#if I think about it it is a good reminder that these are like
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j-crow · 4 hours ago
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damn
This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.
This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.
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sturniolosblanket · 2 days ago
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texts w/ brothers bsf!matt + drabble
pt. 5
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it had been two days since you last talked to matt. you didn’t want to admit the fact that him sleeping with another girl pissed you off. you didn’t want it to mess with you as bad as it did.
with you and matt being apart you realized how much you pained in his absence. how you ached for his touch. you would do anything to hear his voice, his laugh, even his moans and whimpers. you missed everything.
it didn’t take long for nate to notice something was wrong. he wasn’t going to push you, but he didn’t like seeing you like this, so after you came home from class one day he decided to check on you.
“hi.” nate said standing at your door, not moving so he doesn’t strike a nerve.
“uhhh hi?”
“are you um.. like okay?” he leaned against your door frame.
you sat up on your bed and crossed your legs, pulling a pillow to your chest, “i don’t know.”
“you know you can talk to me right?”
“no” you said half joking
“cmon don’t be a smart ass, i’m here for you y/n. you can talk to me about whatever is wrong.” he said tilting his head.
seeing your brother desperate for a reason as to why your acting so off broke your heart. you wanted so badly to tell him, to confess all your actions and sob to him about his horrible friend.
“i..” you start thinking about if you really want to risk matt losing his best friend, and your brother hating you, “i don’t think you wanna hear what’s wrong.”
“what is it a boy?” he asked chuckling
“um yeah actually,” it wasn’t a lie but somehow felt like it.
“oh, well you don’t need a boyfriend anyways.” he said shrugging
“it wasn’t a boyfriend nate,” you said your voice starting to tremble
“you wanted him to be?” he said hesitantly taking a step into your room
you thought about the question for a second. you yourself didn’t know the answer to the question. you knew you had a crush on matt, you had ever since your were little, but a relationship? you had always thought of it more as ‘friends with benefits’ but the more you thought about it, the more you realize how intense your feelings for him were.
“are you like in love or something?” he asked breaking the silence from his previous question.
were you in love with matt?? you didn’t think you were. i mean, he’s a fuckboy and your brothers best friend. sure you guys had amazing sex, you love his dick, the noises he makes, how dominant he is, and how good he was at it. sure he was funny, you loved his corny pick up lines, his stupid jokes, and his laugh. sure he was a good person, you loved how deeply he cares for his brothers, how he would listen to you anytime you were upset, and how well he treated your brother. you loved everything about matt, but you weren’t in love with matt, were you??
“i don’t know” you simply replied to your brother.
“well do you wanna go for a drive?? clear your mind??” nate suggests
“sure. thanks.” you smiled up at him. he just nodded at your turning around to walk out of your room.
“i’ll be in the car.”
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matt’s pov
the truth was, being away from her fucking sucked. i wanted to text, but i didn’t want to push her. i only hooked up with another girl to hide my feelings from myself. having feelings for someone wasn’t normal for me. usually i can fuck someone without catching feelings easily, so when i realized i felt something for y/n, i fucking someone else to get her out of my head.
fucking someone else only managed to make things worse. the whole time all i could think about was her. no one felt like her, sounds like her, tastes like her. she was unique. she was herself, and that was what i liked about her.
the past two days i spent trying to get her out of my mind, but everything reminded me of her. something as simple as her favorite show coming on the tv would fuck with my mood. i tried seeing other girls, but i couldn’t bring myself to even touch anyone else. it all felt to weird, weird it wasn’t her i was touching.
nate had told me that she was acting different. that she wasn’t coming out of her room, and wasn’t really talking to anyone. that broke my heart. she’s hurting because of me. i hurt her. i hated that, but what i hated more was i couldn’t bring myself to apologize.
i was seated one the couch of a party, alone. i wasn’t particularly looking for anyone to hook up with, so when a girl came up and planted herself on my lap i thought about turning her away, but i didn’t. it felt weird, almost like i was cheating even though i knew i wasn’t. knowing how bad she was already hurting made it feel like i was doing something wrong, even though i knew i wasnt. but was i?
“you got a girlfriend or something, baby?” she whispered in my ear
“no”
“then touch me.” she said grinding herself on me.
she leaned down placing a kiss on my lips. she deepened the kiss, grazing her tongue on my bottom lip. she pushed her tongue into my mouth, trying to fight for dominance, but i barley reciprocated so she easily won. the only thing i could think of was wishing it was y/n.
“yo yo yo” i heard a familiar voice say. i pulled away searching for nate. i found him greeting our other friends before he spotted me.
“yo what’s up, matt.” he said dabbing me up.
when i looked behind him i saw her. staring at me, staring at the girl on me. she watched her hands explore my body, snaking up into my hair, falling onto my chest. she leaned in to kiss me again, but i swerved her only being able to focus my attention on y/n.
“are you in love with her or something? i thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?” the girl spoke up staring over at y/n
her question hit me like a truck. i never missed a girl this much in my life, i never felt sad over a girls absence, but for some reason i wanted her to come back to me like crazy.
i tried my best to hide these feelings from myself, but i couldn’t. i loved the way her hair smelt, the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, the way she tenses up under my touch. sure i loved certain things about her, but i wasn’t in love with her. was i?
y/n looked like she had seen a ghost. it was like she snapped out of a trance, and she suddenly booked it for the front door. i pushed the girl off me and ran after her, but by the time i got to the front door, she was no where to be found. she wasn’t outside, in the bathrooms, up stairs, downstairs, gone. fuck
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xoxo, isa
a/n: sorry:,( comment ‘❄️’ to be added to my taglist and i’ll add you!🩵
taglist: @matteatmeout @littlefreak-liz @mattsplaything @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @isasflorals @harls-sturn @h3arts4harry @rcklessheavn @chrissysturnzz @rafesapprentice @mattysketchup @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @emely9274 @trvqvoiisee @heartsforsturniolo567 @rafecameronsbitch @annsx03 @slutmattout @trevorsturniolo @h3arts4nat @beersangel @sturniolosluttt @sturnzpro @slutmattout @rainebow333 @nmegamett20 @ivysturnss
dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws
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last-dropsevi · 3 days ago
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Okay, okay, okay, hear me out.. Sevika but gentle sex. Like r just needs something soft, not necessarily vanilla but I rlly want to see Sevika trying to be gentle cause reader asked her in that tone, with those eyes, she can never resist.
Gentle night// ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。Sevika
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Sevika wasn’t used to losing control, but the way you looked at her—eyes wide and soft, voice trembling with quiet need—it had her chest tightening, her resolve slipping through her fingers like sand. She could handle the chaos of Zaun, the grind of survival, the weight of expectation. But you? You unraveled her with nothing but a touch.
“vika,” you whispered, your hand brushing against hers. Even the lightest contact from you felt electric. “Please, I need something softer tonight.”
A low, raw whimper escaped her before she could stop it. Her breath hitched, her jaw tensing as though she could will herself back into control, but it was no use. That sound—so uncharacteristic of her—hung heavy in the air between you, and she swore she saw your lips twitch in a faint, knowing smile.
“Soft,” she echoed, her voice gravelly, almost uncertain. Her hand slid to your waist, strong and grounding, but with a deliberate restraint that wasn’t easy for her. “I can do that. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you go.”
You nodded, your gaze never leaving hers, and Sevika swore she felt her heart stutter in her chest. There was so much trust in your eyes—trust she didn’t feel like she deserved, but she wasn’t about to let you down. Not when you needed her like this.
Her lips found yours with a surprising gentleness, but there was still an edge of hunger there, like she couldn’t quite help herself. She kissed you like you were something precious, her rough hands pulling you closer as though afraid you might disappear.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” she muttered against your lips, her voice low and heavy with emotion. She kissed her way down your neck, her teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver through you. Her grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of her strength—of how much she was holding back for you.
Her hands moved with purpose, one warm and calloused, the other cool and unyielding, and both possessive in their own way. She tugged you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies, and her lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear.
“You’re mine,” she murmured, her tone firm, almost a growl. “All of you, mine. Don’t forget that.”
Your breath hitched, and Sevika chuckled low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. She pulled back just enough to shed her shirt, the broad expanse of her chest catching the dim light as she reached for the strap-on waiting at the edge of the bed.
Her movements were slow and deliberate as she secured it in place, her gaze never leaving yours. There was something mesmerizing about the way she carried herself���strong, sure, and completely devoted to you in this moment.
“You ready for me?” she asked, her voice softer now, but no less commanding.
“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.
Sevika settled between your legs, her hands gripping your hips with a firm but steady hold. She leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time, pouring everything she couldn’t put into words into that kiss. When she finally pressed into you, her movements were careful, measured, her forehead resting against yours as she let out a low groan.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice cracking slightly as her grip on your waist tightened. “You feel so good, baby. So perfect.”
She moved with a rhythm that was deliberate but unrelenting, her hips rolling with a precision that sent waves of pleasure through you. Every gasp and moan that escaped your lips only spurred her on, her possessive side flaring as she held you close, her body shielding you as though she could protect you from the rest of the world.
“You’re mine,” she growled again, her voice rough but full of reverence. “Every part of you. Don’t ever forget that.”
Her lips found your neck again, leaving marks she knew would linger—a visible claim, one she wanted you to wear proudly. She pressed deeper, her pace quickening slightly, but she never lost that careful edge. She wanted you to feel everything, but she also wanted to take her time, to savor you, to make sure you knew just how much you meant to her.
“Too much?” she murmured, her voice softer now, her lips brushing against your ear.
“No,” you gasped, your hands gripping her shoulders for stability. “Don’t stop.”
She let out a shaky breath, her lips curving into a faint smile against your skin. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Sevika’s hands guided your body, her movements deliberate as she brought you closer and closer to the edge. When you finally came undone beneath her, crying out her name, she didn’t let you go. She held you tightly, her arms wrapping around you as though she could shield you from the world.
“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice softer now, full of pride and affection. “You’re so good for me.”
She stayed there, her body covering yours protectively, her hands tracing gentle patterns along your skin as you caught your breath. And in that moment, as she held you close, Sevika realized that for you, she could be anything—strong, gentle, possessive, soft. Whatever you needed, she would give, because you were hers, and she was yours.
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Masterlist
A/N: sorry if this isn’t long enough. I’m dealing with regents rn so my bad if this came out bad.
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tricoloreddango · 3 days ago
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Thinking of… you struggling to take Mydei’s size. NSFW below, fem reader, not suitable for minors
It was no secret to you, that your prince was very big-in every way possible. This had a ton of advantage, hitting your spots right and filling you up so nicely. It’s just making his not-so-small dick fit that sucked sometimes, and Mydei definitely didn’t want to hurt you.
“It won’t fit!” you sobbed pathetically, both scared it’ll never fit and just hurt, and frustrated you’ll be denied of having him. Tears were running down your face, as you were already so overstimulated from his tip constantly catching against your entrance and him having to stop the last moment of his cock trying to push in, because you were too tight for his girth. His big and tall body above yours, it didn’t feel reassuring to be reminded of his size.
“Hush, I’ll make it fit,” he said roughly. “I promised you that, didn’t I? I’ll make you fit it all.” He leaned in to put a kiss on your forehead, before his finger was rubbing your clit, and his other hand occupied itself with fondling your breast and its nipple. It felt good, and the distraction was working in making you more relaxed. His tip and cock dragged along your slit back and forth, making you cry even harder, this time from the delightful stimulus he was giving you.
Your wetness was growing again, and so you were getting impatient again. Before you even realized it, he was pushing his thick cock into you with ease, and you’ve never felt more relieved, when you threw your head back and cried for him. “See? You’re taking it like a champ, no pain,” he praised, but his voice was strangled, unable to hold back curses and grunts from your tightness. “Trust your man more the next time,” he teased with a cocky smirk, and with a next, hungry kiss on your lips, he was feeding you more of his cock, slowly but inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside of you, making you feel his balls rest against your ass.
Your walls were stretched almost beyond your limits, his tip rested against your cervix, but only then, you were able to rest easily. Mydei was no better in being lustful—the way you squeezed him, trying to milk him for all he had, he didn’t know how much longer he can survive you and your pussy. A warrior he was, you made him weak in his knees, when you enveloped him with your heat.
Withdrawing from your swollen lips, he was finally snapping his hips against yours, his big palms holding onto them with a deadly grip. He was finally giving you what you want, leaving you no more doubt or hesitation to cry about; it was just heavy pleasure with his deep and fast thrusts when you sang moans for him. No way in hell he himself could wait any longer. “All in… no more complains, my love.”
“Now… let me have you properly.”
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mysteryisfallingapart · 1 day ago
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Wow I’m so glad this happened and that the shithead didn’t do like absolutely fucking nothing don’t you guys love the Democratic party aren’t you guys happy they broke the norm just to preemptively stop fascism or at the very least just make things good for a little bit don’t you love our country don’t you love how the Dems’ insistence on preserving institutions and historical norms has had zero effect on the amount of legislative and social progress that we’ve made as a country in the last four years and definitely didn’t lead to the fact that a dictator that wants to ethnically cleanse the nation is about to take office aren’t you guys satisfied with the incredible accomplishments of Joe Biden and the amazing work the Democratic Party has done to help the communities they definitely haven’t been working to marginalize since their inception can’t you guys wait to be disappointed by them again and again for the rest of our fucking lives but still vote for them anyway because maybe they’ll do something for us THIS time and oh fuck they lost ANOTHER FUCKING ELECTION who would’ve thought that trapping the American people in a state of limbo and saying “oh guys we’re gonna do this I promise we’re working around the clock to get this incredibly crucial problem solved” over and over but obviously not doing shit would enable fascists to take the reigns and lead to militarily-forced deportation and mass forced detransition and insanely high economic downturn because nobody bothered to check what a fucking tarriff was but nobody gives a shit anyways because “oh but they unbanned tiktok!!” but the Dems don’t do shit about any of that either because at the end of the day they just want to appeal to different donors and a different voter base than the Republican Party and if you genuinely think the Democratic Party or even the US Govt as a whole gives a flying FUCK about you or your problems you need to do some serious reflection on what they’ve actually done for you. Chances are it’s been close to nothing, and even if there has been something, it certainly hasn’t been nearly enough to make any major positive impact on your life, which, friendly reminder, is being ruined by the shit they put in place to begin with.
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moonastro · 3 days ago
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groom persona chart
north node in the houses
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what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.
the nn in the groom persona chart can symbolise what we will learn from each other from our husband and he from you. its also what fate events are stored in for the couple.
reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.
nn in 1st house: this placement may have some identity issues with their partner and its not like omg he's so much more better than i am no no, this placement can usually question you whether you are doing a good job of being a partner to your husband, always worrying about them, making sure they have the same feelings towards you, constantly may battle your mind into thinking they dont love you as much as you love them, its more of concern or worry rather than anything else. the fate of your relationship with your husband can be tied down to creating an image of yourself through your partner or through their eyes. constantly this placement may encounter fate to do with rumours of their relationship, and being forced to live with others peoples opinions about their marriage or their partner, some may think that you could have done better or vice versa.
nn in 2nd house: the thing that you and your husband can have to go through is learning how to live with each other. it may be strange and there can be some invasion with personal space and getting used to having to share your stuff with them but its what you may have to work through. i feel like you two may have to go through a certain time with struggles with money if this is aspected badly, like there could be a time where you may be unemployed during your relationship with your spouse or vice versa. what i also noticed with this placement is that you and your partner could have to got through some sort of asset situation, depending of the aspects, this can be losing things, being prone to breakages/burglars/ stealing, or just spending money on useless things that done serve you for good.
nn in 3rd house: this placement can go through phases of communication blockages. often misunderstanding each other but it gives great opportunities to work on it and take time to understand one another, their intentions and their motives. the destiny for this placement allows the person to teach one another and especially learn about each other, constantly finding things about each other, however, i did realise some misunderstanding that comes with this placement that can make you think why your partner lets say acts the way he does or vice versa. language barriers are very common with this placement, often having a spouse who speaks another language.
nn in 4th house: this placement offers some time to getting used to each others comfort and energy. this attracts your partner and yourself to accumulate how to comfort each other and make each others safe place which indicates differences in style of living, agreeing on how to decorate your home according to both needs as you may have different styles and way of living. the destiny set for your relationship is creating a family dynamic between each other, having kids or having lots of it can be common for this placement. usually you can have difficulty expressing ones feelings for one another and can have your own way of expressing your love which can be quite indifferent for each of you, can be as simple as approaching this unconventionally, for example love language instead of expressing ones emotion could be making a cup of coffee every single morning, or agreeing to every tantrum they have etc.
nn in 5th house: you can actually learn how to be more carefree and loosen up when in a relationship with your husband. they will teach you how to be more creative, how to take initiative in different ways such as having a different approach to life. destiny set for this couple is definitely having different creative motives, one can be very creative, always creating new things, being active with art, music, developing etc and the other can be the opposite so that may be something this placement can have to work with and go around with.
nn in 6th house: fate with this placement can be rather difficult, you may have to go through different stages of reflection with your partner, always trying to find time for each other, work can be crazy for both of you or for one of you, this placement really needs to slow down with life and focus on each other rather than your own individually. usually the couple can be too busy for each other and with that could cause some trouble with creating a bond as they may even view each other as room mates at times as their lives can literally be like a schedule, wake up, work, home, sleep that kind of thing. usually destiny associated with this can be learning how to live with each others flaws, differences with their home styles, like one can be cleaner than the other or one may always clean and the other hates to clean etc.
nn in 7th house: destiny set for this couple can definitely be learning how to be loyal with one another. there can be some struggle associated with relationship issues such as cheating or being unfaithful for your partner. also having crushes and liking other people while being in a relationship with your partner can also be something that could happen for this placement. creating enemies while in a relationship with your spouse can be common, usually because you and your spouse could be very attractive and others may have crushes on both or one or the other and so this creates some enemies because you chose each other rather than the other people who thought they had a chance with you.
nn in 8th house: north node in the 8th house can bring an extreme intense change of outlook and setting of your life. with your husband, everything can completely change in your life from you comfort to your surroundings. the lesson that you may learn from each other is learning how to share emotions that suit both partners. there can be a missing piece to your bond but your fate with your husband can be to settle down with whatever transformations you may go through, talk through it and create comfort for one another. also, there can be rather extreme moment that happen between you two so it is important to be there for your partner and him for you in these hard moments. you may bond through your hard moments as well and that can create a very close relationship between you two.
nn in 9th house: so for this placement, the couple will eventually learn from each others previous experiences that they had and share them amongst each other and that may mould you or you husband. this placement has full faith in their partner meaning that whatever you may mention to your spouse, he may take it personally and have the same impressions as you. your fate with your husband can be tied to having same opinions and learning how to get over the indifferences in each others views and values. your relationship with your husband can thrive if there is a healthy solution to where you both agree to disagree or find a viewpoint in which you both agree with. there can be some getting used to your in laws as well.
for example-my mother has this placement and she has a difficult relationship with her siblings therefore whatever she says to her partner, he believes her and most of the things she talks about them is negatively and so my father has the same negative outlook on her siblings as well if that makes sense. even though he didn't see it happen or didn't experienced the negative experiences with them, he still hold a grudge towards her siblings even though they did not do those things towards him. its him believing her and her opinions. this also makes sense as the sign its in is in cancer so the emotional, trust, and family topics relates to her opinions and the fate that both share.
nn in 10th house: this placement often has some struggle with career and public image. usually one may view their career as the most serious thing in the world and may put it before their partner. also one partner can act one way at home and completely different when in public and in front of other people which can be something you would have to work on as this can be caused from being scared to be viewed a certain way. being too strict on your spouse, constantly arguing about things, having misaligning attraction towards each other, one may love the other more than the other does to them.
nn in 11th house: this placement has destiny set with their partner to do with social life, usually friends or anyone that either you or your partner hangs out with can cause some issues for the relationship, maybe causing less time to hang out like always being with friends rather than your partner, or going out to a friend or with a friends instead of hanging out with your partner and this can go both ways also. differences in goals, sympathetic reasonings like you may have different approaches to the problems with the world or people who have it way harder than you and your spouse could not care less, this can cause problems.
nn in 12th house: the thing you have to go through with your future spouse is that you'll have to learn how to spiritually connect with your husband. the destiny set for your relationship with your spouse is to finish something from a previous life with them, completing business and thriving in the place you are supposed to be with your partner. also being able to combat and talk through addictive substances for either you or your spouse as one of you may have an addiction to smoking, drinking, vaping whatever it maty be. it may be an issue as this can mean that you may not like it how your spouse does it or vice versa. another thing with this placement is that you'll have to get though unrealistic expectations of your spouse, you may think or idolise your spouse to a point where you can be disappointed so that could be an issue also.
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erwinsvow · 2 days ago
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you'd never really put this much effort in at other houses. while you're scrubbing the countertops to remove every last bit of evidence that someone—anyone—had made a mess there, you think about the other houses you used to babysit for.
used to, since there was no need to babysit anymore. mister cameron, who will always remain mister cameron—no matter how much he reminds you to call him rafe—actually pays you double what your other families did. he's a busy guy. you know this for a fact—single dad and some big business guy that people in town used to talk about all the time when you used to listen—so he'd have last minute emergencies and random business calls all the time.
his exact words had been something along the lines of "don't wanna share you with anyone else," but even thinking about that encounter makes your face burn with so much intensity that you think you're going to collapse. that's not what he meant, obviously, he was trying to tell you in nicer words that it was annoying when you replied to his texts explaining how another family had booked you already for that night. so when he upped your rate and said that he'd even pay to say no to others, just in case, you would have been really stupid to say no.
you don't hear much about him anymore, when you're out and about. you spend so much time at the cameron house that your own little apartment seems like nothing more than a bed and a place to get ready before leaving. you practically eat three meals a day with the baby, so even your grocery shopping is in that part of town—all organic, expensive places where you talk to the baby and try to get her opinion on which vegetable puree she'd like to try this week.
it's kind of like playing pretend. no, it's really like playing pretend. you used to dress in the normal, comfortable clothes that were sufficient for babysitting every other family—overalls and sneakers—but now you don't fit in unless you're in a pretty dress and nice sandals. you stay in one outfit from when you show up before mister cameron leaves to when you drive home at the end of the night.
that's the other thing—your car. you've made it work with the same one since you could first drive. it's a little rusty, a little dinged up, but safe as can be. it's nothing fancy but it got you around. but now you do other things for rafe that you never did for other families—grocery shopping and errands and the occasional doctor's appointment if rafe really, really can't make it. you don't mind at all—it's fun to play pretend and you love her like she's your own, but mister cameron tries to make it to every appointment himself, because he really cares about his daughter. it's admirable because you don't see it in every single household.
you hadn't thought there was anything wrong with your car until one day you couldn't get the air conditioning to work, and the back window got jammed and the baby looked so uncomfortable that you had to skip out on whatever you were supposed to do that day. when mister cameron came home that night you apologized so much that you started crying—because really, you never thought there was something wrong with your car and you didn't want to make the baby drive in the heat, just in case. you think he'll be mad, there's no groceries and his suit is still at the cleaner's, and the lotion that you use every night after bathtime has ran out and there'll be none for tomorrow—but he's not.
he's not mad at all. he seems... tired. he seems worried. the first thing he asks that night is if you and the baby are okay. when you nod, afraid that this is the calm before the storm, he sighs.
"good. that's all i care about," and the way he says it—you believe him right away. maybe that's the night your little crush on mister cameron started forming. it'd always been there in the background, you'd be an idiot of massive proportions to deny it. but it felt different somehow, watching him roll up his sleeves and pulling out whatever ingredients there were left over to make dinner with, something that you normally tried to have done every night for him, while telling you to take a seat.
that night he asks about your car—how old is it, when'd you get it, how many miles. do you like the model? would you want bigger, smaller, a different color? it's just conversation—he probably likes cars with the way there's a really nice in the garage under a sheet and a nice but safer one that he takes to work everyday.
