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freyito · 16 days ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴍᴇʀᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ...

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, mydei, phainon, anaxa (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you bring home a chimera that looks like them.

✧ a/n: SOMEHOW IT FEELS LIKE ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE POSTED A FIC??? IDK IF THIS IS NORMALLY HOW LONG IT TAKES ME BUT AUGHHH!!!!!!! i got a job again and many more things happening irl but i am FINALLY! FINALLY!!! starting to get back into the groove of writing and drawing and even gaming teehee... sometimes all you need is a change to get out of a slump i guess.

you may also notice that a few characters are missing from this post! thats cause whenever i do one of these big ol posts, a couple of characters really tend to make it feel like it drags on for me. that leads to me really dreading writing the fic and, of course, leads to me taking a month on the fic lol. this will be one of the last posts i do with all the male characters (and female, if i ever decide to write for them in the future), before i move onto writing five characters at most. im sorry if you guys liked these posts and your favorite characters werent written for, i know these are like. my most popular pieces. it just takes so long and by the time i reach certain characters i feel like im all outta juice.

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

⎯ Aventurine

“Well… I suppose we’ll see how this goes…”

AVENTURINE isn’t exactly against the idea of a chimera, but with all his catcakes, is it a good idea…? Both of you don’t know, and you feel a little embarrassed to admit that you didn’t think of this before bringing home the chimera. He’s not mad though, he’s quite taken by the little creature. But, with his penchant to collect catcakes, he worries about possible socialization issues.

The chimera, however, fits right in– aside from its striking eyes. Loafing and lounging with the catcakes, day in, day out. With a big ol’ smile on its cute face, happy to be with its kin… You think. Chimeras have the body of lion cubs, right? So aren’t they like… kind of related to catcakes? It’s a question you’d rather not ponder. Still, even so far from home, the chimera seems quite content. Paired with a bunch of companions who are all spoiled equally.

That being said, it seems you have chosen one of the laziest chimeras known to man. Ever since you had brought it home, it had kept Aventurine in bed even later, refusing to get up from his chest, even if the man had a meeting. It seems Aventurine has spoiled it far too much, or it has gotten so used to the comfortable life that it’s gotten quite stubborn…

⎯ Dr. Ratio

“Interesting….”

Most would not take RATIO as any type of pet person. No cats, certainly no dogs, no birds… the list goes on. Even his colleagues would not have guessed he’d take such a shine to such a… cute creature. As far as they know, cute is not a word within Ratio’s vocabulary. So, when his peers and students see a chimera toddling behind him, they can’t help but be interested.

He acts like he isn’t attached to the chimera, treating it more like a specimen than the cute little lion-butterfly-thing it is. When you first brought it to him, he was quite intrigued. A creature from a planet that not even the memokeepers can reach… It's a wonderful research opportunity, and a gift. One he cherishes, despite his logical approach to it.

It seems he has bonded with the chimera on a deeper level than you expected. It just so happens that you have picked up a chimera that not only looks like Veritas, but also one that was just as enlightened as he was. You think. You don’t understand a lick of the chimera’s little chirps, but Ratio seems to understand well enough. Then again, the math that he prattles on about with the chimera, you don’t understand either.

⎯ Boothill

“Awh, who’s this little feller?”

BOOTHILL is actually quite delighted when you bring a chimera home to him, even if your reasoning is a little… odd. Looks like him? Well, there’s only one of him and that means there’s only one look-alike; the man in the mirror. Still, despite this, he’s practically in love with the chimera. It’s been so long since he’s even had a pet– and he’s always missed the dogs and cats on the ranch– so why not indulge in your silly little shenanigans, and appreciate this little critter you’ve taken the time to pick out for him?

The two get along so well. Boothill had always wanted a pet eventually, but with his lifestyle he was afraid to ever adopt. Considering he was running around half the galaxy, he was wanted, and the closest thing to home he knew now was a ship, it was just unfair to subject any sort of animal to that life. Now that he had you and a proper home, however, he had been debating getting a pet for a long, long while.

So imagine his surprise when you had handed off a chimera to him the minute he got home after a particularly rough bounty. Even the most snarkiest, annoying personality would have him charmed. It could constantly choose you over him, and he’d still fawn over the thing. He’s happy you have someone to keep you company when he’s away, but the little kid in him (who remained, despite the fact that everything around him had burned to ash) is much more happy to come home to a pet once more.

⎯ Gallagher

“Another stray, hm?”