(while he's cooking pasta and cutting vegetables, you try to get up and help, but he meets your eyes and shakes his head. wordlessly, you obey and sit back down.)
that's the first night things felt different. you drove home a little giddy, later than normal, stomach full and heart a little too happy that you found it in yourself to finally have a real, nice conversation with mister cameron. you're as shy as they come but your interactions with him are limited—before work, a phone call at lunch (though recently, his first question hasn't been about the baby... it's been how are my girls?), and after work before you leave.
it feels good to know that you're doing something right, that you're good at this even on your bad days. you make a point to leave your place extra early that week, stopping at the pharmacy and picking up the lotion so it's one less thing to worry about. your window still won't roll down and you'll have to figure out how to get the groceries delivered, crossing your fingers that it doesn't cost that much more.
you show up a couple minutes early and go inside to sort out the stuff for the baby before she wakes, when you find mister cameron in the nursery.
"good morning," you say quietly, though it comes out a little above a whisper. she's still sleeping, even though you haven't glanced in the crib, you know her schedule like the back of your hand.
"hey, kid," he says, and your heart starts to thud a little faster. mister cameron's nicknames for you don't make an appearance everyday but for some reason, it has today. he hovers over the crib, watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath. you go over to join him, placing the lotion on the dresser. he notices the bottle and turns back to you. "you didn't have to do that."
"she needs it," you reply quietly. "it's the only one she likes. and i was up early anyways."
"thank you." it comes out with such sincerity that you're a little taken aback.
"of course, mister cameron. it's nothing," you smile up at him. he glances back at you, smiling and then turning to his daughter again. "i'm gonna go start on her breakfast."
you make your way to the door when he says your name.
"there's keys on the kitchen counter, and the car's in the garage. i'd like it if you started using that car instead."
and really—how are you supposed to respond to that? you stammer out an 'of course, mister cameron' and go downstairs, crossing your fingers that he made a mistake, or that he wants you to drive his car until you fix yours and he'll take the nice one tucked away in the garage.
but when you make it to the counter, and then head to the garage, your eyes nearly fall out of your head. a brand new pair of car keys, to match the brand new car in the garage. your arguments fall on deaf ears—this is way too much for anyone. yes, you're pretty much throwing money away by still paying rent and the cost of getting your car fixed could probably be enough to start paying for a better one, but this is too much. way too much. it's not normal. right?
but you have no one to ask. the baby's not old enough for playdates, and the girls who replaced you at your old houses are pretty much all high school seniors. on mister cameron's side of town, there's only nannies and au pairs, and they'd probably think you're crazy for turning down such a nice gesture.
and it is a nice gesture. mister cameron listens to every word you say, even when you're not paying attention to your own sentence. the car is exactly how you described—the color you wanted, the size you said would be nice one day incase there's ever a playdate or another baby or whatever the case may be. it's shiny and brand-new and completely undeserving of you. but he doesn't listen.
somewhere along the next month, you realize you could get really used to this. mister cameron does have a point—you're taking care of his daughter every day, so it only makes sense to make sure she's as safe as can be. you make a mental note that if you ever—for whatever idiotic reason—choose to leave this perfect job, you'll make sure he gets the car back.
there comes a point where the relationship... makes its way to the next level. at the end of every week, you have to settle the bills. co-pays at appointments, grocery receipts, the invoice from the gardener that didn't go through so you had given him your own cash so mister cameron wouldn't have to deal with it from work. it adds up, so once the baby is asleep on saturday night, the two of you eat dinner and go through everything.
but this time, he hands you a card instead. a shiny black credit card that spells out his name on the back.
"makes it a bit easier, right? just use this instead. we won't have to settle every week anymore."
"right," you agree, your smile fading quickly. you try to put on a front, a false expression so he doesn't notice your disappointment. saturday nights with mister cameron—him with his beer and you with a glass of wine—once the baby is asleep, sorting out bills and making conversation that almost felt like you belonged here, had unknowingly become your favorite part of the week. sometimes it would go until midnight, talking about things that were neither here nor there.
it's how you learned why he's a single dad, what he does for work, how he feels about his job and how much time it takes away from his daughter. it's why you started sending him photo and video updates everyday so he wouldn't feel like he's missing out on as much, it's why you make sure to craft the baby's bedtime routine around him coming home, so they have their time together.
"somethin' wrong?" he asks, after taking another sip of beer. you're snapped out of your thoughts, focusing instead of how rafe looks today. tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, fingers curled around the beer bottle.
you don't know how any woman on earth could have walked away from this.
"n-nothing. no. thank you, mister cameron, this is great. i'll make sure-"
"it's rafe from now on—remember, kid?"
"yes. sorry, i-"
you couldn't get out of there fast enough that night. it's almost a subtle reminder from the universe—you're not part of that family. you're the nanny who got too attached, who pretended that she fit in too much to a family that's not hers.
you still wear your nicer clothes, you still drive around his nice car. but you try to remind yourself every now and then that this isn't your real life.
the next day, it's like the universe has decided that it's mad at you for coming to this conclusion.
pouring rain the second you get into the car. your raincoat and umbrella and a sensible pair of shoes remain inside your apartment, and if you sit in idle any longer, you're going to be late to mister cameron's. he'll want to leave early since it's raining, so he's probably expecting you any minute.
the roads are a mess—it's monsooning for no reason and people forget how to drive. you honk no less than three times at idiots on the road before getting scared that someone will road-rage you. when you pull into the garage—because yes, mister cameron insists that you park inside and that he can park outside— you're frazzled and sweating and your day hasn't even started yet.
rafe's almost ready to leave, which is another damper on an already bad morning—if he has time, the two of you eat breakfast together. you tell him to drive safe and apologize for being late when he rushes past you, leaning in to kiss your cheek and telling you that he might he home late today, and to have a good day. you don't realize what's happened until he's gone, the door closing behind him.
you stand in the foyer with your mouth open until you hear the baby monitor. from that point on—it's one thing after another. the baby is fussy today, which is the most unusual part of the day. she's never like this, and you conclude that she must be getting sick or something. it's just as well, because there's no reason to go out or to take her out in this weather. she cries, and you try to help, even cave and put on some episodes of little bear to see if something would distract her. but the poor thing just doesn't feel good, and has no way to tell you how.
the hours fly by, and your head even hurts a little from the crying and the overthinking about the kiss from this morning. in all the rush, you eat about two bites of lunch before the baby needs something else.
and then at the end of the day, right around when rafe should be coming home, he doesn't.
you feed the baby and rock her to sleep. she fusses ten minutes later, and spits up all over you and your hair, and then knocks out. you even spend twenty minutes hovering over the monitor, making sure she's okay while drying your hair. rafe's still not home, so you get dinner ready and warmed for him, eating yours alone in the silence. and as if you could handle another thing, you spill sauce all over your dress while trying to put away the leftovers.
you were going to wait until you were back home, safe in your tiny apartment to cry and shower and scrub your skin raw from the day you've had, but it can't wait any longer. you take the monitor into the bathroom with you at full volume, and decide to shower in the bathroom closest to the baby's room just to be safe.
it's not until you're naked, wrapped in a soft towel and waiting for the water to get scalding hot, racking your brain for the location of the extra clothes you had once brought here that you realize the shower closest to the baby's room is the shower in rafe's bedroom.
you haven't been in here before—looking around at the expensive cologne on the counter and the dark blue towels and the hamper full of yesterday's dress shirt. it's not a good idea to be in here, but you need to shower and you can't wait another minute. for all you know, mister cameron could come home in another two hours. your dress is spinning in the washer—and your plan is set. throw it in the dryer, find something to wear for the next fifty minutes, and leave as soon as he's home even though you can hear the raindrops on the roof and the thunder outside.
the shower is what you have been needing all day. you wish you had your body wash and shampoo, but his aren't too bad. you inhale deeply, realizing you're submerging yourself in his scent. you could stay in there forever, but you don't—he's gonna be home any minute or the baby could start crying, and you need to go home.
but he smells so good. you've noticed it before, it just feels amplified now. the towel you wrap yourself in is his, meaning he's dried himself with it before. all the clothes smell like his cologne, and the house is a little cold and your clothes are still washing, and though it's probably the worst idea you've ever had, when you get out of the shower, you head to his dresser and pull out the first clean t-shirt you can find.
it's big on you, you knew it would be. it's soft and warm and smells undeniably like mister cameron. you're completely clueless, exhausted because the baby barely napped and you barely got any sleep yourself, and it's way past your own bedtime right now. he might not even come home, you think, with how the storm sounds. you check your phone but there's no messages, just a flood warning.
yesterday's socks and underwear are still spinning in the machine—how long does this thing take? what setting had you put it on?—and you begrudgingly leave rafe's warm bedroom with the baby monitor in one hand, and his navy blue towel in the other, drying your hair. you turn on the television, watching whatever's on while you pat your strands dry, bending over to wrap your hair into the towel so you can sit for a couple minutes, when you hear the door open.
you snap back up, looking at rafe's face stare back at you—he's drenched, hair wet and suit dripping, wiping his forehead with his hand when he looks you up and down. oh god, you don't even know what he just saw, you were bent over and-
"is that my shirt?"
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pixiemage · 3 days ago
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I made some amazing friends this past year year, ones I met in passing at a convention in 2023 and finally starting actively talking to on Minecraft in 2024. I became close enough with one of them to finally move out of my parents’ place and find a townhouse with her. Best roommate ever.
I went to a Billy Joel concert in New York because my brother lives there (musical theatre major) and my dad was willing to overspend on tickets to make a great family memory.
We hosted a Friendsgiving at my place (my own place!!!) and I expanded my minimal cooking knowledge to host them. I felt so proud when the things I made came out right! (Thank you to my roommate for helping to teach me, she’s a rockstar.)
I met an internet friend IRL for the first time.
I started listening to an amazing podcast that’s like having a book club for one of my favorite book series. I’ve loved every second of enjoying the story all over again and analyzing each chapter one by one to find things I missed the first time I read it.
I got a KitchenAid stand mixer for a good price on Facebook Marketplace. It may seem silly, but it felt like a massive step forward in independence when I didn’t have to use my mom’s mixer for our annual cookie party. (Plus it’s a sexy red one and I love her dearly. I should name her I think…)
I watched new movies. I watched new shows. I went to see Wicked in theaters with someone who had never seen the stage musical, and was delighted by the fact that I COULDN’T ramble about it to her because she got so into it that she’s now avoiding spoilers until Part 2 comes out. My roommate and I have been introducing each other to our favorite shows - Fairy Tail and RWBY - and most nights involve us swapping back and forth between one or the other when we sit down for dinner.
(We’re going to finish RWBY first, and she’ll get to pick another of her list to introduce me to. It’s my favorite new tradition in the house.)
I got a new bathrobe. I got new slippers. I got a really cool sweatshirt I need to stop wearing so I don’t wear it out too fast.
I went to a Marianna’s Trench concert.
I drove to Canada, and while I’ve been there before, I crossed the border from the driver’s seat for the first time.
I spent a weekend making a silly Minecraft audition tape with friends that went horribly wrong, but I still had fun making it.
I went to conventions (one in Arizona, one in my home state) and created new cosplays. I got really into character and had a blast when the friends who matched my cosplays roleplayed right back.
I learned how to make a family recipe.
I had good days. I smiled. I laughed over stupid memes. I kicked my feet over really good fanfiction and danced around my room when I found out some of my long-distance friends wanted to visit in January of 2025. (Which they did, and I miss them already.) I laughed with friends - family - my roommate - so hard at times that my lungs hurt and my ribs ached. Little things, little moments. Reminders that it’s all worth it, even during the days when I don’t want to get out of bed.
(And my dog is currently sleeping on my feet at my parents’ place where I’m writing this from. She’s warm and happy and I stopped in the middle of writing this to watch her dream. Little things.)
hey honest question, did anybody have GOOD stuff happen to them in 2024? cause it was really bad for me and for most people i know, so it would be nice to hear about anything that's been going WELL for any of you. even if it's small stuff. just to know there's light out there.
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aurorawritestoescape · 20 hours ago
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ALL THE GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL
Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,7k
part 3 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone
Summary: you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, reader’s pov, still technically dub con but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, both holes pronouns, cock pronouns, corruption, object insertion, fingering, creampie, degradation, anal, praise kink, daddy kink, pussy spanking, cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.
A/n: huge thank you to my love @milla-frenchy for this inspiring ask, for beta-ing and for the title. ILYSM❤️ also thank you to everyone who enjoys this naughty series, I’m grateful for your love, your asks and your thots! I hope you’ll enjoy this part❤️‍🔥 dividers by @/saradika-graphics
SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST
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”Joel, wake up.”
Joel opened his eyes, startled by a figure standing next to the bed in the darkness of the bedroom. He cursed under his breath when he realized it was just you.
“Hmm?” all he could muster to say, groggy with sleep.
“Can you — can we talk?” you whispered and beckoned him with a hand.
Joel was blinking at you for a few seconds and then his eyes slid over your barely clothed figure. Even in his half awake state he realized that it wasn’t normal - you, standing in his and his wife’s bedroom in your tiny pajamas like a slutty ghost, your voice shaky with nerves.
Joel got up, moving carefully so as not to wake up his sleeping wife. As he was following you downstairs a scary thought passed through his mind - what if your guilt brought you to him in the middle of the night? Did you feel bad for sleeping with your mother’s husband and decided to break their thing off? No! He’d just found a perfect fuck toy in his own backyard and he wasn’t going to let you slip out of his paws. So he decided to intimidate you and remind you that he had you by the pussy.
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You
You thought that Joel was hot the moment your mother introduced you to him but when you started living under the same roof, his rough nature, gruff voice, piercing eyes and broad frame became your obsession. You wanted him to be with you, not with your mom. It was so filthy and naughty to think like that about your stepdad and your heart skipped a beat every time he was staring at you. You were scared that somehow he had read your mind and realized that his stepdaughter was a cock-craving freak. Needy and desperate for him.
You would have never confessed your feelings but somehow you got what you wanted anyway.
Yet your thirst wasn’t satisfied, instead it grew and grew until it took over your mind and body. You couldn't sleep any more - your nights were spent tossing and turning, sweating against the clingy sheets and thinking of Joel. Remembering his hands greedily exploring your body, his lips, too mean to give you a long kiss, but hot enough to brand you as his, his cock so deep inside you, it was hard to take a breath.
Tonight was especially hard. He hadn’t fucked you in three days - you were busy with the college, he worked late and your mom always seemed to be around. You were dying to get filled by his him, to feel his body pressed to yours. But most of all you craved to be degraded by him. Whenever you saw each other, he was cold, indifferent, looking through you and it was understandable - he had to keep your sick relationship a secret, especially in front of your mom, but it elevated your need even more. You wanted him to be mean, to call you a slut, to manhandle you, to give you anything to satisfy your twisted thirst for his attention.
All you had was your pink dildo; after Joel prohibited you from getting some on the side, the toy was your only respite. The one that still had Joel’s fingerprints on the shaft. No way you’d wash him away. You were so desperate you slept with it like with a damn teddy bear, it was always in your hands when you were alone in your bedroom, feeling empty without your stepdad’s cock plugging you, cold without his arms around your body.
You’d been fucking yourself sensless every night but all in vain. Your body and mind demanded him, your attraction turned into a fixation. You must have gone completely crazy with ‘the horny’ but on the fourth day in the middle of the night, surprisingly even for yourself, your feet carried you to his bedroom.
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Joel
You led Joel to the kitchen and when you both entered, you turned on a little light over the cooker and stood a few steps away from him. Joel shivered, feeling chilly only in his boxers and a white tank top, and grumbled with an intention to intimidate you,
“What’s up?”
You looked anxious as hell, shifting on your bare feet, chest heaving under your cute pajama top, restless hands fidgeting with the lace on your shorts. You looked so small and vulnerable in front of him, that Joel’s cock twitched.
“I— Joel — sorry for waking you up but — I can’t sleep.”
Your stepdad furrowed his bushy brows.
”Want me to sing you a lullaby or some shit? How the hell is it my problem?“
He glanced at the clock and then glared at you, his hands on his hips.
“I have to get up in 3 hours.”
Avoiding his stare, your eyes slid down his broad torso and landed on his bulge. He followed her line of sight and smirked at his hard cock creating a glorious tent in his boxers.
“What a little slut. ‘s called morning wood. Don’t be flattered, jus’ nature.”
You quickly looked away, but he didn’t miss the way you bit your soft lower lip and pressed your thighs together.
“Wait...” His breath hitched. With his eyes narrowed he took a step towards you.
Could it be…? No way! Did you wake him up because you were horny?
Suddenly Joel was 100% awake.
You shifted back and pressed your body to the counter, looking embarrassed. And there was something else in the way you moved. Need.
‘Fuck. Me.’ Joel thought, staring at you, as a mixture of triumph and relief expanded his chest.
The bitch didn’t want to break up with him, she wanted him to break her back. A wolfish grin twisted his face as he cooed, inching closer,
“Aww, someone needs daddy’s milk to sleep better?”
He grabbed himself by the heavy balls and gave them a shake, stepping up closer to you. “Have it all right here for ya.”
Now there were mere inches between you and him. You looked so delicious - your eyes downcast, your body almost trembling out of your clothes, fast breaths making your chest flutter.
“My cock-hungry girl,” he whispered.
You shook your head, still not daring to look at him, but stayed silent. Yes, it must be hard for you to deny the obvious — you were madly horny for your stepdad.
Joel tilted his head and his smile faded. He shifted his jaw, suddenly serious and concentrated. There were so many ways he could ruin you tonight and he had just a few hours. Why did he always have so little time with you?
“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispered in your ear and bucked his hips against your lower belly, making you gasp. “Your pussy keeps you up at night?” —his hands slowly pulled down your shorts— “She wants my meaty cock?”— he lightly slapped your folds and you moaned his name — “Poor thing.”— He massaged your wet pussy —“Hungry cunt, always drenched.”— Slap!
“Ahh!” you cried out. Slap—slap—slap!
“Joelllll….”
Your hands grasped his strong biceps, nails hurting him like a little kitten would, while he was spanking your damp folds with his paddle of a hand.
“A few days without daddy’s dick and you run to him —,” Joel pushed his index and middle fingers between your folds —”in the middle of the night…riskin to wake up your mother.”
Joel shoved his thick fingers inside you and started fucking you slowly and steadily. Soon you were whimpering and shaking, eyes shut, lips parted, almost drooling.
“What if you woke her up, huh? What’d you say? ‘I need daddy to fuck me to sleep?’”
“Nooo, Joel—“, all you could do was to moan.
“You know what I like to be called.”
“Daddy -ohh, daddy…”
You spread your legs wider, watching his hand work your pussy until Joel spat,
“Eyes on me.”
You followed his command and he almost came in his boxers.
“Look at you, dirty slut, you love it. Love bein finger-fucked by your stepdad.”
Your beautiful face was twisted with pleasure he was giving you and he pressed his lips to yours and licked possessively into your mouth.
Joel was rubbing his clothed hard-on against your side, working himself up, and then pushed your clit with his thumb and started rubbing it up and down in rhythm with his fingers, that were knuckles deep inside you. You mewled into his mouth and soon your pussy began clamping on his digits hard and fast.
Joel parted from your lips and watched you closely, reveling in the way your body was succumbing to his dirty actions. He still couldn’t believe that he got to do that to his hot stepdaughter. Corrupting you felt so damn good.
When you fell into his arms, exhausted from the hard climax, he lifted you and helped you to wrap your weak legs around his waist.
“Daddy’s turn, sweetie,” he huffed, carrying you to the door, and after checking that the coast was clear, stepped into the hall.
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“Lie down,” Joel ordered, locking the laundry room door behind you two and turning on the dim lights. There wasn’t much space but it was enough for him to have some fun with you.
“Right here? On the floor?”
“Damn! Ain’t ya a fucking princess,” he grumbled. “‘k, I guess my knees could use a little padding too.”
He grabbed a basket with dirty laundry and unceremoniously dropped its contents on the floor. Then he scattered the clothes with his bare foot and motioned for you to get comfortable.
You looked at the messy makeshift bed with a pout and then at Joel but his dark eyes told you to do what he’d said and soon you were lying on your back in front of him.
“Good girl,” he sneered, palming himself at the sight of you. Then he kneeled down with a grunt, settled between your legs after spreading them wide with his bear paws.
“Oops, daddy ruined your shorts, babydoll.“ A dark spot between your legs made him salivate and he quickly slid your bottoms off.
The view of your naked cunt, wet and pretty, was the last drop. His desire skyrocketed and took control over him completely. He didn’t care about anything else at that moment, he wanted to grab, thrust, squeeze, bite, eat you whole. He’d never felt anything like that before, the animalistic need to claim your every inch.
“Top up. Show me the girls.”
You exposed your breasts and he ogled your body for a few moments.
“Fucking ‘ell. I hate you. You can’t be this fuckin hot.”
Your little smile was cute but soon your lips parted and you gasped when he leaned down and pushed his nose right between your folds. He took a deep breath and growled, sending vibrations through your tense body. You jerked with overstimulation but Joel didn’t care. Keeping your thighs apart with his palms, he was busy sliding his nose like a credit card up and down your cunt, coating his face with your juices, collecting some with his plush bottom lip and tasting you greedily.
It didn’t take long for your thighs to tremble and when Joel sucked in your clit between his lips with a loud slurp, you came again. Joel drank everything your pulsating cunt had to offer, then sat back admiring the way your pussy clamped around nothing.
”Fuck. This cunt. Wish I could put you in my pocket and carry you around. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t it be nice?”
Your eyes were closed, chest heaving, and Joel lightly slapped your mound to get your attention.
“Ouch… Yeah, yes, daddy.”
Joel’s cock was rock hard, his boxers soaked with prefuck juice, but he wanted to keep playing with his stepdaughter as long as he could.
“Ya know I still have your panties. They were handy when you were studyin. Jizzed all over them. Now they’re ruined.”
He glanced at the stacks of clothes on the dryer and picked up one piece.
“These yours, right?”
You nodded slowly blinking at the pink lacy thong in his hand. He pressed it to his nose and mumbled with disgust,
“Clean.”
Suddenly his face lit up.
“Let’s make a souvenir for daddy, uh?”
“What?”
Joel answered your question when he brought the thong between your thighs and began wiping your pussy with it, soaking the fabric with your cum.
“Here we go, now they gonna smell of your tasty snatch.”
You were mewling, jerking again and again when he’d graze your puffy clit with his hand, but your legs stayed open for him. At one point Joel slid the panties over your entrance, that was stretched by his fingers, and without any thought in his mind he began pushing the thong into your glistening hole.
“What are you doing?!” You gasped, lifting yourself up on your elbows, your eyes wide.
“To soak ‘em better,” he mumbled, inserting the panties into your soft hole with his thick fingers. “Nice ‘d wet.”
He tilted his head, admiring the view of your cunt sucking the lace in, fluttering around the fabric, while you both were panting, aroused to the max at the sight.
When his hand was working, Joel’s eyes would fall on your asshole, winking at him from time to time.
It was calling to him - ‘Fuck me, Joel. Stick your fat cock right here.’
Joel stopped stuffing you with your thong only when the side string was sticking out of your hungry pussy.
He took a deep breath and looked up at your face.
“I’ll let it sit for a bit, ‘k? Ya pussy full now so… I’ma fuck your ass, baby.”
You
Joel looked crazy— eyes blown out, curly hair disheveled, mouth parted, lips and chin wet with your slick, so when he announced that he was going to fuck your ass, all your holes clenched extremely hard. You’d never done anal before but you could imagine that taking such a huge cock would split your ass in two. And you loved your ass. You didn’t want to go to the ER in the middle of the night.
‘Help me, doctor. I ...I fell on my stepdad's cock.’
Yet Joel was too hot to say ‘no’ to. His broad chest, stretching his tank top with every mighty breath, his monstrous bulge between the thick thighs, his handsome face, his muscular arms, his veiny hands…you could come just from staring at him. And the best part was that he wanted you. So much that it made your head spin and your knees buckle.
He probably noticed your scared expression, you weren’t really hiding it, and gave you a faux sweet smile. Then he cooed at you with the weirdest tone of voice — sugary and calming, that was so not like him, it made you even more anxious.
“I’ll be careful, sweetie.”
Suddenly he got up and went to the door.
“Joel?” you called but he pressed a finger to his lips, opened the lock and went out.
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Joel came back a minute later holding something in his fist. He took his place between your legs, your pussy still full with your panties, and you saw a little bottle in his hands.
“Got us some lube, sweetie. Bought it the next day we fucked. For your ass. And we both know your pussy can drown the whole neighbourhood.”
A pathetic ‘aww’ almost escaped your mouth. You were down bad for him but you couldn’t show that you took ‘buying lube to ruin your butt’ as a sign of affection.
Meanwhile Joel was already opening the bottle and pulling his hard cock out. You almost moaned when you saw it. He was throbbing, his veiny thick member looked engorged and ready to destroy you. Your asshole clenched and pussy squeezed the wet thong.
”Daddy, fuck my mouth instead. Please.”
Joel, who was already pouring the slick liquid on his palm, shook his head.
“Nah, babydoll. Been there, done that. You woke me up so now face the consequences. Or rather let the consequences fuck your ass,” he chuckled and you whined, slowly closing your legs. Your inner thighs clamped against his hips and Joel froze, his eyes boring a hole in you. He clenched his jaw and his expression turned dark. A cold shiver ran down your spine. ‘He’s gonna make me,’ you thought in panic, ‘he’s gonna make me do it.’
Joel
‘Fuck! Joel thought. The bitch was about to say ‘no’. She woke him up, made him hard, made his cock leak like a fucking fountain into his boxers and now she was gonna leave him high and dry. Two orgasms spoiled her. Why the hell was he always so generous to this ungrateful brat?’
Yeah, your pussy was bomb. Yeah, you let him stick a dildo and his cock inside you, ate his cum like crème brûlée and at that moment were lying in front of him with your panties sticking out of your hole. You were a perfect slut. And yeah, your fear was valid - his schlong was huge and intimidating. But Joel knew that your ass would be heaven-like so he had to do a little ground work. Anal was worth it. You were worth it.
Joel sighed and glided his hand over your thigh.
“Ya scared?”
You nodded with your eyes glossy, lips trembling.
He sensed that you needed some sugar. So he could get your sweet ass.
“I get it,“ Joel sat on his butt and offered you his hand. You took it, looking confused, and he gently pulled you up and manhandled you to sit on his lap, your knees pressed to the floor. Your stuffed pussy snuggled up to his hard cock and Joel clenched his teeth and gathered all his will not to stick it in any hole that would be close enough. He needed to fuck something soon or he’d explode.
“It’s ok. I won’t make you do it. I'm big.”
”Yeah, so big, daddy,” you mewled, nuzzling the crease of his neck. His hands were gliding over your juicy asscheeks, soothing your nerves but also intentionally turning you on. You whimpered and he smiled in his mind. The slut was getting needy. Already feeling the tight squeeze of victory around his dick, he cooed,
”But listen… I know how to make it easy, sweetie. Know how to make it feel good for us both. You’ll feel so fuckin good, I promise.”
“Mmm,” you hummed against his skin, the sound unsure. Joel wrapped his arms tight around you and pulled you closer to his torso. Your thighs spread wider around his hips, your back arched and your butt stuck out more. Perfect.
“I also know that —,” his hand shifted to the crease of your ass and you jerked in his arms when his lubed up finger caressed your asshole, ”— she wants me too.”
Joel glided the pad of his finger over your tight ring, teasing it, spreading the lube over your puckered hole while you were moaning softly, probably fighting the urge to beg for more. But you will. Bet your cock-fearing ass you will!
“All your holes were made for me, babydoll. And this one too,” — his middle finger gently pushed on the ring — “I’ll work her open, carefully, sweetie, don’t worry, and in no time she’ll be able to take me.“ Pouring sweet honey into your ears, he inserted the tip of his digit in and your body tensed.
“Shh, relax, baby, relax. Gimme those sweet lips.”
Joel knew that you loved kissing him, always melting in his arms when his tongue was fucking into your mouth. So he gave you what you wanted - a long and passionate kiss while working your tight asshole open slowly but steadily, relaxing your muscle, making room for his fat cock.
When Joel was deep inside you to the knuckle, he moved his finger in and out a few times until you broke the kiss. You parted from his lips and searched for his eyes, almost frozen in his embrace.
“Oh, fuck, you’re inside me, Joel… daddy… I..”, you were choking on your words, your voice breathy, and he gave you a saccharine smile.
“Yes, tell me, sweetie, what do you need?”
“I need … need your cock there. Please.”
That was almost too easy but after playing with you for so long, Joel’s jizz wanted out and he was happy that your cock hunger took over your fears.
“ ‘course, babydoll. Get back down.”
He wanted to see you take him in your little ass lying on your back, wanted to see your pussy chew on your panties when his cock would neglect her and instead fuck another hole.
You were trembling, probably still scared but your eyes were screaming for a good fill.
“Hngg, like that. Hold your knees—yeah, good girl.”
“Please, be careful, Joel,” you asked with a timid voice.
Joel didn’t reply, busy applying more lube on his cock and groaning at the sensation.
“Daddy, please, be gentle.”
“I will, I will.”
Joel was hovering over your torso, his cock finally at your asshole, his wet hand guiding it. His head was empty, occupied only by you. All his being was taken over by the instinct to pierce his stepdaughter with his cock. But at the back of his mind a tiny voice reminded him that he needed to be careful with his favorite toy so he could play with it as long as possible.
Wanting you so badly that his balls were buzzing, Joel bit his lip hard to stop himself from busting just from the sensation of his cold cock-head pressed to your warm skin.
“More lube.” Yeah, he needed more.
Only when his schlong was slippery enough to fuck a whole cheerleading team, he stopped lubing it up. Your ass was worth it and he really needed you to enjoy it.
Joel pushed the tip against your hole but you weren’t letting him in.
“Babydoll, relax. Breathe deeper.”
You nodded but your chest was heaving, panic swimming in your eyes. You needed him close so Joel leaned down and covered you with his body, not putting his weight on you, just sharing his warmth.
Your eyes were inches from his, nervous, glossy, turned on.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, fuck being sorry. Just relax. Enjoy it.”
Enjoy my cock in your ass.
His tip knocked at the heaven’s door again and you finally granted him the access.
“Yeah, oh yeahhhh, baby, ahhhh—“
Joel didn’t care that he sounded needy and ecstatic, that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment. His tip was inside your glorious ass, your warm ring squeezing him hard, and to stop himself from coming, Joel closed his eyes and imagined his wife. He’d been imagining you whenever he was fucking her for some time now and he could have chuckled at the irony but at that moment only grunts and moans were leaving his mouth.
Your nails were digging into his biceps, widened eyes darting between his, your lips parted in a silent moan until you whimpered loudly, too loudly for a quiet house.
“Ahhdaddydaddydaddyyyy!”
He shut you up with a kiss and rocked his hips forward, slowly nailing your ass with his stiff cock.
If anyone had stopped him at that moment, he’d cry, that’s how amazing he was feeling. He’d fucked a fair amount of asses in his life but yours was definitely in top three.
“Need to see her take me,” be mumbled feverishly as his lips left yours and you whined.
“Quiet, needy slut. I’m still here.”
Joel was careful as he sat up and lifted your hips, wishing to stay in your tight hole and also not to rip you in two. When he dropped his head, his hands on your juicy asscheeks spreading them wider, the sight made him curse,
“Fuck— you seein it?”
He was mesmerized, watching your tight ring flutter around his glistening shaft while your stuffed pussy was squeezing the drenched panties. Your thighs began trembling when he fumbled with the wet fabric sticking out of your hole.
“Shit, baby. You’re somethin else.”
Joel slowly moved his cock, in and out, dipping it further with every forward thrust. You were watching him ruin your butt, breathing fast, and then murmured, choking on air,
”Oh my god—I feel like I’m gonna explode— don’t go deeper— please.”
Joel really wanted to push further, wanted to feel your tight ring hug the base of his cock but he was already on the verge of ecstasy, ready to empty his heavy balls. He was a glass-half-full person so half of his cock in his hot stepdaughter’s ass was enough for him. Yet wishing to keep you on your toes, he growled, “Don’t tell me what to do,” and slapped your pussy. The hit was light but his hand grazed your puffy clit and it electrified you like a bolt of lightning. You cried out through your teeth, your body tensed up and you squeezed him hard.
“Hnnnggg, yeah, choke ‘im, c’mon,” Joel grunted at the feeling and slapped your folds and clit again.
Slap- slap- slap!
“Daddyyyyy,” you moaned as you came, shaking in his arms, both of your holes contracting fast.
A string of curses left Joel’s mouth as he was watching your soft pussy nibble on your thong, making it dance over his cock.
“She’s droolin even gagged, fuckin ‘ell.”
While the orgasm was still rippling through you, he pinched the string of your panties with his thick fingers and began slowly pulling them out. It seemed to be prolonging your climax as you rolled your eyes at the sensations and kept jerking against the floor.
Joel immediately brought them to his lips and licked the fabric, breathing in your scent.
The sound he emitted was animalistic. The taste and smell of you, your asshole gripping his fat cock, the image of you, ruined and fucked out, finally made him let loose and explode inside your ass. He grabbed your hips tight and began fucking you with shallow thrusts, staying half-cock in just like you wanted. His balls were bouncing, slapping your asscheeks as their contents were flooding your channel like a tsunami.
“Take it— take it — take it,” Joel chanted through clenched teeth and you did take it — your asshole sucked in and swallowed every drop of his hot cum.
Joel slowly pulled out and dropped your butt on the pile of clothes. He tucked his cock back into his boxers and got up with a grunt, knowing well that his knees would hurt like hell the next day. It was worth it. As always after playing with his favorite fuckdoll, Joel felt greatly satisfied. As always after being fucked by him, you looked completely wrecked.
He offered you a hand and helped you to stand on your trembling legs. Then he pinched your chin and tilted your head up, searching for your hazy eyes.
“Ya good?“
You nodded with a drunk smile and he sneered. He really found a perfect slut.
“‘k, clean yourself up and go to bed. You’ll sleep really well now, babydoll.”
He pressed his body to yours and snaked his hand to your naked ass. He found your hole and gently prodded it. It was leaking his cum.
”Say ’thank you for the milk, daddy,’” he whispered, looking into your eyes with a sneer.
“Thanks for the milk. Daddy,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.
Joel brought your panties to his face and took a deep whiff.
“And thank you for the souvenir, little slut,” he winked at you and then left the room.
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Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3
SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST
Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40
People who were interested in pt 3; no pressure to read, bbs: @tateypots @amyispxnk @filetofishfan @lilac-boo @toxicanonymity @sunshineispunk @thundermartini @arcanefox207 @tammythr
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captain-bubble-wrap · 1 day ago
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You have to do it! Grocery shopping with Quinn! 🛒 ☺️
Because of those shopping gifs, huh? I know the ones!
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"Ready, babe?" Quinn spoke louder than his usual, putting on his flat-billed hat in the mirror while he waited for you at the door. He had been ready to go for a few minutes but would never purposefully rush you, especially for something as mundane as grocery shopping. He really didn't want to go but the house was looking a little bare and the fridge was near depleted of anything fresh. It was simply time to go.
Quinn had told you that he was fine going solo but you had insisted on keeping him company, and didn't think it fair to make him go alone when you used equally as much of everything as he did, if not more especially when he was on the road.
"Yeah, I'm ready!" You said, hurrying from somewhere else in the apartment. You were still buttoning your coat when you got to his side.
"You look cute," he commented, wrapping his arms around you for a moment.
You smiled, "Thanks, babe! You don't look too bad yourself!"
Quinn would laugh and give you a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You had no idea where the two of you were headed, but anywhere with Quinn was a good place to be. Outside, it was much colder than it was normally due to the Artic blast moving through the region, and it made being outside quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, you wouldn't have too far to walk, in any of your errand stops, but when the air hurt to breathe -- it was never ideal.
"I don't think I've ever missed the rain so much in my life," you joked, climbing into the passenger seat.
"This isn't my favourite either," he replied clicking both seat warmers on as soon as the car was started. "Won't take long now. You know you can stay home, babe. No sense in you being cold if you don't have to."
"I know, but I don't want you to go alone!"
Quinn shook his head as he smiled, "Babe--"
"I know, I know, you don't mind," you mocked him playfully. "But I mind, so I'm going with you!"
"You're ridiculous," he laughed. "Alright, well, if you're sure. Off we go."
- - -
"I'm going to drop you at the door then I'll go find a parking spot," Quinn said, pulling into the lot. "And before you say anything, I want you to go inside and be warm."
Mustering the deepest pout you could, you looked at Quinn as the car came to a stop, but he wasn't having any part of it. "Quinn--"
"Babe, just trust me, please."
"Fiiiiiine," you whined, slipping out of the car and going into the store alone. You'd stay just inside the automatic doors and wait to see where he parked. Everyone and their mothers seemed to be out shopping today, forcing Quinn to have to park in the near back lot. He looked so miserable as he rushed toward the store, trying to duck down in to his coat as his hands were buried in his pockets. When the double doors opened, he'd make his way to you, his cheeks red from the harsh air.
"Brrr!" Quinn remarked, putting an arm around you. "It's cold in here, too!"
"Says the hockey player!"
He laughed, sheepishly, "It's not that cold on the ice like it is outside!"
"Fair enough," you teased. "Basket or cart?"
"Probably cart. Stock you up before I go out of town next week."
You looked down at being reminded that Quinn would soon be leaving for more games away from home. Your bed wouldn't be as warm, there would be no one to share a bath with before bed, no one to laugh with over dinner in the evenings, and the apartment would soon be deafly quiet. Being unable to keep your expression from dropping, you would turn your face away from him for a moment to keep from crying in public.
Quinn, always in tune with your usual moods would notice this change and would ask you about it after returning from getting you both a cart. "You got quiet, babe. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," you mumbled, picking up a random item to look at it as if you were interested in taking it home.
"I didn't think you liked peanut butter," he quipped, leaning over your shoulder at the package of fudge you were holding.
"I-- don't," you said, unable to lie, and putting it back on the display you had robbed it from. Your cover was blown before you could even get behind it. Damn Quinn for being so quick sometimes, though you knew he hated when you kept things from you, namely when things were bothering you.
"Did I say something?" Quinn questioned, his hand resting on your waist, hoping you'd look at him.
"No, baby, it's me being sad over you leaving," you finally confessed, only looking at him after you had spoken your truth. "I'm just-- being a baby."
"You're my baby," he would whisper in your ear, in the hopes that it might make you smile if only because of how cringe it had been. "I know you don't like when I leave, and trust me, I know how it feels."
Your eyes were beginning to sting, fighting against your emotions, "I know it's your job, Quinn. I'm not trying to be one of those girls who comes off all spoiled and selfish. I just-- I just miss you."
Quinn smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead while you still faced him. "I know you do, and I don't think you're being selfish. You understand that this is my life. No one says it's easy, sweetheart."
With a sigh you leaned into him, face buried in the curve of his neck. At the moment, you didn't care that you were in public, having an episode of emotional weakness. You were in Quinn's arms and safe, everyone else could kick rocks. They didn't need to understand.
"Do you want to go home, babe?" He asked, leaning his head against yours.
You wouldn't answer him, you'd just shake your head slightly.
"For what it's worth, I'm not gone yet," he said with a smile in his tone.
This would get you to pull your eyes back to his. He had a point, and one that you were thankful for.
"I sorry, Quinn," you apologized solemnly. "I shouldn't be that way."
He kissed you again, knowing it often fixed things when you were feeling down, but he felt that you were struggling. "You're perfectly fine. I should be more careful with my words."
"You don't need to do that. I'll be okay. Maybe one day it won't hurt as bad-- but...I dunno."
Frowning, Quinn would touch your cheek, but his hands were cold. You'd take it in both of yours and try your best to give him a smile. "I love you. Sorry you have to put up with me like this."
"I just hope I help instead of making you sad."
"You do, I promise."
On that positive note, the two of you would finally get back to the reason of why you were there in the first place. "Should we get to shopping?" He laughed.
"Probably!"
- - -
"Bread?" He asked, standing before a literal wall of options.
"Oh, yeah! Sourdough!"
"Which is--," he stammered, watching you pinpoint the loaf you were after before he could finish his question. "That-- was oddly impressive."
"I know my bread!"
"That you do," he laughed, as you placed in in the cart. "What else do you want?"
Looking at the contents of the cart, you wondered if there was anything else that you needed. There was meat, vegetables and fruit, there were even a couple bottles of wine, and nothing else was ringing in your brain that you needed to get. That would likely hit you only after you were home.
"I can't think of anything. Is there anything you want?"
Quinn looked just as lost as you did which is probably why he laughed at your question. "I can't think of anything either."
"Oh! I know!" You said, excitedly. "I've been craving breaded shrimp!"
"Really?"
"Yeah! Remember those sushi rolls I made with the fried shrimp, avocado and cucumber?"
His face lit up at the mention of sushi, "Those were so good! Are you saying we're having sushi for dinner?"
"Of course!"
- - -
"Here, take my card. I'm going to run out and get the car started and then I'll meet you out front and get them loaded, okay?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he said before placing another kiss your forehead. "Wait for me inside, please."
Not wanting to argue with him when he was being so kind and considerate, you nodded while he headed for the harsh world outside the store. It would take a while to get everything scanned and bagged, but eventually the time had come to brace for going back out into it.
Quinn was right where he said he would be, the silver SUV rolling into view when he saw you waiting there. He'd get out and insist on taking the cart while you got into the warmed interior of the car.
"I can help you," you begged, talking to him from the front seat.
"It's alright, babe, you just sit tight. I'm alright. Hockey player, remember?"
You'd roll your eyes at him while smiling. "I offered."
"I know you did, and I appreciate it."
Once everything was said and done, the heat was set on full as the two of you headed off from the grocery; safe and sound from the blistering wind battering the car.
"Anywhere else we need to go?" He asked, a cold hand finding your thigh.
"I just want to go home."
"Home it is."
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count-on-mi · 3 days ago
Text
Twice Interactive Story Part 8 Why are you always so naughty (Sana, Mina)
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You sigh and ready to back to work after dropping Momo, your phone breeze and you receive two message, one from your step sister Chaeyoung, another one from Sana.
I check the messages really quick to see what they're messaging me about.
You first check on your stepsister Chaeyoung's message, she said the semester is going to end soon, and she would be back from the dorm and reminds you to leave some time for her during the sem break. She said she misses you, either another step-sister Dahyun, who already graduated this summer, who lives in your family's house alone currently, as your parents have immigrated to US since you graduate from College. You are more like a father to your sister, as you are the one who raises them.
You then check on Sana's message, flirty as usual. 'Boss, can you come to pick me up? I am not familiar with the road near the hotel, and I think I get lost.🤧🤧 I promise I would only be naughty at your office from now on😳😳.'
I message Chaeyoung and tell her to bring Dahyun so they can stay over at my apartment for a little. I then message Sana that I'll come by but she better not try anything.
Chaeyoung replies she is looking forward to live at your home, but also suggest you could visit Dahyun before She's back.
You then drive to Sana's hotel and ready to pick her up. She did not wear the shirt she tore yesterday, instead with a short dress and your jacket, her cleavage can be easily seen. She gets in the car, kisses your cheek, and hands you a coffee, you could see there is some lipstick remaining on the straw.
I put the coffee in the cup holder and drive to the office, telling her I don't have time for her today, so she should actually be working. I quickly leave her and head to my office where I call Mina in.
'Can you just spare some time for me?' Sana asks when she gets off the car. You tell her that you are busy and quickly leave her.
You back to your office and see Mina is already in your room and prepared coffee for you.
I enter the office, closing and locking the door behind me as I come up behind Mina and start kissing her neck.
Mina enjoys your kiss from behind, she grabs your hair and pushes you deeper, hoping you can mark more hickeys on her neck.
'Give me more, let other know I belong to you.' Mina moaning while you start getting off her clothes.
I slide my hand under her panties and start to finger her. "Does little Minari like having my fingers deep in her tight pussy?" I ask.
Mina blush when you are teasing her, her whole body is lying on yours, hoping to hide her fed face. You try to go deeper, forcing Mina to answer your question.
'Minari likes everything from boss, but Minari does not make boss cum from the alarm this morning, Minari deserves punishment.' Mina starts to collapse due to your teasing.
"No, no, no, Mina. You did good, it's my fault that I cut you off like that." My fingers go deeper into Mina, and I go faster making her cum quickly. "You can make up for last time right now."
Mina completely falls on you when she reaches the orgasm, too shy to show her facial expression at the moment she peaks. Biting you clothes to minimize the noise of her moan.
It's too cute that you just caress her cheek and ask her to clean your finger.
'Taste yourself, tell me how is it.'
Mina follows my orders slowly licking my fingers and sucking on them. "That felt good, didn't it Mina? Your about to get something much bigger, so get ready."
Mina kneels down after cleaning your finger.
'Let me continue my job, sir.'
Mina starts removing your trousers and caress your shaft, you just sit on the sofa to enjoy her services. Mina strokes your cock until it is fully erect, then she starts to lick it.
"That’s nice Mina, keep going" I put my hand on the top of her head and gently guide her to taking the top of my cock in her mouth as she starts to give me a blowjob.
You slowly push Mina's head, guiding her to swallow whole your length in her mouth. She starts sucking it immediately after you are all in, her tongue licking your shaft, while her hands are massaging your ball.
'OH, Minari, such a good girl.' You start pushing her head deeper for more pleasure, you reach her deep throat once again. Her suction becomes greater, and she starts to Bob her quickly, while her hands are playing with your nipple and the balls at the same time.
"You're such a good secretary Mina, always doing such a great job." I cup her cheek, and let her continue at her own pace.
Seeing you still not cum, Mina starts to Bob her head faster and looking you with an innocent face. You were triggered by her innocence, you just grab ger head towards you, and cum in her mouth.
Mina swallow all of your seed, start stroking you and ask with a sad face, 'Boss take longer time to cum, is Minari doing bad today?'
"That’s not it at all Mina, I just wanted to last a little bit longer. I love when you give me a blowjob, you always do a great job. There's something else I want though. Sit on my lap Mina."
Knowing you want more, Mina removes her panties and sits on your lap, you plant hickeys on her neck again as per her request.
Mina's thigh is rubbing your dick while you are caressing her. You soon are ready for another round.
'Can you cum inside me, boss?' Mina asks while she kiss your cheek.
"Of course, Mina" I align my cock with her pussy and bring her down onto it quickly. "Does little Minari love being filled by my cock?"
'OH, it feels so good. I feel I can never leave you again, your cock feels so good inside me, I love you so much, boss.' Mina starts moaning and riding on you.
You keep spanking her ass while Mina is moaning louder as you spank each time, she seems so needy today.
I hold onto Mina's hips and make quick thrusts into her. "How bad does Mina need my cock? "
Mina stops her riding and hugs you tighter, allowing you to control the rhythm.
'Boss, Minari can't live without your cock. Minari need your cock every day, Minari need your cock now!'
She keeps moaning as you thrust faster, you can feel she is going to cum, as her wall is squeezing you tighter.
I tell Mina to cum for me as I feel her walls tighten around me. As she cums I continue thrusting into her, not giving her any break.
Hearing your approval, Mina cums. You grab her waist tighter and increase your speed of thrusting. Her pussy becomes even tighter, it takes much more effort to go in every time.
Soon Mina cums again by the intensity fucking, her walls squeeze once again, and her cums hit your tip making you cum instantly. You keep thrusting while you shooting waves of your cum inside her.
'So Warm, boss, Minari feels so happy that you cum inside me.' Mina still milking you with her pussy, you two hug tighter while enjoying the aftertaste of the orgasm.
"You were great Mina." I move Mina's body so she's grinding against me. "Mina I might have family live with me for a little so I can't have you give me my morning alarm."
But Minari wants to wake you up everyday.' Mina looks sad when you tell her the news.