Despite the chimera’s protests that it is not a stray, GALLAGHER doesn’t seem to mind a new pet. He’ll just pretend he didn’t hear that comment about the chimera looking like him. You had compared him to a dog so many times before, that he was practically immune. Even if a chimera wasn't a dog, or a cat, or… well, there was no use in wondering what exactly it was. Though, he was quite intrigued that you had brought home something from Amphoreus of all places, it seems that the nameless just keep going for bigger and bigger marks.

The chimera itself is quite happy to get away from its work and laze about. On the days that Gallagher is home, it enjoys curling up on his lap (or his chest, if Gallagher is napping), and bathing in his and your attention. It’s quite domestic really, you have seen Gallagher with his other pets before, but he’s more of a big dog kind of guy. To see something relatively small curled up with him, when he’s watching TV or getting ready for bed, it makes you feel… light.

He’s also quite happy to have a pet that can actually talk back. Gallagher often catches himself muttering to himself because of how much he tends to talk to his pets. So when he gets responses from the chimera, even if it’s asking to go back to bed or telling him that this work is just ‘too much’ (all Gallagher was doing was pouring himself a drink, the chimera simply chose to follow him), it was still wonderful for him to have a buddy. It’s not everyday that you have a pet that can talk back to you, right?

⎯ Sunday

“Ah… you thought of me…?”

Now, SUNDAY isn’t against pets, he’s just a little nervous. The last pet he had… Well, you know what happened to it. But, by all means a chimera is an extraterrestrial. So, naturally, he’s a little shocked. Even if the little chimera is as cute as a button and just so damn happy to be in his lap. While he knew stepping aboard the Astral Express would mean he would see quite a lot– which included different planets, and by proxy, different flora, fauna, people, and what not– he never really expected to be face to face with such a… thing.

Looking into its wide, golden eyes, however, he feels a sense of… kinship. As weird as it is. He does his best to ignore it, not to get too overly attached to the chimera. After all, surely you must bring it back to Amphoreus. Right? He does his best to ignore the papers in your hands, and chooses instead to believe that this ‘adoption’ is more of a ‘foster’ situation.

That worry dissipates with the coming days. He finds himself quite enamored with the chimera, even sneaking it leftovers when he can. He doesn’t mean to, but he ends up reading the creature passages from his books, or from some data entries he borrowed from the archive. In fact, the idea that you would have to bring the chimera back breaks his heart a little. Not that you would, it’s quite cute to watch the chimera follow Sunday around.

⎯ Argenti

“What a stunning creature!”

Isn’t the word ‘cute’ better instead? Nevertheless, ARGENTI is quite enraptured by the chimera. So much so that he doesn’t seem to realize the similarity of the creature. Really, when you saw the sparkle in its eyes, you knew this was perfect for him. The similarity was uncanny, really. With the way the chimera was staring into your very soul, chattering off (which, you could already imagine it was praising the beauty of you), a part of you wanted to get it contacts.

Needless to say, The chimera is glued to Argenti. Or perhaps it's the other way around? The man doesn’t have any traveling companions, and he had preferred for you to stay on his ship whenever he was out on one of his excursions. The chimera, however, seemed to be quite the trusty companion. That little ‘awoo’ must be vicious, given how highly the man spoke of it. ‘It’s like a cry from the very heavens!’

It seems your gift is quite well loved, though. Not that Argenti would ever dislike your gifts. You could give him a rock– one that isn’t even shiny or shaped in an interesting way– and he’d treat it like you’d have proposed to him. The chimera, however, seems to have struck a rather special chord within him. It is hard to know if you’ve truly surprised him, but you can definitely see how attached he is to the chimera. It has been too long since someone gave him something so meaningful. Perhaps even the first time.

⎯ Mr. Reca

“Ah, is this a new crew member…? Or perhaps, a new star?”

Is there a universe where MR. RECA isn’t looking for some scene to capture? ‘Cause it’s definitely not this one. No one has ever had the ability to capture something, anything from Amphoreus, so of course he’s fascinated with the chimera. He glosses over the fact that the critter looks like him. Not enough time to think about that, when this is a star in the making. What shall he come up with this time?

He unknowingly dotes on that poor little Chimera, as well… in his own way. There’s no critiques for the creature's performance (though, you must think that it doesn’t understand exactly what Reca’s goal is.), only dazzling praise, even for something as simple as curling up and taking a nap. Such a tiny little thing, full of all sorts of inspiration! It deserves nothing more than the best of praise!

For at least a month straight, he simply cannot stop thinking of ideas and ways to make the chimera a star. A documentary, perhaps. No, no, that’s too simple. A thriller, maybe? Now, that would be interesting. How could he use such a cute creature for such a medium…? Ah, so many things to work out! This excitement keeps him fueled for days. Oftentimes, he’s writing out scenes at his desk, pacing, or even talking your ear off. All while the chimera is curled up in his lap, content as can be.