'The girl this morning should not be your girlfriend, right? If you want someone to sleep with you at night, you can find me rather than sleep with some random girls. I guess I am prettier than her?' Mina is being affectionate by laying her head on your shoulder.
'Please still let me come, boss.' Mina kisses your cheek one more time.
"You can come over but don't wake me up with the regular alarm, how about you make me breakfast instead. Oh you know what, you should  take cooking classes so you can make more things besides your omelet"
'But Minari needs that for breakfast, otherwise, I don't have the motivation for work.' Mina starts grinding your cock again, trying to seduce you, your cock starts to erect again in her pussy.
"What if we had some fun here everyday? Would that motivate you?"
'OK, but can Minari have 2 more loads every day, I will be very hungry if I only have breakfast when we back to the office.' Mina kisses you again and ask shyly. She slowly starts to ride you again.
"Of course Mina," i grab Mina's ass and give it a light smack. "You can get 2 more loads"
Mina moans again while you spank her ass, and she rides you faster as she is happy that her breakfast is now guaranteed although no more alarm is required.
Suddenly, someone is knocking on the door when Mina rides you fiercely, she feels scared and try to hide behind you. You quickly wear back your trousers and answer the door.
It is Sana, she is only wearing your jacket, just like yesterday. You can see her finger is playing her clit, her face is red and breath so heavily.
'Can I join you, sir? I feel so horny when hearing Mina moans like that, I can't focus on my work, I need you now sir.' Sana asks while grabbing you inside the jacket and play with her tits.
I turn around and tell Mina she was too loud, and Sana heard her.
Mina blushes when she hears you say she was too loud. 'Sorry boss, I didn't mean it, but it's feeling so good. I feel so dirty when you fuck me after you fucking other girls last night, I love this feeling.'
Sana kisses your and pushes you in the room, 'What if we continue?' The door is locked again.
"Fine, but I'm going to need you two to clean me up."
Of course, I will clean you sir, but let me finish you off first.' Sana pulls down your trousers again and starts jerking you off. You unbutton her jacket so you can play with her tits freely. You two just stand by the door, and make out passionately.
Mina is sitting on your chair, watch you two make out, don't know how to join the threesome, so she just fingering herself.
"I've got an idea, Mina lay on my desk. Sana you're going to clean Mina's pussy, while I fuck you."
Mina lays on your desk, and shyly spreads her leg for Sana. You can see the mixture of cum slowly dripping from her pussy.
Sana can't wait to taste it, she licks Mina's clit immediately, 'Damn, so tasty, I want it inside too, you are so lucky, Mina.' Mina just keep moaning while grabbing Sana's hair.
You align your cock with Sana's pussy, ready to take her from behind. Sana is so wet that you can easily penetrate her with one thrust.
'Shit, I have waited for this for whole night long, faster sir.' Sana moans happily, you bend down and grab her breast, while enjoying their moan echo in the room.
I push Sana's head further into Mina. "Come on Mina, force her to get everything. She's your plaything too"
Mina shyly follows your order, grabbing Sana's head harder and push her toward her pussy. Sana obeys, and go deeper with tongue, Mina moans louder as the sensation is becoming stronger.
Meanwhile, You fuck Sana faster and keep spanking her ass, her ass becomes red, and she is excited by the spanking, her walls become tighter. With three more thrusts, she cums, she sucks Mina harder and bring Mina reaches orgasm at the same time.
I quicken my thrusts and eventually cum inside Sana. I give her ass on last spank as I pull out.
You pull Mina for a kiss and then put her on the table, ready to fuck her again. Sana is not happy to be ignored, she stands at your back, pressing you with her breast and pushes you to thrust in Mina before you are ready to start. Mina was shocked and moaned loudly. You find that you had entered Mina's ass.
As I find it to be tighter I start thrusting into Mina's ass "oh fuck, Mina your ass feels so good, I could get used to this." I moan.
Mina slowly get used to your size within her ass, but it is so tight, you can just keep a lower pace, preventing Mina suffer from pain.
'OH shit, Minari never tried in ass before, it feels so good, sir. Please fuck me better.'
Seeing Mina totally adapted to your size, you start fuck her harder, her pussy is already very tight as you are the one who takes her virginity, but her ass is even tighter. You just can't stop fucking her ass.
'Seems I have done a great job, can I have some reward?' Sana licks your ear while keep pushing you by her breast.
"No your punishment for pushing me is you don't get any more cock for today. You can sit on Mina’s face if you want."
'Maybe you will have another answer soon.'
Sana kisses your cheek one more time before she kneels down, you do not care what's she going to do, you are just focusing on the sensation from Mina' s ass.
Until you feel something warm on your balls, Sana is playing your balls and licking your shaft, every time your cock comes out of Mina's ass, Sana licks your cock before you put in again. Her another hand is playing with Mina's clit, both you are receiving a double pleasure now.
Mina reaches her orgasm soon,' My ass is so hot, fuck me harder boss. I'm cumming!' Her ass squeezes you tighter, and you feel you are ready to reach your orgasm either, your cork is pulsing very hard.
My cock throbs inside Mina's ass, and I shove it all inside her as I unleash a wave of cum, flooding her asshole.
You thrust all in as you released waves of cum into Mina's ass, Mina's leg just grab your waist tighter, hoping you can reach deeper into her ass. While Sana is keep playing with your ball, allowing you to cum more in Mina.
'Boss, it feels so good in my ass, I would never forget this feeling.' Mina still recovering from this intensive orgasm, you bend down to kiss her. 'Mina, you are doing a good job, I have so much fun in your ass.'
Once you pull out from Mina's ass, the semen keep dripping out, Sana is waiting for this moment too long, she sucks Mina's ass and swallow your seed.
'No, Miss Sana, that's mine, don't rob it.' Mina is still recovering, as she could just contest feebly and shivers from the pleasure that Sana sucking her ass.
I move to Mina's side and tell her "You can have it from the source Mina."
You move to another side of the table and push your shaft into Mina's mouth. 'If you work harder, maybe you can have more for your breakfast.'
Meanwhile, Sana is playing with her ass and clit at the same time, Mina could not handle the pleasure from all 3 holes used at the same time, she can just twist her body, making your documents fall to the floor. The sensation makes Mina want to moan, but she couldn't, as you are face fucking her.
Three of you are going to cum soon, as you can hear Sana moan louder and feel Mina's mouth becomes tighter, as Mina could not moan, she could just apply more force on her muscles to release her pleasure.
I cum inside Mina's mouth, and she drinks it all. "Oh you did such a good job today Mina." I moan, "I think we'll be having lots of fun with the extra cum I need to give you.”
Mina is excited by the comments that she can have more cum, she starts cleaning your shaft and start sucking it again. You shaft is still sensitive from the orgasm, you just start face fucking her again. Sana sees you start the round, she participates again, this time licking the pussy and fingering Mina's ass.
You two just spend the whole morning playing with Mina's body, you use Mina's mouth like a pussy, cumming three times inside, and for the last orgasm, you shoot all of your seed on her face.
You don't know how many times Mina cum, her body still shaking from the intensive sex, even after You and Sana has left her body. Mina seems want to say something, but she is too exhausted to even move her lips.
Sana stands up and comes to you, caressing your cock. 'Did my performance satisfy you and Mina? Do you still have one more load for me, master?'
"I told you would get no more for today Sana, as a punishment."
Sana did not give up, she starts stroking you and kissing you. 'How about in my mouth, or on my face, I wanna everyone know I am your cum slut. Ruin me, Ruin my jacket.' Sana whispers seductively in your ear.
Yes, Sana is still in your jacket, all unbuttoned, but it is nearly a mess, the previous sex makes it wrinkle, anyone can know Sana just have fierce sex if she wears this go out of your room.
"Sana I'm willing to give you extra cum tomorrow of you leave, properly dressed, right now."
Sana unwilling to let your cock go after one last stroke, then she helps you to tidy the room and pick up the documents that fell on floor due to Mina. Meanwhile, you put Mina on the sofa, allow her to rest better.
Sana buttons the jacket, still with nothing inside, ready to get back to work. Before she opens the door, she asks while she bites her lips ' Boss, what do you want me to wear for tomorrow, just like today, or I should wear a Shirt and skirt so you can tear it down.'
"Wear some regular clothes" I tell her. Once the door is closed I get back to work. Making plans for what to do after. Thinking about maybe going on a run.
'OK boss, I will wear something that you can easily tear tomorrow.' Sana leaves after sending you a wink.
You turn back to your seat and see Mina already fall asleep. You text Jihyo that you will go jogging tonight and ask her will her join you.
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authorhjk1 · 2 days ago
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Hi! It's my first time to use tumblr ask/post functions. I'm glad to see your ideas about colorful dress and SNSD. Here are some Seohyun in this elegant pearl dress you would love.
(181230 SNSD Seohyun at 2018 MBC Drama Awards)  https://kpopping.com/documents/02/4/800/DvryzVOUUAElz74.jpeg?v=593d1  https://kpopping.com/documents/d3/4/800/DvryzVOUYAAImie.jpeg?v=1981c  
Pearl
(Seohyun X Male Reader)
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You wake up to your phone ringing. As you reach for it, you glance at the time. Why would someone call you in the middle of the night? You groan in frustration, before answering the call, still half asleep.
"C-Can you come over?"
The woman on the other side of the line sounds desperate. You hear her breath hitch.
You move the phone away from your ear to check the caller ID.
"Seohyun?"
Her answer is a long, drawn out moan.
"What is going on?"
"I can't help it."
She finally responds, her breath heavy.
"For the last five nights I watched our video to get off, but now..."
A disappointed, almost frustrated whine leaves her lips.
"Now I need the real thing again."
You hear her sigh and while she waits for your answer, you also hear her playing with herself. Her fingers seem to move in and out of her pussy, the wet sounds clearly audible when she doesn't speak.
"I was sleeping, Seohyun."
You remind her of the time, but she doesn't listen.
"Please, I'm begging you."
Another moan leaves her lips, before she can continue.
"I came home from this one award show an hour ago and since then I've been playing with myself non stop."
Her whining tone and the mental image of Seohyun getting off to you fucking her for over an hour has your cock hardening.
"I feel like I keep edging myself again and again. But I can't get off properly."
Another loud moan follows her words.
You sigh, slowly getting out of your bed. There's no way you're able to go back to sleep now.
"Send me your address."
After hanging up the phone, you get dressed and get your car keys.
You wait a good minute for her to open the door once you arrive at her place. When she finally does, you are greeted by a mix of elegance and lust. She still seems to be wearing the dress she wore to the award show. But her hair is slightly disheveled and her cheeks are red.
"Why are you still wearing this?"
You question Seohyun as you step into her apartment.
"I can't take it off by myself. An I left early because I couldn't stop thinking about this."
She reaches forward and cups your cock through your pants.
"Didn't you tell me that you aren't a very sexually active person?"
Seohyun shrugs her shoulders.
"Your cock changed that."
You would've laughed if it wasn't for her desperate look.
"Fine. But before I give you what you want, I want to feel those."
You nod towards Seohyun's beautiful mounds, which seem to look even bigger than last time.
"Of course."
She almost moans, before getting on her knees in front of you.
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You watch how she looks up at you, teasingly biting her lip. Then, Seohyun pulls down her dress a little and frees her alluring tits. She quickly gets rid off your pants and underwear and leans forward. After gathering a little saliva in her mouth, she lets it dribble off her lips and onto your cock. The sudden warmth almost makes you sigh. Seohyun wraps her boobs around your length and holds them together with her hands.
"Do you like them like this?"
She knows you do. You can only nod in approval when Seohyun starts to move her upper body. Up and down she moves, your now wet cock gliding through the gap between her smooth tits.
After a couple of moments, she lets a second load of saliva fall onto your tip. Her mounds soon spread it all over your length. You can't help but rest a hand on her head, when your knees begin to buckle. You didn't expect this to feel so good.
"Damn, Seohyun."
You groan and she looks up at you with a proud smile playing around her lips. Her tits feel amazing wrapped around your cock. They're soft and smooth, making it easy for her to move along your length.
Soon, she leans down again, but instead of adding more saliva, you feel her tongue dart out to lick your tip.
"Don't."
You hiss, which makes Seohyun do it again immediately.
"You're gonna make me cum soon, if you keep this up"
You warn her, but Seohyun's smile is now mischievous.
"I don't mind. As long as you give me that pounding afterwards."
She adjusts her grip on her tits and lowers her upper body a little. Now, more of your cock appears between her tits, whenever she moves down. You watch her opening her mouth and capturing your tip with her lips.
"Damn it."
You groan, your fingers slightly digging into Seohyun's scalp. The combination of her soft mounds and her luscious lips leaves your head spinning. You should probably be used to this at this point, but you didn't expect Seohyun to be this good. Her tongue dances around your tip, while her lips move up and down, just like her boobs, which are wrapped around most of your cock.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum all over you."
Your grip on her hair tightens, which makes Seohyun lift her head off your dick again. Looking up at you, she gives you her best fuck me face, while her tits keep gliding along your length. Your breath hitches when she applies a little bit more pressure, the friction around your cock suddenly increasing.
You groan, almost in disappointment, when you finally orgasm. On instinct, you pull Seohyun's head back a little to protect her face, which just means that you cover her soft mounds and her collarbone with your cum. It looks amazing on her porcelain like skin as it glistens in the lights of her apartment.
Seohyun lets out a satisfied sigh, feeling the warmth of your semen coat her skin. Your cock between her tits is still hard and you slowly start to thrust in between them.
"How do you want me to fuck you?"
Your question makes the heat rise inside of her. The slight tingle inside her pussy urges her on to jump into action.
"First, get me out of this dress."
Moments later, Seohyun stands completely naked in front of you with her tits and collarbone still covered in your cum. You can't help but marvel at her effortless beauty. When you eventually snap out of it, you remember Seohyun's words from the interview last time.
"Take control."
With two big steps you close the distance between the two of you. Before Seohyun can say something, you push her against the wall behind her. One hand grabs her waist, the other reaches under right thigh, making her lift her leg a little.
"How bad do you want it now?"
You whisper, your lips brushing against hers as Seohyun feels your tip graze her own wet folds.
"Take me until the sun comes up."
While pulling her in, you thrust forward, sliding your cock into her tight wet cavern. Her lower lips desperately grip your cock as it goes deeper into her. Seohyun moans into your mouth, finally feeling your cock stretching her out again.
Soon after you start to fuck her into the wall behind her, her right leg wrapped around your torso, you feel her hands on your back. Her nails dig into your skin and as you make Seohyun moan your name again and again, she scratches at your back, finally releasing all that pent up lust.
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shouyuus · 23 hours ago
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sry sry blame @vifilms for showing me a pic of vi's back and now i can't stop thinking about just... lying behind her, or even sitting over top of her waist, tracing your fingers gently over the shape of her back tattoo as she lies on her stomach, her cheek pillowed over her crossed hands.
"these are beautiful..." you say.
she chuckles, "i guess they are but... i didn't feel beautiful when i got them."
you run your index finger along the light curls of powder blue smoke.
"doesn't make them any less so."
she laughs again, shifting slightly beneath you, letting her eyes fall shut. and as you run your fingers down each of the designs, she begins to talk --
"i had two brothers once, too -- i dunno if i ever told you that."
you shake your head, before realizing that she can't see.
"no, you haven't. i thought powder -- jinx -- was your only sibling."
vi hums, "yeah, we had the same mom and dad but mylo and claggor... they were family too."
your eyes drop to the pair of twin keys notched at the base of her spine, the teeth carved into the shapes -- m and c. you touch them gently and she shivers.
"down in the lanes... family just means the people you watch out for, and the people who watch out for you."
you laugh, walking the tips of your fingers up the length of her spine, tracing the dark cogs that turn against her skin.
"i think that's how family works everywhere, vi. you're born with one... and as you grow up... you can choose another one."
her eye peaks open as she glances at you over her shoulder, her gaze impossibly soft.
"yeah... guess so..." she shifts slightly beneath you as you trace up to the swirls of blue smoke twisting over her shoulders.
"and i'm guessing these are for..."
"jinx," vi answers, her voice faraway, "or i guess... she was still powder to me then."
you draw your fingers along the bends and curves of smoke, before you trace over each of the dark mechanical lines running over her shoulders and down the backs of her arms.
"and... these?"
vi sighs, "those were... reminders, i guess. when i was -- in stillwater... there's only so much you can do to keep yourself sane in there. and... i guess i just wanted a way to prove to myself that i could still... feel something. and..." a small laugh escapes her, "i thought that if i could ink these metal cogs and spires on my skin that maybe... somehow, i could be stronger, harder, less..."
her voice is bone-porcelain thin.
you lean down to press your lips to the nape of her neck.
"breakable?" you offer.
she puffs out a breath.
"stupid, isn't it?"
you kiss down the slopes of her shoulder, ghosting fingers behind the warmth of your lips. you shake your head so she feels you against her.
"not at all."
"and... powder always seemed to love her mechanical toys so much that i thought... well --" her voice shudders for half a second before it breaks, and she clears her throat, turning to bury her face in her arms, sighing into the soft linens of the bed below.
"that maybe... if you made yourself a bit more like them..." you say, pressing your cheek to her bare skin, "that... she might love you like she used to?"
vi makes a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a sigh. she doesn't turn, but her shoulders shrug up ever so slightly as she answers --
"or... forgive me... just a little."
you hum against her skin.
"will it help if i told you that it's not your fault?"
that makes her laugh, and she shifts just enough to peer up at you from beneath her dark lashes.
"it took me a while to get there, but i... i think i've forgiven myself for it... most of it, at least."
you feel her tap your thigh, and you lift up just enough for her to twist around. you grin as she settles you over her hips again, running warm palms along your legs, up to the bend of your waist, a loped grin slung lazily across her lips.
"good," you say, leaning down for a brief kiss. she groans against you, biting down on your lower lip. "anything i can do to help with the rest?" you ask, pulling away just far enough for her to dig her fingertips into the plush of your hips.
vi's eyes flicker, and her smile goes snake-bitten and sweet before she rucks you down over her hips and a gasp stitches out of you.
"sure... i think i've got a few... ideas."
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wuahae · 1 day ago
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hiii hehe :3 first off i'm SOO sorry it took me this long to get around to it omg i really wanted to go into this with a #Fresh mindset and also school Just started and already is pummeling me into the ground but . it's saturday Monday. and i am Here now and i just cracked open a cold one (ginger ale) and i am Ready to get into it!!!!
Here, in the dark, there is just you. 
banger first line btw its so telling... also i remember workshopping this first scene with you and i'm so glad this is what you decided on! it sets the mood perfectlyyyy it fits the perfect amount of humor (SHAKIRA WAITS FOR NO ONE!!!) and ambiance and the ENERGYYY of it is so good like Yeah this is an opening scene of a 2010s romcom! its likeee yeah even though you're in this club at fuckass o'clock the ghost of your mother and all your expectations still digs into you... you can never run away you can only face the things you must!!!! also another thing i wanna say is that its kinda crazy how short this scene is but there's so many things that it establishes like Man... That's good writing... yn who is forced to be everything she isn't and as a result she cannonballs herself into everything she Shouldn't be... just so she can have the feeling of being nothing at all.... yeah!!! oh to be young and wild and free . But what does it all mean for the future...
They stand tall in their planters, majestic and hairy with French lavender. Today you notice that the rightmost one's nose has been pruned off by accident, and he stands, snoutless, staring at his green brothers and sisters. 
picture perfect palace hosting a picture perfect family but if you look close enough you see signs of the suffocation.. the overbearing preening.... WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!! also the part about y/n noticing the little details about the number of terracotta stones... its like Yeah it's probably bc she's been in this palace all her life but also its like. no one would pay attention to those things if some ounce of her didn't care. used to. etc.
Your father paces near the window, either wondering why you can't be softer, more pliable, like your older brother Jeonghan, or, alternatively, why one of the lions is missing a nose.
only the real ones know who jeonghan used to be... YOU WILL BE MISSED 😭😭😭😭😭
"We have arranged for you to marry someone."  And all at once, it seems as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's a sharp pain lodged somewhere between your chest, your stomach, and your unhappy liver. The larks sing emptily in the garden. 
the pacing is sooo good here like yeah... top 10 announcements you won't believe! also the detail of the larks is so good it places you back into the palace setting and also it makes the palace seem so like. big. empty. just a bunch of air and space.
"Why?" you ask. Your voice wobbles, treading over that childlike waver you never learned to control. "Is this to punish me?"  / She's right. She's always been right. Maybe not about the swimsuit, but you haven’t exactly been the PR princess your family needed you to be. If anything, you would think it made Jeonghan look better by comparison, but you know that your parents would prefer you to make appearances in something other than Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted. But the royal charade never fit you well either; it clings and sticks and bunches up at the seams like a cheap Halloween costume. 
this makes me sooo like. MY BABYYYYY.... the emphasis on like. you might be an adult but whenever you're dealing with your parents or anything royal it just feels like you're a Child all over again (childlike waver / cheap halloween costume)... i have nothing else to say that doesn't involve my own convoluted parental trauma but just know i #GetHer
You were so sore the next day, you were bed-bound–truly a punishment worse than death, if not for another reminder that everything you do ends up hurting you a little. 
OWIE.....
Past August, you don't think you ever got your brother back.
i loooove this relationship with jeonghan btw idk if i ever said this to you but its like. vulnerabilities in yn that show she isn't just being disobedient to Be disobedient and like. she cares!!!! she just copes bad and has no one around to help her... not anymore :( also this scene in general is just really good backstory without being too monologue-y which is something i am Always impressed by... Good worldbuilding. good dynamic.
Without thinking, you quickly push out the first excuse you have. "I apologize, I was—" 
also i think its so interesting how like. before you know it's jihoon at the door you default to your more proper princess "I apologize" smth that like. Fits your position more even though on the surface level you've long given up on being proper or whatever impossible thing your mother expects you to be.... yeah. Trying is still somehow ingrained in your being
"You forgot your jacket," Jihoon replies. 
unfortunately for both of us i endlessly need him. also reliable best friend jihoon meeowwww I NEEED YOOUUUUU. also yn's imposter syndrome and guilt complex is making me soooo sad....
You wish she was human for a moment so you could show her the crater-sized hole that "prince joshua google images" left in your browser history. 
THIS IS SOOOFDMLDFK me searching up Joshua Hong boyfriend on pinterest to the same effect
The mental image of Joshua Hong being struck down by the first ten seconds of Throat Goat makes you laugh, but you still don't feel far away enough from the truth.
#foreshadowing
You knew you should have done better for your brother, but he didn’t even feel like your brother anymore. 
nooo..... fuck. also me reading this knowing full well What happened that day.... rocking back and forth chanting My Shaylaa....
So you press your heart to Astrid's mane, the pale moon high over the both of you, and you ride. 
astrid who represents the last bit of your childhood and yourself and your Brother, all of which you wonder if you can even bring with you to acros, pressing your heart to her and all that she encompasses... Yeah
You choose to let it slide—you have no choice, really. At least you have an ass. 
#smallblessings
"Didn't know you had a choice."
ooohhhh he's soo.... ITS SO ARC WORDS!!! of course he would say that....
"I mean, I read an insane amount of Dan Brown," you reply. "Not many of us can say we've solved the Davinci code, you know." 
this is actually the worst im clawing at my neck rn MDSFJSDFML is there any greater humiliation than someone not laughing at your jokes...... LAUGH WITH MEEEEE oh my god.... josh being hot and boring. the 10th circle of hell.
You glance to your right to catch a glimpse of Joshua. He smiles, a dutiful press of the lips, and you watch it ripple.
heol........... the first crack in his mask. hah... tfw you're so annoying u make resident stick-in-ass regret his princely duties
He's out of words, so he bends down to awkwardly pat you on the head, which, in all your years of knowing him, is the most affection he can muster. This is why you prefer horses to Jihoon for therapy, although you appreciate the effort. 
he is SOOOOO..... I NEED HIM 😭😭😭😭😭
You still keep your pillow pet on your bed (a horse named Robert).
i tried thinking of a horse pun with robert pattinson for a joke and the best i could come up with was cobert pattinson... robert trottinson... me when rob is destined to have bat puns no matter what . but anyway i love that yn is consistently a horse girl its so cute HSDFJLSFDKM
He's got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don't blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable. 
THIS IS SOOOODSFMSDFLKJ aaron taylor johnson Where are you!!!
"Oh right, because this is where happiness goes to die, huh?" You snatch it back from him, feeling the knot of anger in your gut flare. 
Oh that's not...... 😬 well Yes actually!
You sink into your side of the bed, a damask-woven vat of quicksand, and watch the spears of light dance on the ceiling.
imagery that fucks immensely..
The prince of Acros owning a book with the words "juicy", "mewling", and "best friend's brother" in the first fifty pages are enough to tide you over for the night. Probably the next week, to be honest.
prince joshua hong caught reading ICEBREAKER?!
"Is it too bright for you?" Joshua's voice, now tempered by the stillness of the evening, pulls you out of your thoughts. "I can turn the lamp off."  / Joshua smiles, and this time, you think it's a real one. 
also one thing to mention is that i love how after the truce is settled they're quick to act like. civilly/almost kind to each other like. they're both not Bad or intentionally hard-to-stand people it's just they're both put in impossible situations . a thin line between hate and kinship and love... etc etc etc. speaking of hate u are an expert at writing e2l banter the tension is palpable
"Any minute now," bitches Jihoon from the other side of the door. 
HE IS SOOOSDFMDSFLK my favorite animal is jihoon being forced to do anything for the royal family. also you calling yourself a HARLOT is so funny. next up the list is calling yourself a reddit-approved hussy
Outside, there is a lone photographer. The sun, morning-ripe, reflects off his camera lens like a third eye. The lawn, freakishly green, sprawls out around you, and the blue spruce frames the scene, perfect by design. 
your descriptions are SOOOO good like theyre so Telling without being too wordy or needlessly purple-y like just a few sentences from you and i am #In it
You can see why people dote on him so much—his cheeks get round, and his eyes magically gain the sparkles that people pay for on Facetune. God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him.
the thought of being fake-married to him is making me rock back and forth like actually Oh my god.... i unhinge my jaw and swallow him whole with my 8 rows of teeth.
He's just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You're at the club. They're playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada. 
CASCADA MENTION HELL YEAHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
“Shut the fuck up. Wait, is he actually coming?”  ”Dunno. Wouldn’t be very Mr. Worldwide of him to flake, though.” 
u are actually the funniest person alive. also i think its soooo like. even though you came back home to have semblance of your Old life back your thoughts inevitably drift to joshua again... trying to fit him into the familiar memory of your old life even though you know it's a little funny to imagine him with anything less than 100 year old wine in his hand... and when somi asks if she should invite him you say No even though you were clearly thinking about it . What does it all mean. the dichotomy of having a hot boring HOT fake husband... oh the terrors....
but you couldn’t let him walk away from that conversation thinking wet dirt was a normal, socially acceptable, scent for a bedroom. (—It said moss on the label! —So, dirt. —Moss is not dirt. Maybe you need to go back to school.) 
GWHMASFDLFSDK the parentheses format is so funny i'm stealing that /hj. also im soooo glad you added in this scene about seeing him half naked its so romcom-y... so shenanigans-filled.... pornhub title: HOT PRINCE WITH HUGE TITS CAUGHT NAKED!
Later, on the walk to the library, you reach for your lip gloss. Instead, you pull out q-tip number five and get mad all over again. 
like she's so funnyydfmdflk she's sooo me.
"I just have to know—how did you guys meet?" 
this entire exchange is so funny JSDFMLASDFK like i love when they're bickering and being annoying to each other i feel like they match each other so well also the little digs to each other to ruin each other's reputation... yn raccoon era. joshua stalker era.
Joshua doesn’t reply. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze has shifted. You feel it land somewhere near you, but you’re too engrossed in the race to investigate further. Perhaps he’s admitted defeat preemptively, wisely so.  “You know your stuff,” he murmurs, the clamor of the audience almost burying him. 
oh man...... an ounce of sincerity is all it takes.... me when josh sees the girl underneath the Act.... starts howling.
You turn to Joshua and clasp his hands between yours, somehow less wooden now, and so, so human. The crowd cheers; they come alive. 
OOOUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH WOLF TEARING OFF HIS SHIRT JPEG.
also next scene with josh and his damn HORSE PUNS HES SOOOO ANNOYINGJFDMLDF but also this is the first time we're really seeing him not be prickly and testy and being Lame so its like. you show me your cards ill show you mine... etc. he's just trying to make you comfortable cause you really are a Team rn... oh man. OH MAN.
You’re not asking for love—just a little bit of like. and, right now, you think you like Joshua Hong. 
rubs hands together like a little fly... all according to plan. also theyre just soooo cute oh my god...
“Do you want to keep this?” Jihoon holds up a choker that resembles a jock strap. “When did you even wear this? It looks like a cat toy.” 
NOOOOOOO
“Right,” says Joshua, and when he gets up from the bench, he doesn’t look back. 
i have a lot of things to say about this scene and All of them are good... i remember the first time you brought up Piano as a scene and i was like. Wrinkles nose. at it because of my own personal experiences with piano being used as a cheesy plot device But i told you this then and im telling you this again Now i think its so well done... the dynamic between josh and yn is so well done like. they're just starting to blindly feel around how to interact with one another now that they're not Enemies but theyre still forced-to-marry but also like. they're also starting to be friends, even if josh was being a tad insufferable After the derby. like i love that they're both fumbling around at the piano and for Once in this palace yn is leading josh on how to do something right... yn teasing him all in good nature ("buddy, left hand goes here.") and josh giving himself the leniency to be a bit of casual when no one is watching ("aw, what?" he whines. "see, i told you i was no good. give me a second.") like its all just so cute. like watching two puzzle pieces spin themselves around trying to click. Pajama joshua is better than prince joshua... but even pajama joshua is thinking of duty... duty the knife and the wound... and Of Course josh brings it up when they're having a cute moment like OF COURSE!!! rubs my temples. yn trying to change the topic again. josh opening up again about wanting to play guitar because this is Pajama Joshua who doesn't know how to read the ledger lines and makes silly puns and not Prince Joshua who looks at you with a firm press in his brow... like everyone else with a crown... Man.
“That's not really fair.” You absentmindedly play a few keys, all disjointed. “Taking guitar lessons doesn’t make you a problem child.”  “It's not about that, though,” Joshua says. He's avoiding your eyes. “It's everything, together. I couldn't just pick up a guitar and be someone else.”  [...] “Yeah, and you think I don’t think about that every day? How, maybe, if I had done something different, then we wouldn’t be here?”  You feel stung. You don’t know how to tell him that you’ve been trying to figure out the same thing your whole life. If you were a better daughter, you’d have spared everyone the trouble. Unfortunately, you’d gotten it wrong so many times, you stopped trying.
FUCK!!! like this whole exchange is such masterful character building . joshua who doesn't know How to give himself leeway and does whatever mommy and daddy tell him because if he disobeys one thing then its like a slippery slope and all of a sudden he'll let himself think he can be someone other than a prince. vs yn who doesn't see the big deal because what's one misstep when her entire life is just one purposeful fuck-up.... but it doesn't even matter!! because even if josh was rebellious and learned how to play guitar and not piano and if yn was the good little princess her parents wanted her to be they would still be here!!! both at opposite ends of the spectrum. DUTY THE KNIFE AND THE WOUND!
like the whole scene is just so push-pull... conflicting coping mechanisms... they see each other but do they really. they see but do they understand... things to consider....... anyway this is my favorite scene. i love character building.
“You ready to get stuffed?” 
GHWMAFSMLSDKVSLDFKSDVMLSDFK
“Yeah, although on second thought, maybe it’s a bad idea to bring the girl who’s gonna puke everything up anyway.” 
Just like me...
“Nope.” You pop open your compact. “I have to change, and I desperately need to locate a coffee. I will suck a fucking bean off if i need to.”  “I'm hanging up on you,” Somi whines. “It's too early for you to be gross and late.”   “As if you weren’t talking about getting stuffed.” 
THEY ARE SOOO FUNNY like somi really is the star of the show... if this was in the 2000s she'd be played by judy greer
“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 
i love how his humor slowly gets more crude as the fic goes on HSDFJLSDFK like him laughing at you being the #top in the piano scene... JOSHUA HONG I KNWO WHAT YOU ARE. I KNOW THE PERSONALITY YOU'RE HIDING. also it's actually a skill to casually describe joshua in a way that is injected with so much Need but what else would i expect from husbandjoshi...
Instead, you circle each other in an unsure, clumsy dance. You can’t quite get it right. It's all the same now. The bite of a horse saddle not made for your body, the glow of your heirloom ring, now cheapened by your graceless hand, Joshua’s lonely, reaching palm as he disappears in the rearview mirror. 
aw man... i always feel so bad for her like she's always trying... all she does is try 😭😭😭 like that thing about the jeonghan play too... she tries and its not good enough and so it gets discarded anyway because what good is trying when its not good enough... better to pretend to be perfect than to try and be yourself. and whatnot. my shayla........ what a sad notion... to be perfect and lonely...
You also learn that you, paradoxically, might not know how to love Joshua Hong, but you sure do know how to kiss him. 
oh meow.............. MEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.............. you don't need me to tell you how good you are at writing intimate scenes you already know.... i also don't have much to say btw you look in my brain and its like tv static and the rainbow bars bzzzzzt bzzzztttt bzzzzzzzzzt
ok. obviously i have more to say. I will see you on the next part.
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title: royally screwed [m]
pairing: joshua x f!reader
wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. very special thanks to @meiozis for all their help with worldbuilding and @wuahae for bearing with me through the endless drafts, scene changes, second guessing, horrible word choices, etc. you are the only reason this got done, and i love you to the moon and back <3 [read part 2 here!]
Here, in the dark, there is just you. 
The strobe lights press into your skin with all the brilliance of the sun, there's half a Modelo running down your leg, and you think you kissed the stranger behind you last week, but if you close your eyes, it's just you. No rules, no five second curtseys, no talk about the throne or whoever's ass happens to be keeping it warm at the moment. 
Here, you're nobody, and it's perfect. 
"I'm getting more champagne," Somi says, her voice careening over the music. "You sure Jihoon doesn't want any?" 
You glance back at him. He's flattened up against the back wall, holding your purse, like a raccoon caught going through the trash. This is one of the many trials he's forced to endure for your entertainment, but it's his job–not as your closest friend, but as your legally employed bodyguard. 
"No, he's on duty." 
"Right," she slurs. "Sometimes I forget you're a literal princess." 
If only it were that easy. Five drinks in and you think you can still feel your mother's vice grip on your arm and all the little white crescents of her french manicure. 
You love this song–at least, you think you do. You're too drunk to tell, but it doesn't matter. The dance floor is muggy, sardine-packed with one warm body after another, and it's heaven. The crowd moves, and you move with them. Shakira waits for no one. 
Somi must have secured another bottle of Cristal already. Soonyoung, your other partner-in-crime, hands you a flute and you take it, the glittery foam already bubbling over the lip. 
"Cheers." Out of his too-drunk mouth, it sounds like a new word altogether, but you bring your glass to his anyway. 
Tomorrow, you have a meeting with your parents. This, unlike all of your other involvements, is actually important, they said, and their voices had wound around you like a snare. 
When it gets late, Jihoon will sling your arm over his shoulders and haul you back to the palace, still tipsy and holding your stilettos to your chest like a shield. Tomorrow will come, and it's then when you'll have to try to be good. It's a useless, stupid affair, but you'll go through the motions anyway. 
But tonight, there is you and the music and the wonderful laughter of your friends, and you don't have to be anything at all. 
"Cheers," you tell Soonyoung, and you drink. 
--
There are four large topiaries in the palace garden: all lions. They stand tall in their planters, majestic and hairy with French lavender. Today you notice that the rightmost one's nose has been pruned off by accident, and he stands, snoutless, staring at his green brothers and sisters. 
You know this because this is the view from the study, and it has never changed. There is only one study in the east wing, and it is small and useless and the perfect room for your parents to sit you down and remind you that you do not, in fact, own a single thing about your own life. 
There is nothing new about this ritual. Even as a child, when you were more desperate to please, you could never be the right kind of daughter to your parents or princess to your country. Again and again, you landed yourself here, in trouble once more. 
So you stopped trying–you would find these four walls anyway, no matter what you did. Why not enjoy your Fridays instead?
By now, you’ve memorized the carvings on the armrest of the chair you’re in (a knobby column, then underneath, the whorl of a seashell). There are thirty-four terracotta stones on the way to the fountain, all spaced perfectly apart, sanded down to the millimeter. 
The scene remains unchanged. Your mother now stares down at you over the bridge of her nose, with that tight-lipped frown you've gotten so used to. Your father paces near the window, either wondering why you can't be softer, more pliable, like your older brother Jeonghan, or, alternatively, why one of the lions is missing a nose. Maybe both.
"Enjoy yourself yesterday?" your mother asks. 
"Yes," you reply, out of other answers.
"Wonderful. Then our early morning briefing with PR was good for something. You should be grateful last night's pictures won't make it out of the darkroom." 
Her voice, bitter and incisive, makes the hangover bubble up in your stomach. You and the tabloids weren't exactly on good terms, but it wasn't your fault so many people seemed to care about what you were wearing or who you were out with. 
"What did you want to meet about?" you ask, hoping to change the subject. 
You can't put your finger on it, but there's a cloying, heavy energy hanging on you. You feel as though you're on the precipice of something, although that could just be the consequences of all that Cristal ready to reintroduce themselves to your digestive system. 
Your mother clears her throat. 
"We have arranged for you to marry someone." 
And all at once, it seems as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's a sharp pain lodged somewhere between your chest, your stomach, and your unhappy liver. The larks sing emptily in the garden. 
"What?" Your voice sounds like it's unraveling somewhere in your throat. Quickly, frantically, you grasp at the faraway possibility that it can't possibly mean what you think it does. Marry? You can’t even remember the last time you thought of going on a second date with someone. Now you might actually throw up. 
"Prince Joshua, of the Hong family. The crown prince of–" 
"Acros. I know," you interrupt, the words jumping out of you in shock and anger. 
Of course you know who Joshua Hong is–Acros is a tiny, unremarkable country nestled into the border of your much bigger one, and Joshua their crown jewel. If you were the nation's problem, he was their darling. A bland thing to coo at when life got boring, the walking embodiment of a media training session. Smile and nod, smile and nod. He might as well be AI generated.
You wouldn't last a day with him. Not with your impatience, your opinions, or that loud mouth your parents always scold you for. Your mind swims with the mental image of the two of you on a gaudy parade float, doing that stupidly slow wave everyone seemed to insist on.
"Wonderful. So you'll pack a bag? The Hong family will be thrilled to meet you tomorrow," says your father.
"Why?" you ask. Your voice wobbles, treading over that childlike waver you never learned to control. "Is this to punish me?" 
"My dear, your brother will be ascending to the throne soon," your mother answers, looking you dead in the eyes. "It’s his face that needs to be on the front page, not you in another abomination of a swimsuit. The Hongs will keep enough of an eye on you.” 
She's right. She's always been right. Maybe not about the swimsuit, but you haven’t exactly been the PR princess your family needed you to be. If anything, you would think it made Jeonghan look better by comparison, but you know that your parents would prefer you to make appearances in something other than Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted. But the royal charade never fit you well either; it clings and sticks and bunches up at the seams like a cheap Halloween costume. 
"The Hongs thought their country would benefit from our money. It was an easy decision, really," your mother finishes, as if that makes you feel any less like a silly, bikini-clad pawn in a game of chess you never asked to play. 
"Does Jeonghan know?" 
"He sees its purpose,” your father says simply, like that was all that mattered. “You will too, in due time.”
He nods solemnly, which is how he closes every conversation–just another turn of the silent knife. As your parents turn to leave, their silken garbs trail behind them like ink in still water. Business as always, especially with you. 
"Your brother will be coming home from his press tour this week," your mother says on her way out. "You mustn't ruin this for him. The car leaves for Acros in the morning." 
There's a mean, barbed feeling in your heart. You don't know whether to scream or to cry, so you do what your mother taught you to do. You sit, stilled by a feeling of hopelessness, and let yourself be emptied. 
--
When you were thirteen, you learned how to ride a horse. 
Not the impractical, side-saddle way drilled into you when you were a little girl, with your skirt billowing over the fender and catching in the stirrups, but how to really ride a horse. 
It was on a night much like tonight–indigo and starless. Your brother had climbed up the marble trellis, his teenage, noodle body a perfect fit for scaling the lattice, and threw a stone at your window, just like you had seen in the movies. Jeonghan was still young, then, rebellious and unchanged by the throne. 
It was him who laced up your riding boots, hoisted you on your first horse, and pressed the reins into your palms. You remember the unforgiving hold of the leather saddle, not yet broken in. You were so sore the next day, you were bed-bound–truly a punishment worse than death, if not for another reminder that everything you do ends up hurting you a little. 
"It's great," Jeonghan had told you, breathless and haloed by the moonlight. "You can just ride. nowhere to go and no one to answer to." 
You had spent the summer this way. Every night, you learned the sound of the forest at twilight, chasing Jeonghan's mud-splattered palomino. In the mornings, breakfast consisted of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and whispering about whatever misadventure you had found yourselves tangled in the night before. 
That was before he had come of age. Before your father gave him the Throne Talk, and before he was whisked away into endless meetings and etiquette lessons and parliaments. Your inside jokes became foul, overripe in his newly coached mouth. He even learned to play golf, and he hated golf. 
Past August, you don't think you ever got your brother back.
You slide the oaken doors of the stables open, feeling your arms squeeze underneath your riding shirt. Here, it’s always quiet after sundown.
It hasn't changed since the day you first snuck in with Jeonghan. You let the green scent of the hay fill your lungs, the sleep-stir of the horses like music to your ears. Dokyeom has left the tack room open by "accident" once more, likely to avoid catching you picking the lock with a bobby pin like he had a few months ago. 
"Hey, you," you whisper, coming to the stall of your own horse. Astrid, a bay thoroughbred, was Jeonghan's gift to you on your 18th birthday, a wistful reminder of a summer now past its prime. "No surprise here, but I had a really, really bad day." 
Astrid, oblivious, noses at your palm in search of a nonexistent sugar cube. Somehow, this brings the anxious chatter of your mind to a crescendo—would Astrid come with you to Acros? When would that happen? More importantly, when were you moving? You think of a too-warm summer morning, the ridiculous, oversized brim of one of your mother's sunhats, and a moving truck. That, and a country ready to delete you from its ranks. 
It's now, with the bridle in your fists, that you hear the wheedling groan of the stable door as it slides open. Without thinking, you quickly push out the first excuse you have. "I apologize, I was—" 
"It's me." 
Jihoon. 
You would tease him about his fear of ponies—perhaps it's because he is quite literally the same size as them—but you think hearing another person tell you off would officially push you over the edge. You don't want to be dramatic, but you don't even know if Acros even had horses. 
That, and somehow he's both the first and the last person you want to see. The guilt feels a bit heavier when you know his life is about to change too, in no small part due to your own failings.
"Jihoon, I…" you start. There’s an apology that’s been sitting on your tongue, one you haven’t quite learned to spit up yet. You don’t know who it’s for—yourself, or everyone else—but Jihoon interrupts you before you can finish your thought. 
"You forgot your jacket," Jihoon replies. 
For once, you can't read him. You wonder if he's thinking about if he'd get along with the other bodyguards, but, more likely, he's probably pitying you. You're the last person in the world that should be in an arranged marriage, and even someone who kills people for a living could tell. 
"I'll be in the foyer." 
You don't exchange any more words. Jihoon knows that there is nothing he can say that will erase what's about to happen, and like always, he is right.
After you saddle up, Astrid takes you to the forest like usual. Honestly, you've lost count of the times you've come out here to cry, usually about a boy you don’t even like, or, worse, Jeonghan declining your weekly Facetime session again. But now, you think you both know this time is very different. 
"Astrid," you groan. "Joshua looks like a Ken doll from hell. He probably pronounces tomato like tomahto and has a closet dedicated to his tweed collection. I can't marry him." 
Astrid is none the wiser. You wish she was human for a moment so you could show her the crater-sized hole that "prince joshua google images" left in your browser history. 
"Do you think he only listens to classical music? I think a Kim Petras song would kill him instantaneously." 
The mental image of Joshua Hong being struck down by the first ten seconds of Throat Goat makes you laugh, but you still don't feel far away enough from the truth.
You remember your 21st birthday, a balmy spring Friday. Jeonghan had been helping out at the local youth theater, and the opening night of their production was coincidentally the same day. Jeonghan had never been one for theater (last time, he had fallen asleep during Mamma Mia, of all musicals). You knew the press turnout was expected to be huge, but the whole thing felt like one big charade to you. 
So you had planned your big birthday bash—you only get one 21st, after all—that day. The paparazzi fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Unsurprisingly, drunk, hot girls made for a better story than Greek theater. 
You remember the raw, stinging look Jeonghan had in his eyes the next morning. He didn't even have to say anything, but you knew. The memory carves out an abyss in your chest. You knew you should have done better for your brother, but he didn’t even feel like your brother anymore. 
Still, actions have consequences, and this was a hell of a consequence. Even out here, the inconvenient reality of it seems closer than ever. but you're out of time. The night fades fast, especially ones like these. 
So you press your heart to Astrid's mane, the pale moon high over the both of you, and you ride. 
--
Late spring is kind to Acros. 
The tulips push their bright heads out of the dirt, winking and blazing in the daylight, and the green fields stretch so far they look like water. 
You had spent the car ride with your nose pressed to the window, watching all the sun-bleached buildings zip by. You mustn't ruin this for Jeonghan. It spins around in your head like an old pair of shoes in a washing machine. 
Now you stand in the grand foyer, your parents on either side of you. Jihoon hovers behind, holding the overstuffed duffel bag you had rushed to pack this morning. 
A hushed arrival such as this was unbecoming of your family, but it was necessary. your parents had stressed that the arranged part of the deal was not meant to be public knowledge because it was bad for optics. To you, the arrangement was actually the entire deal. That, and you and optics never exactly got along. 
Waiting for Joshua and his parents gives you a moment to observe what could be your new home, although you’re still waiting for the miraculous plot twist that will save you from your fate. 
That being said: you’ve set foot in plenty of nice places, but if HGTV ran segments for castles, this would certainly be the blueprint. It’s smaller than the palace in Cotria, but you like that—it’s cozier, less cold-seeming. 
The filigreed ceilings vault dizzyingly high, and the chandelier above the muraled walls is set afire with the noontime sun. the blushing azaleas cascade from their pots, and they line the hallways with joyous pops of white and pink. breaking the spell is the distant staccato of several sets of footsteps on marble, and you straighten your back, as if by divine command. 
Three figures approach you: Joshua and his parents. Even from a distance, you can see the trained walk of royalty, their shoulders straight enough to hold water. You’ll give credit where credit is due—they look even less thrilled to meet you than you are to meet them.
Unfortunately, up close, Joshua is more handsome than the cameras would betray. He's taller than you had imagined, too. without trying, it looks like he jumped out of a shitty Disney movie, one where the prince says two words and still gets the girl. More than that, you notice how his face is like glass—unwavering, cruelly still. One wrong move, and you'd break him. 
"Your highnesses," you say, lowering your head in a pronounced curtesy. 
Joshua bows in response, like clockwork. He reaches for your hand, then brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. 
At once, you feel your hackles jump up, even though many a man has done far nastier to you. You can’t tell what pisses you off more: a, the fact that he smells like a hotel lobby, or b, that he managed to get his mouth on you in less than five seconds. 
"I'm elated we have the privilege of welcoming your daughter into our home," Joshua's mother says. Like him, she is staggeringly elegant and even harder to read. "She's beautiful." 