⎯Sampo Koski

“And what’s this? A new business venture?”

Of course SAMPO looks at the chimera and sees a business opportunity. Not that he’s planning to sell it, no… this little fella could be the new face of his business. Cold Feet Junior, even. Needless to say, he loves the chimera. Who wouldn’t? Such a precious little treasure from way out there, somewhere not even the great Sampo Koski can get to.

Aside from the chimera now being the face of his business, he brings the thing everywhere like it’s a little chihuahua. It gets pampered to high heaven, with little treats even you have never heard about before. From all sorts of places, from Izumo to Punklorde. You start to wonder if these treats are even good for the chimera, considering just how different these foods must be from the ones back home. The chimera seems fine enough, however.

When he can’t bring the chimera with him, however, he’s the most pathetic man you know. He’ll fake cry, use a voice that is just so tear-jerking, and say a sorrowful goodbye to the chimera. He texts you everyday when he is out, begging for pictures, asking if it's okay, asking if it's eaten… and so on. You, of course, do your best to shower him with pictures of the chimera, assuring him that it’s never been better. To which, he always responds with some sort of keyboard smash (rare for him), and praises going your way, and the chimeras way.

⎯ Jing Yuan

“Hmm…”

JING YUAN could never turn down a gift from you, of course. Especially one so cute. If you hadn’t caught him at such an inopportune time (also known as nap time), perhaps his reaction would be more grand. Or the same, he’s never been one for big expressions. A simple ‘thank you’, a kiss, and something in return has always been his style. However, this seems like a lot more than just a simple gift. A creature from Amphoreus… and a potential playmate for Mimi.

‘Potentially’ becomes a ‘definitely’ after some socializing. Instead of the chimera attaching itself to Jing Yuan, it’s very, very fond of Mimi. The grimalkin is quite well tempered, if not tolerant. The way the Chimera climbs onto him, like he is a mighty steed and not a proud lion… it’s charming in its own way. And yet, all Mimi does is maybe huff a little, and be on his merry way. Most of the time, he’d do the exact opposite the chimera wanted, by the sound of its annoyed chirps. Perhaps this was his way of playing with such a smaller creature…?

The chimera ultimately finds its spot on the bed. When you and Jing Yuan cuddled up, Mimi took his spot at the end of the bed. The chimera, unsure whether to stick themself at the end of the bed, in between you and Jing Yuan, or just sleep on the floor. Before it decides to exclude itself, Mimi makes the decision for it. With another huff (perhaps irritated that he had to leave his warm spot), he hops down from the bed, grabs the chimera by its scruff (not without it complaining, of course), and hops right back up. When you wake up in the morning, you find the chimera, stuck between Mimi’s paws, with the most content, familiar, smile on its face, while Mimi licks up its cheek repeatedly.

⎯ Blade

“...”

How many more times will this happen? First a cat cake, now a chimera. What’s next? A seal? BLADE really doesn’t know how to react. To be thought of is wonderful, but does it really always have to be in this kind of way? How many more creatures out there look like him? He can only hope you don’t find them for your ‘Blade collection’. Those poor, poor souls…

Regardless of his… pondering, the gift doesn’t go unappreciated. The chimera and Blade are like two halves of a whole, really. While Blade is sulking, so is the chimera… right next to him. When you adopted it, you swore it was just full of energy. Chirping and chattering to anyone who would listen, chimera, human, chrysos heir, no one was free from its chattering. In truth, you thought it was silly that something that held such a resemblance to such a broody man had such whimsy.

So, to see the little critter suddenly adapt Blade’s sulking and… edge, it’s a little surprising. Or not, if you understood how this tale has gone before. It’s actually kind of cute in its own odd way. When you point out the similarities in personality, all Blade feels he can do is grumble and huff. He should be used to your penchant for finding things that look and act like him by now, but somehow you always manage to surprise him.

⎯ Luocha

“What an… intriguing gift…”

LUOCHA is never one to turn down your gifts, and he certainly won’t start now. But, despite the worlds he has traveled to and all he’s seen, somehow he’s never seen quite a creature. Perhaps it is the resemblance that throws him off. He doesn’t want to turn down your gift, but where he travels to may not be the safest place for the little Chimera. Very rarely does he stay home long enough to take care of any pet, either. He rationalizes that while it is a little amusing, this must be for you.