Fortunately, she has picked the one compliment that your parents can agree on without lying through their teeth. You watch them laugh and titter amongst themselves, and it's now that you notice Joshua has been looking at you this whole time.
You think look is too kind of a word, though. It's something colder than that, more clinical, and you really don't like it. Your stylist had spent upwards of two hours today in front of your vanity this morning, mostly in a losing battle with a pair of fake lashes, and you wonder if one of them is crooked. That, or Joshua is similarly wondering just how he will endure a life wedded to you. 
"Joshua, please," his mother chides, and you watch him almost immediately pivot towards her, like he’s on wheels. "Where are your manners? You should show the princess around. Get to know each other a bit before press tomorrow." 
Press. Of course. Your least favorite word. You vaguely remember your parents mentioning it in the car this morning, but it must have gotten lost among all the other terrible things they'd told you. 
Your head starts to hurt. Joshua keeps smiling at you, empty, doll-like.
"Yes, I'd love that," you say, feeling like a deflating balloon. You were hoping his company will be better than watching four grown adults fall all over each other, but you're starting to doubt that. 
Joshua offers you his arm, and you take it anyway. 
"We'll be off then," he chirps before bowing once more. His freakishly shiny shoe nudges yours to remind you to do the same. Begrudgingly, you listen, watching your shellacked, angry expression in the patina of his loafers. 
Not a good start, but what did you expect?
You tamp down your irritation and let him lead you into the Great Hall. It's a shiny, golden tunnel, studded with glossy oil paintings of his parents, his grandparents, then the next set of old people before them. Their eyes stare at you, pools of hazy paint in their moon faces. You briefly imagine your painting up there, with Joshua's hand hovering meekly over your waist, unused to being more than two feet away from a woman his age.
"It's nice to finally meet you," Joshua says. "I think I've only seen you in pictures." 
He's referencing the one of many “encounters” you've had with the paparazzi, a la yesterday night. They take trashy photos, overexposed and grainy from the camera flash, with your ass most likely in the frame. 
You choose to let it slide—you have no choice, really. At least you have an ass. 
"The pleasure is mine," you reply. "I believe you were at the cricket championships a few months ago, right?" 
"Correct. Do you watch? I don't believe I saw you." 
"No, but my brother was there." Your footsteps echo against the marbled walls. "Just trying to think of your last public appearance," you offer unhelpfully, since you and he both know those are few and far between. 
"That's right. He mentioned you were busy," Joshua replies. "Glastonbury was that weekend, was it not?" 
He's right. It was, but you don't like the insinuation he's making. You weren't at Glastonbury anyway—your parents wouldn't let you attend, and Jihoon was unwilling to come up with a cover story for you. Because you would rather watch paint dry than attend another cricket game, you instead spent it with takeout and reruns of Rupaul's Drag Race. 
"Can't recall," you answer. "Doesn't matter. I'm not one for cricket, anyway."
"Didn't know you had a choice."
You watch Joshua halfheartedly gesture to the Great Hall. The seemingly mile-long dinner table is empty now, save for a gratuitously piled fruit bowl. 
Your country frequently hosts guests, but the Hongs are notoriously insular. You imagine the four of you, crammed together at one end of the table, making horrendous small talk every morning over wilted danishes and raspberry preserves. Somehow, your mood worsens even more than you thought possible.
"Can I see the library?" you ask in an attempt to pivot. 
"Of course. Do you enjoy reading?" 
"A normal amount." You pass by another set of windows and take note of the rose garden outside, verdant with the May sunshine. Astrid has a bit of a penchant for eating roses, which would definitely complicate your plan to smuggle her in. No matter—you’ve done worse. "I studied political science at university, so I got a healthy dose of it." 
"Didn't we all?" Joshua chuckles.
He pushes the door open to the library, which is just as lavish as the rest of the palace. You wonder how well-worn it is, how many spines have creases in them, how many dedications were speckled with a funny annotation or two. But judging by first impressions, you wouldn't be surprised if all the books still had their dust jacket on. 
"I mean, I read an insane amount of Dan Brown," you reply. "Not many of us can say we've solved the Davinci code, you know." 
You hoped this would crack a laugh out of him, but his grin is thinner than an eyebrow from the 2000s. Truthfully, you would compare this conversation to a death by a thousand papercuts, but somehow that feels preferable to the guillotine of discussing the terms and conditions of your rapidly impending marriage. You feel as though that would be violating some rule you aren't yet aware of, and you're unwilling to endure the patent leather consequences of another faux pas. 
"I've heard of it," says Joshua after much thought. "My parents were shuttling me between meetings and private lessons, so, unlike some, I was quite busy during university." 
You're not about to explain that you were equally as busy as him. Something tells you that he'd be too prideful to believe you anyway. 
"How difficult. Surely you were able to have some fun," you say, your voice betraying your distaste. "Or were you too good for that?" 
Too far. 
"I did what my position allowed," is Joshua's terse reply, and you know you've crossed a line. Still, it dazes you that the man standing next to you may have never done anything for himself in his life. Even Jeonghan did, before your parents really tightened the reins. 
The air buzzes with a silence sharp enough to make you bleed. You wish literally anyone else was standing next to you, but you realize there are no more horses or emergency cabs or Jihoons to rescue you from this one. 
"How about I take you to our room? I hope you'll find it comfortable." 
You glance to your right to catch a glimpse of Joshua. He smiles, a dutiful press of the lips, and you watch it ripple.
--
"Jihoon, it is so much worse than I thought." 
You sit on the plush carpeting of your bedroom floor, amongst your small disaster of things. Jihoon examines you, one eyebrow raised, as he leans against the bedroom door. 
"He's not around, right?" 
Jihoon shakes his head.
"I don't get it," you sigh. "I go out. I get drunk. I have a little fun on the weekends. I don't see how any of this makes me a bad person." 
"You know how traditional your families are." Jihoon bends down to pick up a hair bow that jumped ship from the vanity. "It's just how it is." 
"He treats me like some high school delinquent. I tried, but he has no sense of humor. No joi de vivre. I think he would actually explode if he knew I went out two days ago." 
"Give it time," Jihoon supplies unhelpfully. "I don't know French, but he can't be that bad. You just met him." 
“Yeah. Usually that’s a good thing. I’ve fucked people i know less about.” 
Jihoon shakes his head and laughs, one of those little cackly ones he reserves for your company. 
"Well, you have been with worse," he tuts. "Definitely worse." 
"Jihoon, be serious. This is the rest of my life we're talking about." 
“I know." He draws his lips into a line, likely searching for the right thing to say. "This sucks. I wouldn't be good at this either." 
"You're talking to me. I don't think there's a single royal thing I can do right."
He's out of words, so he bends down to awkwardly pat you on the head, which, in all your years of knowing him, is the most affection he can muster. This is why you prefer horses to Jihoon for therapy, although you appreciate the effort. 
"I'd stay, but they want me to go to some meeting," he says, jerking his thumb towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow." 
So he leaves you, desolate and linen-covered. Back to square one. 
The room seems to echo with how empty it feels. The bare walls are painted champagne, a rich, indifferent color. They soar to an arched ceiling lined with baroque crown moulding. There's a large window facing the garden, framed by deep green velvet. Atop the vanity cradled to the wall, the ivy of the wrought mirror curls at the edges, as if escaping. The chandelier hangs low, fat and pear-shaped, and its crystals douse the room in gauzy lamplight.
At least the canopy bed looks comfortable. It's the one thing keeping you from calling this place a veritable jail cell, which still seems like an understatement. For once, you miss your own bedroom. Granted, it didn’t look much different on the surface. but despite all the paneling and the heavy velvet, you still like to think it had some personality. You still keep your pillow pet on your bed (a horse named Robert). The back wall is chipped from a Gossip Girl poster your mom made you take down.  
Before you’re able to get too sentimental, the unwelcome sight of your future husband steals you from your thoughts. 
"Evening," Joshua says, stepping into the room. He's so quiet, it takes you aback. "Still unpacking?" 
"Sorry." You gesture around you. "I underestimated my ability to overpack."
"You should have told the staff," he says, surveying the damage. "Do you need help?" 
"No," you insist. Somehow the prospect of him getting on the ground to sort out all of your things upsets you, even more than him touching all of your unmentionables. "No. Please. Just ignore me."
"Alright." 
Joshua seems to take no issue with that, gratefully. He takes a seat on the chaise at the foot of the bed. He's got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don't blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable. 
"PR event tomorrow," you start, folding up a nightdress. "Bet you're excited for that." 
“As excited as one can be before announcing their arranged marriage," he replies dryly. "But surely you have enough experience with the press for the both of us." 
So that’s how he wanted to play. Fine. You wouldn’t let him walk all over you a second time. 
"Well, I'd hope all those classes you took would be good for something."
"That's rich, coming from the case study on bad media training." 
"Oh, please," you snap. "At least I know how to have a good time." 
"I was having a great time before I was informed this was happening." 
"Forgive me. I had no idea you were so invested in my personal life." You huff as you heave an oversized armful of clothes to the closet. “Think TMZ has any job openings?” 
"Very funny," he retorts. Joshua holds up a skimpy black dress that's fallen from your pile, one well acquainted with the midnight grease of one too many nightclubs. "You dropped this, by the way. I don't really think the nightlife here will be quite to your taste, though." 
"Oh right, because this is where happiness goes to die, huh?" You snatch it back from him, feeling the knot of anger in your gut flare. 
The room seems to pulse with an uncomfortable silence, red-hot with unsaid words. You recognize the all too familiar way Joshua sets his jaw back, and you're transported all the way to the study in the east wing, snoutless lion, terracotta steps, and all. He’s not any different from anyone else, so you’re not sure why you expected anything else. 
You do the only thing you can do—bite your tongue. 
"Look," you finally say, gathering the wherewithal to call for a truce. "I know that we didn't ask for this." 
Joshua laughs. Actually, it's the first time you've heard it since you've met, and it would be an otherwise tolerable, even nice, sound if it wasn't directed right at you.
"Right, because who doesn't want to have to babysit someone for the rest of their life?" 
You take a hard swallow.  You've both done enough damage for tonight, although you'd love to see his expression when you call him the live-action version of Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Maybe another time. 
Instead you think of Jeonghan, stuck in his meetings and sunk into this new, starched form of himself that you find difficult to recognize. Still, he's your brother, and you'd hate to see him suffer for it. 
"Stop. I'll be good," you say. "I promise. I know there's a lot at stake for the both of us." 
You can hear Joshua's long, drawn exhale. The furrow dug between his brows flattens out, and he seems to be reminded of everything they taught you both in Conflict Resolution 101. 
"I apologize. I got out of line," he says. You watch the cogs turn on that unfortunately pretty face of his. You hope he finally reveals that he has a much better, kinder personality that he was waiting to debut, but he doesn't. Instead he picks up yet another fallen item from your stash and hands it to you (this time, a much more presentable blouse). 
"I know we don't like each other—" You hold up a hand to interrupt him from lying to you. “—but we can do our best for the cameras. Because that matters. Hate me all you want in private." 
"Okay." He gives you a defeated look, which is all you suppose you'll get out of him today. "Deal." 
That night, there are no more backhanded compliments, quips, or mean-spirited attempts at sarcasm. 
You sink into your side of the bed, a damask-woven vat of quicksand, and watch the spears of light dance on the ceiling. If you had known your last outing was the one a few days ago, maybe you would have drank a little more, stayed out later. Maybe you wouldn't have even gone home. 
Joshua has been reading on the other side of the bed, which seems like oceans apart. The metronomic turn of his pages would have put you to sleep if it wasn't for this new fear, a black, trembling one, that's now taken residence in your chest. It feels like you are further from yourself than you've ever been, and you don't know how to get back. 
"Is it too bright for you?" Joshua's voice, now tempered by the stillness of the evening, pulls you out of your thoughts. "I can turn the lamp off." 
"It's ok," you groan. "Can't really sleep. Don't worry about it." 
He doesn't say anything. Instead you hear the oiled pull of the bedside nightstand before he places something on the bed beside you.
It's a book. Specifically, one of those trashy romances that they only sell at the airport because no one would be brave enough to read them anywhere else.
"It's no Dan Brown," he says. "Hopefully still to your liking." 
You sit up against the headboard and flip through the pages. The prince of Acros owning a book with the words "juicy", "mewling", and "best friend's brother" in the first fifty pages are enough to tide you over for the night. Probably the next week, to be honest.
"Yes, indeed, your highness. Of the raunchy summer fling." 
Joshua smiles, and this time, you think it's a real one. 
--
You hate mornings. 
You thought this one would be different, probably due to the fact that you would soon be standing in front of a few too many cameras to announce your tragic fate to the entire world. Unfortunately, it's like all your other mornings—rushed, nauseous, and now with all the added anxiety of a semi-non consensual public appearance. 
"Five minutes!" you holler as best you can, a hair pin wiggling in the corner of your mouth. Rule number one of a hard launch: don't be caught looking complacent. Even if the other half of the launch would rather be with anyone other than you. 
Joshua's in the attached bathroom doing his hair. Like everything else he does, it is painfully calculated. He might be the only person in the world who takes "pea-sized" seriously as a measurement tool. 
But even as he so carefully measures his pomade, pump by pump, you don't miss the way his eyes skim over your figure as you lean over the vanity chair to apply your lipstick. Maybe it's because your ass is practically vacuum sealed into your sundress, or maybe he's just looking for another fight to pick. Either way, there's a small part of you that takes pride in this, even if just a little. 
"Ready?" Joshua asks, switching off the bathroom light. You hate to admit it, but he looks good in a sports jacket. You remind yourself that you had to literally rock-paper-scissors this morning to use the vanity mirror because you fogged the bathroom up after your shower. "It's not a pageant." 
"Shush. You are so rude. Never interrupt a girl when she's getting ready." 
In the mirror, you watch Joshua huff behind you. Then he procures a little black box from his pocket, and a crazy sort of feeling washes over you before you remind yourself to be normal. Ten-year-old you would have cried and threatened arson if she knew this is how you would eventually be proposed to, but you have no choice. 
You're sure Joshua feels the same. He was probably hoping for something classic with all the works, and instead he's got a pissed-off Jihoon and you, internationally renowned harlot. Funny how things turn out.
"Any minute now," bitches Jihoon from the other side of the door. 
You close your compact and turn around to face Joshua, who's still fumbling with the box.
"I'm sure this is not what you anticipated," he says, finally cracking it open. “But—" 
"No speech. Just put it on." You stick your left hand out, still glittery from last week’s manicure. "Not like it means much anyway." 
"Yeah."
And just like that, it is done. You feel the shock of Joshua's huge hands over yours, then the unceremonious bite of the cold band. He doesn't linger. 
You hold your newly engaged hand in front of you. The ring must have looked better in the box—on you, it seems out of place, gaudy, yet another thing you can't quite fit into. It squeezes your finger a bit, but it'll do. 
"Ready?" he asks. 
"Let's get this over with."
If romance wasn’t already dead, then it died here, today, in your prison cell bedroom. 
You have no time to lament this, as Joshua’s already half out the door. Quickly, he seems to shed his foul, argumentative inside personality and slip into a second-skin, one that is more poised, gracious, and luminous.
Today's objective is supposed to be simple: friendly, premarital pictures to accompany a written statement to the public announcing your engagement. No paparazzi, no journalists. Still, you're starting to see why your parents decided it was a good idea to stick you with this guy. 
In the foyer, your families await you. It's as if their gaze can slow time—at least four people approved your outfit, and still, the weight of their eyes on you, ever appraising, is crushing. Immediately, your mother starts rearranging the strands of hair on the top of your head and fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, like you're some sort of doll. 
"Come, come," a member of the PR team urges. "Everything is set up. We'll be quick." 
There's a frenetic, tense energy over the palace. It's clear that this marriage is a gambit no one is happy with, and today would make it very, very real. 
Outside, there is a lone photographer. The sun, morning-ripe, reflects off his camera lens like a third eye. The lawn, freakishly green, sprawls out around you, and the blue spruce frames the scene, perfect by design. 
"I just need you to stand next to each other and smile," he says. "That's all, right?" he directs this towards your PR team, about seven too many for a task like this. One of them whispers something in his ear. Your parents watch from the shaded doorstep like wax figures in a museum. 
You and Joshua stand shoulder to shoulder, yearbook photo style. 
"Bit closer," the photographer calls out, and you smush yourself against his arm, close enough that you can appreciate he's got some muscle on him. "Alright. Hold still." 
Click. You've always hated the flash, but you root yourself obediently to the concrete. Your cheeks hurt from smiling. Click. 
Your mother interrupts her conversation with a staff member—likely haggling over the minutia of the statement—and says, "Look happier," as if you're in some dystopian advertisement for a new car. 
"She's talking to you," Joshua says through the grit of his fake, pink smile. 
"Right, because you're such a peach." 
You just want to go back inside and have breakfast. 
You place a tentative hand on Joshua's bicep and turn to him, beaming like you would at a hot bartender when there are five other people waiting for a drink. 
There's a glimmer of surprise in his expression before he matches you. You can see why people dote on him so much—his cheeks get round, and his eyes magically gain the sparkles that people pay for on Facetune. God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him. 
"Move your hand up so we can see the ring." You obey, feeling the firm cord of his arm underneath you, and you wonder where the gym is in the palace. Joshua was certainly gatekeeping it from you. "Perfect." 
You stand there, living your America's Next Top Model nightmare, before the photographer hits you with, "A kiss for the camera, yeah?" 
All the blood drains from your face. You think you actually say Huh? aloud. Joshua opts to turn to his parents to intervene, which would be funny in literally any other scenario except this one. 
"You heard him," his father replies. "Act like you're actually engaged." 
Honestly, it was a fair request. No one wanted to take any chances. Plausible rumors of an arranged marriage would backfire spectacularly. Jeonghan wouldn't see the front cover of anything ever again, and the entirety of Acros would wonder just how deep in the shitter they were that Joshua was forced to marry you. 
Your parents were already so far into the conspiracy, you overheard them talking about using unpublished paparazzi pictures and rebranding them as times you snuck off to see your unfortunate lover. Point taken. 
"Okay, okay," you laugh nervously. "Of course." 
You face Joshua, steeling yourself, and lean in. The world seems to fall away, but not how you like—it feels as though you've been sucked out of your own body and dropped into a new one that doesn't know what a kiss is or how to do it. 
He's just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You're at the club. They're playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada. 
Soon all you know is the heat of your cheeks, the shaking flat of your palm over Joshua's shoulder, and the wet pressure of what feels like a pair of lips, soft but also very unwilling. 
Click. Click. Then it's over. Everyone huddles around the camera, like animals to a watering hole. Shame, hot and heavy, seems to drape itself over you. 
"Can we get one more?" the photographer asks.
Fuck. Your stomach drops. You can't even glare at Joshua. 
"Sure thing," Joshua says easily, unaware he was the reason it went so badly in the first place. 
You take a deep breath. You imagine a good Kylie Minogue song and a tall stranger with pecs that could fit into a bra, and your eyes flutter shut. 
You decide to go for it this time. Unfortunately, you and your inept partner are on entirely opposite pages again, and you almost miss each other by a mile. When you do get it right, it's messy, two teenagers fumbling in a closet with the lights off. 
Once everyone sees this massacre, it seems they resign themselves to the same conclusion you had long ago. Someone throws a thumbs up above their head, and everyone clears out so fast, it's like nothing ever happened. 
Soon, it's just you, Joshua, and your mother with a red pen and the manuscript. Your heart is still buzzing in your chest, even though you and Joshua are now standing at a distance that makes you believe in the cheese touch again. 
"Now that wasn’t so bad," she says, before escorting the two of you back inside. Perhaps lying cushions the blow of a bad decision, but you're already in too deep. The script, the cameras, even your mother's glossy words—your life is starting to feel like a permanent movie set, and you don't know how to clock out. 
The first thing you do is take off the ring. It's starting to look more and more like costume jewelry on your untrained, bumbling hand. Even still, you can still feel its ghost on your finger, see the glare of the camera flash in the laser-cut facets. 
Worse, you watch Joshua shrug off his sport jacket, likely wondering how exactly that went so wrong, and you can feel that same sensation, still warm, right over your lips.
--
"Save me, red wine, save me." 
Home, sweet home. You're back in Cotria for the rest of the week. This morning's stint was the only thing you had on the schedule, and you told Joshua you had some business to attend to at home. 
Said business was a Niçoise salad and half a bottle of wine, but no one had to know that part. Your struggle meals were your own business, and you think you will actually disintegrate on the spot if you have to sit through another conversation about World War II with Joshua's dad. The one you had at dinner last night was plenty. 
The restaurant you’re at is a familiar haunt, but not too familiar. The ass-kissers and the groupies have gotten good at keeping their heads on a swivel, and you’re not exactly planning on another encounter with a camera. But here, the crowd is quiet enough, the food good enough, the service fast enough. It’s enough, which you’ve come to prefer. 
That's the other thing about Cotria—there’s an overabundance of everything. Department stores, parlors, dog cafes, polished bars with overpriced cocktails. It’s almost a rarity to find a place like this, quiet enough to actually talk. 
"You must be in the fucking trenches," Somi says, shaking her head. "When's the press release getting published?"
"Next week," you groan. "The good news is that they want us to go to the derby afterward."
"Okay, miss horse girl," Somi says, clinking her wine glass against yours. "You betting this year?" 
"No, I shouldn't." You shovel another forkful of leaves into your mouth. "But I really hope I get to watch it instead of pretending to like a guy the whole time." 
"I didn't see you pretending in uni," Somi says, cocking an eyebrow up at you. "And those guys are ugly. This guy isn't." 
"Okay, wait," you protest. "Ugly cute. Don't get it twisted. And they don't act like sentient wet paint. This guy sucks." 
You're reminded of the moment before you left the palace this morning. Joshua saw that same black dress that he used against you make its way into your bag, and he gave you the dirtiest stink eye you'd ever seen. 
I'm not above tattling. They were the first words he'd said to you after The Incident. 
Good thing you won't have to, you replied. He didn't even see you out because no one was standing around to clap him on the back for being a good fake fiancé. 
"Whatever." Somi picks a tomato off your plate in exchange for some of her fries. "I wouldn't mind it, is what I'm saying." 
"You slept with the bouncer to get into Annabel’s." 
"Fuck off. He was actually really good. Club entry was just a bonus," she laughs. "That reminds me—you're coming to my birthday, right? Or do you have wifely duties now?" 
"Of course I'm coming!" you insist, feeling the word duty hit like an actual bullet to your chest. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 
"Just making sure! You know I gotta have my people around." 
You had known Somi since you were in diapers. She's the cousin twice removed of a baron, or a count, or maybe even a viscount–you never were good at keeping track of those kinds of things. Even though you had seen her at countless brunches, coronations, and garden parties, you don't think you actually became friends until you ran into her at a college party in Mykonos. She sidled up to you, smelling like strawberries and the bleachy sting of hair dye, and handed you a cucumber margarita. 
The beer here sucks, she had whisper-shouted to you, right over the shell of your ear. Wanna dance? You were inseparable ever since. 
"It's going to be huge. There are, like, 200 people on the guest list right now. Soonyoung rented a villa, There's gonna be a champagne tower, and the music won't suck. Guaranteed." 
"That sounds perfect," you sigh. "Please tell me there's gonna be a pool. I need to show off my new swimsuit." 
"Duh." Somi rolls her eyes, glittery under her extensions. "The perfect opportunity to show the world that their hottest bachelorette is a bachelorette no longer. Also, we invited Pitbull.” 
“Shut the fuck up. Wait, is he actually coming?” 
”Dunno. Wouldn’t be very Mr. Worldwide of him to flake, though.” 
Pitbull or not, you think of the heat of the strobe lights, the electric trill of the too-loud speakers. You're dancing in a dress that looks like a chunk of the moon, with the little neon ties of your bikini top peeking out the sides. There's a peach highball in your hands and no one is telling you what to do, how to do it, or that you're doing it wrong. 
Then you think of Joshua. Maybe he'd loosen up after a few drinks. Maybe he'd dance with you, put those hands to use on your hips and kiss you like he should have earlier today. Maybe he'd even be good at it. The thought makes your cheeks sting.
“Should I invite Joshua?” Somi says, wrinkling her nose at how you immediately grimace. “What if he’s actually a blast?” 
"No! No. Absolutely not." 
“What if he’s—” Then she drops her singsong voice to a whisper. “Hung? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those pictures of him in the Galapagos.” 
Unfortunately, you have. A lurid, glassy image of your soon-to-be-husband in a sleazy pair of swim trunks comes into vision. You push past the smile, the unfair pecs, and remind yourself of that horrible, self-righteous twist of the lips that he always has. 
Yes, that’s right. That’s the Joshua you know. 
You grab the wine from her and drink it right from the bottle. 
Of course it had to be the one time you’re not late to an event that you forget you had swapped everything in all your purses around. You double check your bag—empty. 
You’re already down by half of your worldly possessions (still at home, your real home), and you probably left the other half on Joshua’s bathroom counter. Yesterday, you got derailed mid-task by Joshua lighting the grossest candle ever. You never thought you’d ever fight over candles of all things, but you couldn’t let him walk away from that conversation thinking wet dirt was a normal, socially acceptable, scent for a bedroom. (—It said moss on the label! —So, dirt. —Moss is not dirt. Maybe you need to go back to school.) 
You fling open the bathroom door, still checking the pockets of your handbag, before you collide into a big, sopping wet wall. 
“What the—?” You look up. The wall is not a wall. No, in fact, it is your fiancé, bare fucking naked. 
Your heart jumps up to your throat. It feels like you walked right into a porno, and you can hear Somi’s self-satisfied, witch cackle right in your ear. His dark hair seems to fall into his eyes just right, a nice change from how he normally gels it up, and you watch the beads of water from the shower, torturously glittery, run down his jaw, the hollow of his neck, right onto his chest. 
Men should not be allowed to have bigger boobs than you, at least, not dowdy Joshua Hong, who normally has the sex appeal of an eraser. And God forbid your eyes travel downward and confirm Somi’s sick and twisted hypothesis, past the washboard abs, the v-line, the trail down his— 
“Sorry, did you need something?” You blink again and Joshua suddenly has a towel wrapped around his waist. And he’s eyeing you like you ate a million cloves of garlic and then proceeded to spit on him. “Or are you just going to stand here and ogle me?” 
“I wasn't—no!” You start snatching things off the counter, anything really, and throwing them into your bag. “I just needed to grab stuff for my… my thing. You’re in the way.” 
“Right, because you need four q-tips and my razor to read a children’s book,” Joshua replies, plucking the offending items out of your purse. “It's almost 12:30, by the way.” 
“Shit. Fuck,” you stammer. You can’t glare at him anymore because you know where your eyes will end up and it is not on his face. “Stop distracting me. Whatever.” 
“Have fun,” is the last thing Joshua tells you before you close the bathroom door, that portal to hell, right back up. 
What you can’t do is return the image of what you saw back to where it came from, the wicked, glistening form of Joshua and his B cup tits. He looked so good, it makes you angry. 
Later, on the walk to the library, you reach for your lip gloss. Instead, you pull out q-tip number five and get mad all over again. 
The car ride to the derby feels like your own personal Saw trap, if Jigsaw wore a ridiculous hat and was actually your mother. 
Your engagement was announced to the public just a few days ago. It came with no fanfare, no warning. You were sitting on your bed, making your way through the smut Joshua called a novel, when the news app on your phone kindly notified you that you were now a taken woman. 
To some degree, the media uproar fascinated you. The idea that people with actual journalism degrees were writing headcanons about your honeymoon when you hadn’t even seen Joshua since The Bathroom Incident was surely entertaining, to say the least. But, like everything, the unsaid pressure of being a perfect princess, now part of an even more perfect couple, hangs heavy over you. 
You remind yourself this is supposed to be fun. A real couple would be pawing at each other in the backseat, perhaps pregaming with champagne or fan-casting their pick for Spirit the horse. Instead, you’re stuck rehearsing your pitch to the reporters when they inevitably ask you about how the hell this happened. You wish you could tell them you’re not quite sure either. 
Silently, you look at Joshua. Joshua looks out the window. The world rumbles under you. 
[10:15 am, race 1]
The air seizes, swirls with clay-colored dust in the morning sun. The clubhouse is already heady with the low buzz of conversation—you watch the freckled sunhats and oily toupees bob up and down in the swell of the crowd, deep in the morning’s small talk. You wonder how many of them are talking about you, given how recently the news hit. You’re used to people ignoring your media appearances, not celebrating them. 
Someone, tipping their head down to greet you, hands you a program. Joshua elects to tuck his in his back pocket. People don’t come to the derby to watch the races. Instead, it’s an excuse to gossip, day drink, and gamble, which would ordinarily be a good time for you if you weren’t overly invested in the racing circuit. 
All the way from the entrance to your seats, you were met with a tidal wave of camera flashes, all hungry for a glimpse of your first public appearance as a couple. Alongside this, a decidedly worse flurry of congratulations paired with an overly familiar touch to the shoulder or a limp handshake. Joshua is quick to respond with either a smile or some trite platitude. Your least favorite: We couldn’t be happier. Now he’s just lying for sport. 
“We should find the reporters doing interviews,” Joshua says the second his ass touches the chair, unfazed by the onslaught of perhaps a million different people. “The Sun probably wants to talk to us.” 
You’re not listening—you can’t let on that this whole ordeal is mildly terrifying for you. He has enough reasons to dislike you, and stage fright wouldn’t exactly be a good addition to the list. 
The racehorses have lined up at the track, their manes catching the daylight like holy fire. You like the one on the end. He looks like Peanut, Jeonghan’s stubborn palomino. 
Joshua says your name insistently, curdled with the annoyance that you’ve now become acquainted with, and you catch a stray camera flash from the stands. You have an audience, and the audience demands a show, even if they’re second-rate journalists like the scum from The Sun.  
“Darling,” you reply flatly. “Relax. Let's enjoy the races.” 
The horses stretch their long legs, anxious for the thunderclap of the starter’s pistol. Joshua raises a tired eyebrow before the same realization dawns on him. 
“Absolutely.” He clears his throat. “Darling.” 
You wrap a hand around his arm—somehow he makes hand-holding seem like third base—and watch his shoulders sink with a sigh, like you just popped him. 
Likewise, your highness. Likewise. 
A shot crackles through the air, and you’re off to the races. 
[12:43 pm, race 2.]
"I just have to know—how did you guys meet?" 
You know the duchess of Pemarlia to be beautiful and unashamedly nosy, and she has yet to prove you wrong on either account. 
The last time you saw her was on the beach at Lake Como last year, where she spent the entirety of your conversation asking if Jeonghan was single (and peeking into your bag to see what brand of lipstick you were wearing). Like everyone, she always seems to have a look of appraisal on her face. What makes her different is that she never really bothers to hide it; instead, she wears it like an en-vogue accessory. 
She eyes you with an intensity, sizing up your dress, your tawdry sunhat, your ring. You wonder if she’d agree that marriage didn’t look good on you, but any shorter of a dress, your mother would call you a stripper. And God forbid you leave the house hat-less. 
Now she’s no minotaur. This shouldn’t be much of a problem, save for one very small issue: you actually hadn’t planned your answer to this. You had quibbled over it briefly in the car, but you were too focused on your interview pitch to worry about minor gossip. 
"Well," Joshua starts. Through his smile, you can hear the warning edge of his voice. “It was quite ordinary.” 
"Actually," you cut him off. Not only would his version of this story be boring, it would also be horribly out-of-character for you. You did not come this far for your cover to be blown by Joshua’s lack of imagination. "Josh's parents hosted a—" 
"Brunch," Joshua finishes. Whether his teeth are gritted because he's grinning or frustrated is none of your business. “It was Easter brunch, wasn’t it, sweet pea? Four years ago?” 
The pet name makes you want to puke. Now he’s just trying to piss you off, but you know this is his attempt to play along. He's annoying, not dumb. 
"Yes, we sat across from each other.” You playfully dig your elbow into Joshua’s rock-hard side. “He was giving me the eyes the whole time.” 
You watch your hapless victim giggle, her spidery lashes wide with intrigue. Joshua is a little less pleased. 
“If you could call it that,” he replies. “I think you had chocolate on your nose.”
“Which you so kindly wiped off for me, dear.” You try to peek around the flaxen billows of the duchess’s blowout to watch the horses behind her, but to no avail. “After a morning of staring, we had to do an Easter egg hunt, planned by Joshie himself. I had no idea he loved silly little games like that.” 
“It's because people like the princess get so competitive,” Joshua says, with his laser beam grin boring into your eye sockets. “I believe I found you rummaging through the trash for eggs, like some kind of animal.” 
“Oh my goodness,” the duchess laughs. “How...charming.”  
You feel your eyebrow twitch. Only you’re allowed to ruin your own reputation, but you suppose that’s just another thing your horrible fake fiance gets to take from you. 
“Not as embarrassing as seeing Joshua leer at me from behind the corner,” you retort. “He was so enamored that when I invited him to join me, he got right down on his knees to look through the trash together.” 
“Well, did you find anything?” 
“Yes—”
“No—”
“Well—”
Fuck. Luckily, the duchess is either stupid or wildly entertained by the clown show playing out before her. Maybe both. 
“Cute,” she coos. “You must have been too smitten to notice.” 
“Absolutely,” Joshua says, as if there is a gun held to his pretty head. “Among all the garbage and the girl next to me, I suppose nothing else really mattered.” 
“If that isn’t love, what is?” she asks blithely. 
If only she knew. 
[3:45 pm, race 3]
The sun descends on the stadium, swollen and yellow with the afternoon. 
Last year, you and your friends had a betting ring set up during the racing circuit. Obviously, you had won—not too hard when your competition included Soonyoung, who only bet on horses named after food (sadly, it was not Tater Tot’s year). Somi was no better, and your brother thought every horse deserved a participation award.
This time around, things aren’t so simple. But you’d hate to say that you spent a whole day at the track and didn’t bet on a single race. Life could afford you at least one win for today. 
Again, the horses take their positions at the starting line, wound up like a line of rubber bands. The air heaves with bated breath. 
“Joshua,” you say, folding your hands in your lap as you find your target. “I'd like to propose a bet.” 
“You must be a glutton for punishment.” 
You bite back a laugh as you watch your favorite horse, the palomino, ripple in place. Fans would call her a charity case, but you know better. 
“Pick a horse. Mine is number Three, in the blue.” 
“And if mine wins? What’s in it for me?” he asks. Still, he leans forward, corded forearms on his thighs. You watch him squint as he surveys the field with renewed interest. 
“You pick,” you reply. “Choose wisely. I personally cannot wait to call in a favor from you.” 
“The chestnut one. Number Nine.” So he is competitive. “And likewise. Perhaps I'll hold it over your head until the wedding.” 
Before you can reply, you hear the starting pistol rip clean into the air. The racehorses surge forward, as if a silken ribbon through air. 
“Nine makes sense for you,” you say, eyes fixed before you. “He's flashy, the crowd favorite. Spotless pedigree.” 
“I'm picking your punishment already.” 
“I didn't say he would win.” You feel the lilt of your voice rocking upward, the tremulous beat of your heart against your ribs. “You see, Three’s had a rough season. There she is, passing Four right now.” 
“Nine is still first, though.” 
“It’s not about that,” you reply. “She does this, she starts all the way out back and then flies up. No one suspects anything—it’s like she likes proving people wrong. The first couple races of the season, she was just stretching her legs; they were small, small fry. It’s this one that matters.” 
The saddles are just blurs on the track now. To the march of the hoofbeats, Three lunges past Five, Six. The crowd roars. 
“This will be her first win. I'm counting on it. She’s come really close before.” 
Joshua doesn’t reply. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze has shifted. You feel it land somewhere near you, but you’re too engrossed in the race to investigate further. Perhaps he’s admitted defeat preemptively, wisely so. 
“You know your stuff,” he murmurs, the clamor of the audience almost burying him. 
“How can I not?” Three coasts past One and Ten like she’s flying, until it’s just her and unlucky number Nine. “Oh my god. Go, go, go!” 
You and Joshua rise to your feet, as if drawn by a string, now wholly invested in the race. 
“Still beating you, you know.” 
“Not for long! Come on!” 
You watch your darling number Three, against all odds, pull past Joshua’s number Nine, burning a trail past the inevitable finish line. 
From somewhere inside you emerges a joy that you hadn’t felt since this whole ordeal started. You turn to Joshua and clasp his hands between yours, somehow less wooden now, and so, so human. The crowd cheers; they come alive. 
[4:50 pm, races 4 and 5. mainly, the reporter from the sun.] 
The smaller races take place shortly after the headliner, for better or for worse. This forces you to finally face the music—the music being a dull-eyed, greasy journalist ready to sink his teeth into the public’s new favorite topic. 
Joshua is a good sport about it, or at least, he’s good at pretending to be one. 
“It was great,” is his answer to a question you didn’t hear. You’re busy going over the parts of the script that you remember. Your media team spent the better part of the morning repeating it back to you, which was helpful until it wasn’t. You weren’t sure how to tell them you’ve actually never been good at speaking to the press, since you had spent the better half of your life doing the exact opposite. 
“And what did the princess think? It’s not often we catch you for an interview, you know.” 
The eye of the camera seems to pierce through you. You can see your shellacked figure, long and distorted, in the reflection. 
“I—um,” you swallow hard. God. Pull it together. You can already hear the lecture you’re going to get on the way home today. “Yeah, big day today.”
“She’s had to really rein in her excitement, you know,” Joshua adds, chuckling. 
Briefly, you feel his hand brush against yours. Ordinarily, you’d pass it off as a fluke, but you feel the steady, insistent warmth of his palm again, first, to the inside of your wrist, then lower still. Before you’re able to really process what’s happening, he then takes your hand in his all at once, as if to say, I’ve got this. I’ve got you. 
You figure he’s cashing in his favor early–he’d much rather leave you out to dry, let you flounder a bit so you learn to read the PR memorandums the night before. I told you so, he’d say. That’s what everyone else would say, anyway. 
“The races are sure exciting, but I'm sure you’re even more excited about your upcoming wedding.” The reporter grins at you, as if he smells your fear. His hair looks like it’s glued to the top of his shiny head. “If I'm going to be honest, you were one of the last people we’d expect to tie the knot this year. We are all dying to hear more.” 
What? You force yourself to breathe, feel the air fill your lungs, to avoid making an expression you’ll regret. 
“Well, yeah, I'm sure it looks like it all happened quickly,” you answer, feeling your tongue trip over the words. Mostly because it did, in fact, happen quickly, but you can’t let them know that. “But Josh and I feel strongly about, uh, this whole thing, and—”
“Please, don’t spare us the details.” 
Telepathically, Joshua squeezes your hand. This, you understand. He’s telling you to lean on him, and you trust that. 
“Hold your horses,” he cuts in, almost too quickly, which makes the corners of your mouth twitch upward. He was definitely looking for an opening, but you, bizarrely, don’t mind at all. He turns to you and smiles. “What's the fun without a little mystery? It's been a wild ride, but I'm loving every second of it.” 
It’s this one, the lamest and most embarrassing dad joke of them all, that gets you. 
You laugh: a real one, big, loud, and unafraid. It's here, caught in the glare of the camera flash, where you find yourself hoping, even just a little, that this wasn’t just a favor, that this was a sign you could actually survive this arrangement. 
You’re not asking for love—just a little bit of like. and, right now, you think you like Joshua Hong. 
In the evening, you find yourself in the oaken parlor nestled away in the back halls of the Acrosian palace. 
There's a piano there, gathering dust. It's a Steinway, spindly and chestnut, almost identical to the one you have at the palace in Cotria. 
You and Jihoon had been unpacking your hodgepodge of things (unsorted, since the act of sorting would have forced you to stomach the fact that you were actually moving), when he had found your old lesson books. 
You should break in that piano, he had said. Either that, or wait for your fiance to find you. He seemed ok at the derby today. 
I guess. 
What Jihoon hadn’t seen was all the photographs you had to take after your interview with The Sun, where Joshua decided to remind you that you were supposed to hate him. By that, you mean that he managed to make every single one unbearable. (A tap of the foot: Stand up straight. A careful brush of the elbow: Let’s link arms. A discerning, tactful glance at your chest: Pull up your dress. That, or he was no better than the average man.) 
You and he hadn’t talked much after that. Hopefully, he’s fled to your cold, dark dungeon of a room to read, so he can finally leave you alone.
“Remember when your parents invited all their friends over and asked you to play?” Jihoon says, perched on the loveseat while he sorts through an old jewelry box. 
“Yeah, and I literally forgot everything?” you laugh. “Freaking Jeonghan had to check on me because I locked myself in my room for 24 hours straight. And then he had the nerve to laugh at me.” 
You thumb through the fattest book of the pile. The binding is soft; the pages now yellow and fuzzed over by time. 
On page 5, Chopin's Waltz in A-flat major. three four time or whatever, you had scrawled in defiant red ink. Page 37, a thick black line through Debussy's name on Arabesque No. 1. This is because you would always laugh at it during lessons, and you wanted to save yourself the trouble. 
“Do you want to keep this?” Jihoon holds up a choker that resembles a jock strap. “When did you even wear this? It looks like a cat toy.” 
You ignore him and start to play. You were never excellent—competent would be a better word. Still, it was enough for you. Soonyoung would ask you to play during drunk karaoke, and you could still keep up with Jeonghan when he played one of his overcomplicated duets. 
Your hands remember the velvet thud of the keys, the glide of the pedal. When you turn the page, there’s a scrawled in BITCH! next to a heavily circled allegro. Piano was one of the only things that your parents forced you to do that you actually liked. The kicker was that it didn’t even do you any good. You weren’t as talented as your parents would like you to be, meaning that, to them, you weren’t talented at all. 
It’s then that your fingers slip, and you miss a chord. In your defense, you have a fresh manicure. Always blame the nails. Your mom hated when you kept them long, even more than your hardass tutor.  
“The prince is helping with the theater production this year, right?” Jihoon holds a single earring up to the light. You think you lost the other one in Ibiza last year. “You gonna help out again?” 
“Maybe.” Another wrong note. You’re losing steam trying to read all the ledger lines and your smeared, illegible writing next to them. “I don't know. He probably won’t even want me to. I'm choosing a different piece, by the way. Bored of this one.” 
The truth about your 21st birthday was that you did actually intend to spend it at the youth theater. It was your idea before it was Jeonghan’s idea, but, at the time, you both still were a package deal.
You were on piano; Jeonghan was on whatever else he pleased. He'd always been indecisive like that. At the bench, you’d hoist the little ones on your knee and regale them with the classical version of the opening song from paw patrol. Jeonghan stole prop masks from the back, mostly to hide behind the curtains and scare people, you included. You’d both stay up late, paint spackled on your palms, trying to Michelangelo a backdrop with the combined artistic talent of a TI-84. 
The production became your thing, just you and him, no cameras, no press releases, no parents. But like everything else, neither you, Jeonghan, nor anyone else was able to keep those inevitable truths apart. The set pieces were repainted in Italy, the finger-painted fields turned luminescent with varnish; the pins and needles in the costumes swapped with mother-of-pearl; and, finally, you, replaced by a classically trained pianist from Juilliard. At least he was hot. 
Everyone knows the rest of the story—the red carpet, the empty seats, and the puffy pink balloons outside the mansion in Saint Tropez. 
“Oh please,” Jihoon wheedles. “You and I both know he wanted you there.” 
“Then maybe he should have fought harder.” You flip to a random page, this one marked up in pink gel pen. You remember it bled through all the pages behind it, making it a pain to read but awfully funny during lessons. “It doesn't matter. There’s probably wedding stuff i gotta deal with.” 
Jihoon lets you play this next piece uninterrupted. It’s not that it’s a sensitive subject for you—there were plenty of other things that filled the wedge between you and your brother—but it certainly didn’t help. 
You let your fingers wander over the stubborn keys. It feels good to play, even if you’re almost unforgivably rusty. You reach for the page, when you hear Jihoon again: “You know, you’re allowed to come in, your highness.” 
Immediately, your hands freeze. Like a scolded child, you become aware of how your fingers teeter over the keys, the stumbling, awkward clacking of your nails, the one or two missed quarter notes from the last measure. 
You turn to face the door, where Joshua stands, leaning against the frame like a sleazy model from an Abercrombie catalog. He probably came from the gym. Seeing him dressed down is still very weird, mostly because you can’t decide if it’s because he looks good or if it’s because it reminds of seeing your teacher at the grocery store. 
“Anyone teach you manners?” you ask, unsure if your hackles should be raised. 
“No, I was raised in a barn, just like those horses you like so much,” he laughs. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You’re not bad, you know.” 
“Thanks.” You eye him skeptically. “Thought you were gonna comment on the nails.” 
“Do you want me to?” 
“Preferably not, but it’s not like you‘d listen to me anyway.” You look for Jihoon’s reaction, but he seems to have conveniently disappeared. “Let’s play a duet. I’m cashing in my favor.” 
“Sure,” Joshua replies. “I'm no good, though. Might be more of a punishment for you.” 
You slide over on the bench, and he sidles up next to you. He smells like Le Labo and sweat, the sting citrusy and bright, close enough to linger. 
“No good?” You pick up another fat book from the stack atop the lid: The Joy of Duets. “Me neither.” 
“You have no idea,” he chuckles. “And trust me, I tried.”  
“I’ll do top?” you announce. 
Joshua snickers, and you kick him under the bench (really, just a tap of your foot). 
You spend the next two minutes tripping over a Schubert piece. Terribly, this is endearing to you. You make somewhat of a couple—you, with your horrible form, and Joshua, now squinting at the key signature like it’ll make it easier to read.
“Buddy,” you exclaim. “Left hand goes here.” Laughing, you reposition his hand mid-chord to an octave below. You feel it tense beneath you before yielding to proper technique. 
“Aw, what?” he whines. “See, I told you I was no good. Give me a second.” 
You watch him puzzle over the next few lines, pretty brow furrowed. You conclude that Pajama Joshua is decidedly better than Prince Joshua. He’s funnier, kinder, warmer. Even his hands feel softer. 
“Also, about earlier today,” you start. The words are starting to dry up on your tongue, but you figure Pajama Joshua is an easier target than usual. “I didn't know they trained you in stand-up comedy.” 
“We laugh in this country too, you know.” When Joshua says this, he grins, bumping into your shoulder like you’d been friends for a long time. For once, it feels easy, natural. 
“Well, thanks anyway.” 
“I couldn't leave my fiancée out to dry.” The word must sound ridiculous even to him, because he laughs just the same as he did when he unloaded his ridiculous puns onto the unassuming world. “No really. We’re in this together, unfortunately. It’s my duty.” 
Duty, both the knife and the wound. You can’t say you’re surprised he’s only nice to you out of obligation. So is everyone else, and you don’t know why you thought it’d be any different, especially coming from him. It’s not like you’re wearing your ring now either; you suppose you’re just as guilty. 
“You cross over here,” you tell him, changing the topic. You slide your hand over his, and it bends to you. “Thumb under. Sorry, I couldn't help but notice.” 
“It's ok,” Joshua replies. “I only learned piano because I had to. When I stopped going to lessons, I forgot everything. Now I feel like I put this piano to shame.” 
“Really? Not to stroke your ego, but you strike me as the type to be good at everything.” 
“No,” he chuckles. “Only when I have to be. I actually wanted to learn how to play guitar.” 
“No way.” 
“Yes way. I wanted to have one of those woven guitar straps, get a little pick collection going, be able to play any song from the Beatles discography. All the cliche stuff.” 
“Well, why can’t you?” you ask. “Minus the Beatles thing. Pick better music.” 
“Back then, it never occurred to me. We all learn piano.” 
“That's silly,” you blurt out. “Who cares?” 
“That's a little rich coming from you.” 
You frown, feeling all the usual unpleasantries bubble up through your skin. 
“That's not really fair.” You absentmindedly play a few keys, all disjointed. “Taking guitar lessons doesn’t make you a problem child.” 
“It's not about that, though,” Joshua says. He's avoiding your eyes. “It's everything, together. I couldn't just pick up a guitar and be someone else.” 
“Someone else? You mean you? The real you?” 
“Yes,” Joshua presses. “That's the point. I can't just do whatever I want. Sometimes the real you is more trouble than it’s worth.” 
“Someone’s dramatic. If you do everything the same, nothing will change. Maybe getting into a little trouble isn’t such a bad thing.” 
“Forgive me,” he says, mid-chuckle. “You wouldn’t call this trouble?” 
He’s got you there. Childishly, all your pride hardens to a lump in your throat, one you’ve never learned to swallow. 
“Your family needed our help too, remember?” 
“Yeah, and you think I don’t think about that every day? How, maybe, if I had done something different, then we wouldn’t be here?” 
You feel stung. You don’t know how to tell him that you’ve been trying to figure out the same thing your whole life. If you were a better daughter, you’d have spared everyone the trouble. Unfortunately, you’d gotten it wrong so many times, you stopped trying.
What's worse is that he doesn’t even sound mad—you watch his fingertips ghost over the keys of a C-scale, rhythmically, methodically. Piano scales, this marriage, everything: just things to do on his never-ending list. 
A hesitant knock at the door interrupts any possibility of you coming up with anywhere close to the right thing to say. 
“Prince Joshua, the king and queen need to speak to you.” It’s an aide, probably sweating bullets deciding when and how they should intrude on this wonderful conversation of yours.
“Right,” says Joshua, and when he gets up from the bench, he doesn’t look back. 
“You ready to get stuffed?” 
Good fucking morning to you—Somi’s voice, fluorescent through your phone speakers, seems to be enough of an alarm clock for you. Joshua, in the doorway dual wielding a coffee cup and the morning paper, raises a tired eyebrow.
After the events of last night, you’d wondered if he would somehow disappear at nighttime in an effort to avoid his eventual fate (you). Instead, you found him on his usual side of the bed, drinking his usual mug of chamomile tea, in his usual silence. 
You've heard that couples shouldn’t go to bed angry, but no one said anything about indifferent. Then again, you and Joshua are hardly a couple. 
“Ew,” you laugh. “No. Maybe? Should I be scared?” 
“Absolutely. You’re eating your weight in food today because I need your opinion on catering.” 
Smushing your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, you watch the mirror as your wavering reflection puts on a layer of mascara. 
“For your party?” 
“Yeah, although on second thought, maybe it’s a bad idea to bring the girl who’s gonna puke everything up anyway.” 
“My IBS is none of your business. Besides, the real food critic is Jihoon,” you reply. “Sometimes I feel like that’s the only reason he still works here.” 
“You’re coming in an hour, right?” 
You check the clock. No, you are not. You’re only halfway through a full beat and if you don’t get any caffeine inside you within the hour, you will commit a crime. 
“Nope.” You pop open your compact. “I have to change, and I desperately need to locate a coffee. I will suck a fucking bean off if i need to.” 
“I'm hanging up on you,” Somi whines. “It's too early for you to be gross and late.”  
“As if you weren’t talking about getting stuffed.” 
“Whatever.” Click.
At this point, you feel like Somi’s party is both the proverbial and literal light at the end of the tunnel. No expectations, no rules, and no semi-arguments between you and your doomed fiance. 
Then you notice that Joshua’s disappeared from the room—he probably couldn’t stand listening to your end of the conversation. Briefly, you wonder where he is. Off running an errand for his dear parents, perhaps, or maybe at the gym you still haven’t discovered yet. Even from the hefty distance he keeps you at, you can still appreciate a man who looks like he’s touched a dumbbell. 
It's only when you’re halfway out the door, almost an hour later, juggling your purse and your phone and the distinct absence of a caffeinated beverage, that you find him. 
“Come to ruin my day?” you ask, maybe three-fourths joking. 
“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 
Jihoon, hovering by the car, chokes on his water. 
“Oh!” The surprise knocks the sound out of you. “Thank you. Really.” 
“Gladly,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.
He holds all your stuff as you clamber into the car, before handing it back to close the door for you. You’ll admit it’s nice, but as Jihoon starts to drive, you feel a familiar twist in your chest.
“Interesting,” he remarks. “Didn’t know you were on a coffee order basis.” 
“We’re not,” you answer. You pop the lid open. It's a cappuccino, made the classic way, milk foam bubbling out the top. Not your favorite, but it’ll do. 
More than that, it’s an olive branch. Yesterday did get weird, but you’re getting the impression that it’ll always get weird. Undoubtedly, there is someone out there who’ll get Joshua. His schedules, his straight-backed obligation, the polished photo ops and the cappuccinos made to a perfect one to one to one ratio. You know this because this is the world you came from, one that should be home to you. 
Instead, you circle each other in an unsure, clumsy dance. You can’t quite get it right. It's all the same now. The bite of a horse saddle not made for your body, the glow of your heirloom ring, now cheapened by your graceless hand, Joshua’s lonely, reaching palm as he disappears in the rearview mirror. 
On your arrival home in the evening, you return with two things: a few extra kilos and an absolutely horrendous copy of the Daily Mail, courtesy of Somi, who saw it at the grocery. 
"Great showing from the couple of the year," you say, shucking your copy at Joshua. "It looks like we're in Shark Tale." 
Even from a distance, the cheap ink-spackled cover shows more than enough. LIP LOCK FLOP!, it reads, although you wouldn’t really call it a lip lock. 
It was at the derby—Quick, they’re looking at us, you had said. Then what you would call a nun’s version of a kiss: you, already halfway out the door, and him, lips hesitant and pursed, as if he was asked to smooch his withering, dusty great-grandmother. 
"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that," Joshua answers, voice level. "It's not that bad." 
He puts his book down to pick the magazine up, holding it at a distance like the image will jump out of the page and bite him. You see his expression flicker, and that's all you need to confirm your suspicions. 
"Ok, it's a little bad." He places it on the nightstand next to him face-down. "It'll be alright. It's not like the wedding will be called off over one bad picture." 
"You know that's not the issue." You sit on your side of the bed, about a full meter away from him. You kind of want to look again just to see how bad it is, but you're sure it'll be inescapable by the morning. 
"Since when did you care what the press thought of you?" 
"Since it mattered." You stare at your lap, eyes fixed on the too-new, wiggly hem of your pajamas instead of him. You can tell he's still looking at you, though–you think those big, watery eyes have some sort of flashlights in them, and you don't like it. "It seems wrong if our mistakes take up space." 
You hear him make a small noise of agreement. Joshua still won't admit that you're right, but you suppose you like that a little. At least he'll be stubborn about something, even if it's about clearly not liking you. 
"What do you suggest?" he asks, putting his book down. “We didn't choose each other, so I'm not surprised there's no attraction." 
"Ouch." He's right, but you'd rather be the one saying it. "I'm a good kisser. You aren't." 
"I'm just not good at kissing you," he retorts. 
"Evidently." You shimmy towards his side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler under your thighs, the pillows still neatly arranged on the headboard. "What I'm saying is that we should at least try to look more realistic. Like–" 
"Are you saying we should practice?" Joshua looks at you over the frames of his glasses, incredulous. 
"Yeah," you say, now too far in it to back out. "Like exposure therapy. For unwilling couples." 
The room gets quiet, as if it wasn't unbearably so before. You watch Joshua pick up his book again. He puts the bookmark in, two-thirds from the spine of the book so as to not ruin the binding, and places it over the doomed tabloid. 
"Okay." To your surprise, he turns to face you. The lamplight catches the lens of his glasses and makes his eyes look warmer than they truly are. "How should we do this?" 
The way Joshua's gaze settles on you makes you feel like you're being evaluated. An exam in Kissing 101, except the test would rather not have anything to do with you at all. For the first time in your life, you let your eyes wander to his lips, rosy and full, and you feel the pit of anxiety in your belly grow wider. Somehow he's managed to take all the fun out of one of your favorite activities, but you'll be damned if he walks away from this thinking it's you who's the problem. 
"Just...let me lead," you say quietly, now leaning closer to him. You have to ease yourself into it. You let your body respond, feel the skip of your heart, a heady flush wash over your cheeks. He smells like spearmint and clover. 
You've kissed a lot of people. None of this should feel new to you. His eyelashes skim against your cheek, and you can hear the breath he takes, quivering, gentle.
Despite all this, the first kiss is no better than any of the other ones. his lips meet yours, hesitant before they start moving. He's shy, and it would almost endear him to you if he wasn't so annoying. But then the charade is over. His nose clocks yours and it startles you both enough to draw away, ever so slightly. 
"Not my fault," you murmur. You're so close, you can see your reflection in his pupils, glassy and dark. 
"Thought this was practice," responds Joshua, unfazed. 
So you lean in again, giving it another go. Two is better—sweet and succinct. a first date type of kiss. You can taste the berry of your lip balm on him. 
Then again, except this time it's him who goes in, chases your lips. 
The scary thing is that you thought this would be much harder. You had stood in the bathroom, looked yourself in the mirror, and psyched yourself up to do the impossible. 
But the moment you meet him, now so close there's no room to breathe, you feel an impenetrable, unshakable desire crawling up your bones. Your palm finds the flat of his chest. Even under the silk of his ridiculous pajama top, you feel the heat of his skin, the restless quick of his heartbeat, and your stomach flips. 
Four, five. You're losing count. Joshua's hand trails up your arm to cup your cheek, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath catch in your chest. 
He's warm, so warm. When your other hand finds the back of his neck, he makes a small sound in his throat and you like it.
It's at this point you realize there is no point in pretending. Maybe you don't want to kiss Joshua at any other moment during any other day, but you do now. You really do. 
When your tongue meets the seam of his lips, it feels all too natural. At first, predictably, he buffers a bit. For a split second, you envision him pulling away and saying you've gotten more than a lifetime's worth of practice in. 
But he doesn't. Instead, an arm winds around your waist and that's all it takes for your body to stop listening to you altogether. Lips still connected, you lift yourself to straddle his lap, right over the folded up covers, and his hands, devastatingly strong, find your hips to keep you rooted there. 
You're starting to think he isn't such a bad kisser after all—maybe he really was holding out on you, but there's something weirdly rewarding about him waiting until he liked you just a little more. Whatever that means. 
You learn that his hair is soft, really soft, at the base of his neck. You learn that he likes when you bite his lips and you learn that his spearmint mouthwash does, in fact, taste as good as it smells. 
You also learn that you, paradoxically, might not know how to love Joshua Hong, but you sure do know how to kiss him. 
--end of part 1--
[part 2 -> ]
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bitchface24-7 · 24 hours ago
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HE’S A WHAT?! - VIKTOR X READER
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synopsis: You're an exhausted student, plagued with too much assignments and riddled with insomnia. You've found an amazing ASMR artist called "The-Herald", their ASMR puts you to sleep almost instantly. Their voice immediately putting you into a drowsy state. So when you see a Patreon link regarding more videos, one specifically titled "Talking you through it | NSFW Audio (1mil subscriber) Special" It sparks your attention. Now you're hooked. Instead of being Pavloved into drowsiness, you've pavloved yourself into arousal. His voice sounds familiar though...
warnings: NSFW audio mentions, voice kink, masturbation, obsession, neediness, realizations, suggestiveness, grammarly is my beta, adding youtube and patreon to the arcane verse so lowkey a modern au! ???
genre: m/f
p.s. @melisshivering sent me a DM with a HOT Viktor NSFW audio (literally sounds so similar to him it's INSANE) and I came up with the idea with them for this fic. So send them some thanks as well if you enjoy this fic. I'll put the link at the end of the fic
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As a top academy student alongside your friends Sky, Viktor, and Jayce, you're completely burnt out. Hours upon hours of studying, assignments, working on the campus library to help pay for your tuition. You're riddled with exhaustion that just won't go away, and insomnia is kicking your ass.
"The-Herald" has been your saving grace. His ASMR videos captivating you, helping you quiet your mind as you fall asleep. He keeps his face out of the frame in all his videos, but you can imagine how attractive he is; especially due to his voice. It kind of reminds you of Viktor's.
Are you hyper fixating on this creator due to his voice and your massive crush on Viktor? No. Shut up.
So imagine your surprise when you see a Patreon link for more content, NSFW content specifically. Well... it wouldn't hurt to check it out...
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You're addicted. Holy shit that audio couldn't have been any hotter. The orders, the praise, the degradation, the growly tone of his voice, the sound design.
Fuck... you don't think you've ever cum that hard before.
Your whining pants, your messy cunt, your aching wrist, and noisy bullet vibrator. You came in like ten minutes, you came again in less than two.
Who needs hookups when you've got The-Herald calling you a good girl in his sexy accent as he praises you for being good, and degrades you for being his personal slut.
Hopefully nobody finds out about your new obsession.
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It's becoming bad how dependent you are on this man. You're constantly thinking about him. His voice, his words, how he makes you feel. He's honestly rivaling Viktor at this point for how bad of a crush you have on him; and you don't even know what he looks like.
You're down horrendous.
Like your entire libido revolves around this man.
You get one hell of a surprise on your next shift at the campus library.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Here you are, doing your due diligence and retuning books to their proper shelves as you stop every once in a while to chat with your friends. Everything is awesome, it's great! Until Jayce throws a bomb at you.
"So, when're next uploading V?"
You pause your ministrations as Sky continues to work and the two men have a small conversation. Upload? What is Jayce talking about?
"Tonight, actually."
"Really? I though you only posted on Thursdays."
"Eh, I post when I want."
You butt in. No way... there's no way! "Uhhh... Post where? If you don't mind me asking." Jayce looks at Viktor and Viktor casually shrugs, "I run an ASMR channel. It helps me pay my tuition here, it's called The-Herald. Maybe you heard of it? It's been trending these past few weeks."
You accidentally drop a book.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
You've been masturbating to your friends voice, your crushes voice. You've pavloved yourself into arousal if Viktor says anything demeaning, praising, or that can pass as an order. You fucked up BIG TIME.
"What is wrong with you? Pick that up. You could've accidentally hurt yourself. Those textbooks aren't light you know?"
No goddamnit why?! It's like he can read your mind! You shudder out a sigh as you bend down and pick the textbook up, putting it away.
"Good girl."
A wheeze escapes you. Oh Viktor's just teasing you now and being an asshole about it. You look over your shoulder and see Sky and Jayce working together, Viktor is staring you down.
You quickly add, "Yeah I've seen it on my recommended tab. You've gotten quite popular, congrats!"
"Thanks, sweetheart." Viktor casually states, his eyes narrowed onto you as he smirks. He knows. He's gotta know! He's eyeing you down like you're a steak and he's starving.
Another hour passes by and you can feel Viktor's stare on you the entire time. Jayce and Sky pack up, Viktor stays behind.
His one reasoning being, "I don't have class tomorrow until three pm, the two of you have a class for seven in the morning. I can stay behind and make sure she gets home safe, you two can't."
Jayce and Sky can't argue with that logic, so they leave with some hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. Now it's just you and Viktor in this massive empty library.
"You're not very subtle you know." Viktor states as he runs a finger across multiple spines on the shelf, You put your tongue into your cheek, "What do you mean?"
"You've known about my channel for a while."
"You can't know that."
You turn around and Viktor's a few centimeters away from you, your noses are almost brushing together. His voice is quiet, but it damn near echoes in the silent library, "You shouldn't use a well-known nickname as your user ID. It kind of gives you away."
A sharp inhale is what he gets in response. Fuck. You didn't think about that. You assumed The-Herald was some stranger, not your friend. Not your crush.
"I didn't know it was you."
Viktor's eyebrow quirks up as he huffs in amusement, "You didn't know it was me? Wouldn't my voice give me away? My ah... accent isn't very common here."
"I didn't want to assume."
"So you subscribed to my NSFW channel, just cause?"
"I did that cause your voice is hot and it makes me cum quick."
Viktor steps back in some shock, his eyes minutely widened, "That was much more blunt than I expected."
You shrug, "It's the truth. I have a massive crush on you, this person's voice is remarkably similar to yours, there's dirty videos. One plus one equals two."
"You have a massive crush on me?"
You look down, trying to hide your face; Viktor doesn't let you. He pushes your head back up with his fingers under your chin, "Tell me sweetheart, be honest."
"Y-- Yes."
Viktor hums in satisfaction, "Well I have a crush on you too."
A beaming grin overtakes your face. Your eyes glittery, you're even lightly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He likes you back!
"I have a question for you. Would you like to join me on my NSFW channel? I'm getting tired of using my hand and imagining you. I can have you for real now; only thing is you'll need to stay quiet."
You just nod, giggling in excitement. Holy shit, Viktor's your boyfriend now. You get that glorious voice everyday. You get him.
"Good girl."
Ahhh, he's gonna kill you one day.
You're not complaining, what a way to go!
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I speed-wrote this so if there is any grammar or spelling mistakes, no there isn't.
Here’s the link 😏:
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written-and-readen · 1 day ago
Text
The Odd Are Slim But Never Zero Part 3
Moze, Phainon, Sampo x fem!reader
Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher)
Summary: Someone walks in on you
Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Moze), cumming inside, semi-public (Moze, Phainon, Sampo), marking (Sampo), getting caught
a/n: With Amphoreus comes more men to write for. I would've posted this much later if it hadn't come out. Lord help me when Anaxa shows up.
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Moze
You thought Moze was supposed to be stealthy. Him coming out of invisibility scares you on the daily. Him fucking you in a random Yaoqing alley in broad daylight is a hard contradiction to that.
Your back is pinned against a wall as his cock pistons in and out of your folds. Your pants and underwear have been long discarded on a nearby crate. His gloved hand is wrapped around your thigh to part your legs, giving it a squeeze occasionally. Not only is he more bold by making a move on you out here, but he’s tougher than usual. Your pussy clenches, trying to get a grip just like you are. You don’t want to admit that some of the best sex you’ve had happened in an alley, but that may be the case because you also really don’t want him to stop.
“Are you okay?” You say as you fight back a flood of moans unsuccessfully. Something must be up to bring about this.
“Failed again,” He growls in your ear. He must be talking about another one of his attempts to assassinate Feixiao. The Shadow Guard keeps trying despite not being successful yet, but it’s only natural he’d be frustrated over it once in a while. Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s doing a good job.
“Moze!” You whine when he hits a particularly sweet spot in your pussy, a reminder of how good of a job he’s currently doing. It’s embarrassing how quiet he is while you can barely keep your noises from spilling into his ears. You try to muffle them in his shoulder as your legs quiver beneath you.
“Where do you think he went?” A familiar woman’s voice comes from nearby. A mere glance in its direction leads your eyes to connect with Feixiao’s piercing blue ones. It’s only a moment before you’re averting your gaze, face now burning. Did she recognize you in those few seconds? Oh, who are you kidding? If she didn’t, she’d at least recognize her own assassin.
You’re quickly reminded of the position you’re in with another swift thrust of Moze’s hips. You wonder if he noticed the general, but he seems pretty unphased. With his keen senses, it’s more believable that he’s just acting like he didn’t notice. You’ll think it over later sometime when you’re not being railed against a wall. For now, you just let the impending orgasm ripple through your body as Moze fills you up with the product of his own.
“You okay?” Moze helps steady you after the fact, hands on your waist.
“Yeah. You should probably get back to Feixiao,” You reply, still wondering about that brief moment of eye contact.
“It’s fine,” Moze replies. Once you’re dressed again, he picks you up bridal style so you don’t have to stand on unsteady legs. “She’ll understand me taking care of you after that. I think she could tell how much it was for you.”
Shit. You hide your flushed face in Moze’s chest. It’s going to be a while before you want to face the general again.
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Phainon
You wish you could say the goosebumps on your skin were due to the cool water of the bath, but it’s definitely a result of a certain Chrysos Heir’s gaze. You can practically feel how Phainon’s blue irises trail across your body as you sit in his lap. The water only just comes up to your hips, leaving plenty of you for him to admire.
You’ve only seen each other naked a few times before and just briefly, so you can’t say you don’t feel the same. His muscular frame draws your eyes as well, slowly but surely leading them downward until you hit the water’s surface.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You hope switching the subject will take your mind off the tension. “I thought this bath was only for the Chrysos Heirs.”
“Well, you’re the guest of a Chrysos Heir. I’m sure that’s enough.” It seems like a weak argument to you, but his hands slowly running up your sides has you gasping instead of protesting. Previously resting on your thighs under the surface of the bath, his hands are still cool as they roam your skin, leaving water droplets in their wake.
“Phainon…” He’s just moments away from reaching your breasts but stops upon hearing you murmur his name.
"Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?" His eyes meet yours as his motions cease. You pause and find yourself shaking your head.
"It's just...new." You avert your gaze, but a hand on your jaw brings you right back to Phainon.
"I'll take it slow, okay?" The way his eyes soften reveals the truth behind his words.
"Okay." You nod before he brings you into a kiss.
The warmth of his lips moving against yours has you melting into him. The water ripples as you lean closer. Your arms go to rest on his shoulders, hands brushing through the snow white hair on the back of his neck. Simultaneously, you feel his touch dance around your collarbone, twirling patterns making their way lower and lower. Finally, he lands on the curve of your breast. At the same time you gasp and break the kiss, he smiles, eyes flickering to watch your reaction. The light pinch he gives your nipple shoots pleasure straight to your core.
As you process the new sensations, Phainon presses kiss along the same path his hand traveled. Down your neck, over your collarbone, ending right between your breasts. Your brain hardly registers it all with the way his hands also move lower. Sliding down your waist, running across your hips, crossing your thighs, and moving inward until—
"Phainon." Both of you look to see the Goldweaver herself. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest before remembering that Aglaea sees through her web of golden threads. Oh.... embarassment burns through your body at the realization she probably saw everything that just occurred in the bath before even stepping foot here.
"You better not be sullying the water." Aglaea warns in that usual silky tone.
"Well then, I guess we better go somewhere more private." Phainon stands up, taking you with him as his hands hook under your butt to support you. Looking over his shoulder as he carries you away, you swear the faintest sly smile forms on Aglaea’s lips.
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Sampo
"We should not be doing this here," You say through gritted teeth as your back hits the cold stone of a wall in Backwater Pass. Despite the way you hate how Sampo's always trying to get in your pants, there's also something you equally love about it. His emerald eyes go wide as he pleads with you to let him eat you out in the alley or whatever other scheme he's had on his mind. He's lucky desperation is a good look on him.
"Stop me at any time," He purrs against the skin of your neck with the confidence of knowing you won't. It seems you've folded one too many times. You're getting predictable. At the feeling of his teeth grazing across your skin before choosing a place to strike, you can't find it in yourself to care though. Your head lolls to the side, letting him do as he pleases.
As Sampo marks up your skin, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your shirt. He lifts your bra up to see how Belobog's chilly air has your nipples perking up. There's no hesitation in the way he takes a breast in each hand, squeezing the flesh as his mouth gets back to work.
“Sampo…” You moan right in his ear.
“Feels good, pretty girl?” Another moan falling from your lips is all he needs as response before taking it further. His thigh slots itself between your legs, and you eagerly grind down against it. From the stimulation on your neck, chest, and clit, it’s somehow too much yet not enough. The desire to have his cock filling you up slowly clouds your brain, but all a sudden it all stops.
“Sampo?” You whine, trying to regain your bearings to see why he stopped. Your brain starts to register voices, and when you look in their direction, you’re met with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards rounding the corner.
You can’t imagine what you look like right now. Clothes messily pushed out of the way so your chest is on full display and hickeys running down your neck. There’s little time to react before Sampo’s grabbing your hand and sprinting in the opposite direction with you in tow. You try your best to get your clothes somewhat back in order with your free hand as you run.
“We’re never doing this again!” You shout, hearing footsteps on your trail.
“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart.” Sampo gives you a knowing smirk. You hate that he’s right. And you hate that Gepard’s wide-eyed reaction to stumbling upon you maybe turned you on a little bit.
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