And of course he isn’t going to take that kind of companionship from you. It’s actually kind of endearing to him that you went through all this trouble to find a cute little look-alike. He’s more entertained by the way you dote on it, by the way you call it ‘Luo-Luo’ (even though the Chimera seems over it), and he wonders to himself if you truly got this chimera for him, or to have something to coddle while he was away. Not that you coddled him, normally. He isn’t a man to be doted on like that, and you are just too shy to do that to him.

He indulges in the adoption of the chimera, of course. Even when he’s out for months on end, he makes sure to call and check up on the Chimera (and you, but he does that normally). He shouldn’t be so surprised to see all the little outfits you’ve stuck the critter in, from cats (which makes no sense, considering the body of a chimera was a lion), to wolves. He wonders how many people you have commissioned for these little outfits…

⎯ Jiaoqiu

“And this charming little companion is…?”

JIAOQIU truly thought that the Tuskipir would be his only pet. He didn’t really need a service animal outside of the emotional support, considering he had a cane, and he knew the Yaoqing like the back of his hand. You, however, decide that if one critter does well, why won’t two do better? Plus, while the Tuskipir was used for more emotional wellbeing, Chimeras were experienced with work, and when you think about it, they’d make quite the service animals.

What a shame that he can’t see the resemblance clearly. Still, he is quite touched by the thoughtfulness behind your gift. The chimera warms up to him all too easily, immediately taking its place by his side. Jiaoqiu doesn’t verbally admit it, but being thought of in such a way, especially after a trip that took you across the cosmos warms his heart. Even if he is pretty much completely recovered, it was quite nice to be cared for. Even as a healer.

In truth, as endearing as your gift was, he had expected the chimera to get in his way, under his legs, and become annoying in all sorts of ways. Given how happily it yipped and barked when you first arrived with it, he truly assumed it would be an annoyance. He’s pleasantly surprised that once the chimera has acclimated and settled, it becomes a wonderful companion. Chimera’s stomachs are so strong, you think, watching as Jiaoqiu feeds the critter a particular slice of beef that almost looks red, with the amount of spice he has put in the hotpot broth.

⎯ Moze

“I… Hm.”

It is rare for MOZE to talk without thinking. It is even rarer to interrupt his thoughts all together. You should be impressed with yourself. When met with the gloomy demeanor of the Chimera, Moze can only squint, open his mouth to form words, and ultimately lose them. What is he supposed to say? He’s never had a pet before, the strays in the alleyways who liked his scent were the closest thing to having one. All he really can do is hold the Chimera and stare into those oddly familiar eyes.

There is a quiet camaraderie between the two, once the confusion settles from Moze’s mind. When Moze is home (considering his work is too dangerous for any sort of pet), the two have a tacit, quiet understanding that you can’t quite… get. The Chimera follows Moze around, at a distance, and studies him closely, as if trying to commit his movements to memory. You swear, at some point, you heard Moze say ‘this is how you sweep’. When you walked in the room to check, the two were quiet as can be, while Moze was sweeping the kitchen floor, the Chimera perched on the counter.

When Moze is out, the Chimera sits by the door, or in the living room, or sometimes sleeps in his spot on the bed while waiting for him. It’s almost kind of heartbreaking when you think about it, knowing Moze is gone for most of the week. At the very least, it seems the Chimera is much, much more receptive to cuddles than your dear lover is. As much as it seems to miss its twin, it can’t resist curling up in your arms and taking a nap. It seems that the Chimera catches up on sleep in Moze’s place.

⎯ Mydeimos

“Hmph.”

MYDEI refuses to acknowledge the similarity. He pouts, sighs, and does his best to walk off and ignore the furry little companion you had brought home. The chimera trots after Mydei regardless, happy as can be, even if the man was ignoring it. You had to commend him, really. If you had something that cute following you around, you would fold immediately. But Mydei was stronger than you (and much, much more stubborn).

When Mydeimos wasn’t home, the chimera took up all his spots, short of the one in the kitchen. It’d sit in his chair at the table, enjoy the warmth of the private bath, and even take his spot on the bed. Which, Mydei truly doesn’t appreciate. Some days he is out from dawn till dusk, but he has always made it a point to come back home just before you fall asleep, so the two of you could sleep together. So to find you curled up with this little rascal, who was oh so happy to take his place, he doesn’t know what to feel.

He’s not jealous. No, no, he swears he isn’t. Why would he be jealous of a chimera? How silly. Despite that, you notice how he’s suddenly in much more of a rush to see you on the days that he is gone. He tries to beat the chimera to the bed, establishes his dominance in the kitchen (as if anyone could beat him), and makes it known– well.. you don’t know what he’s trying to prove to a chimera of all things. But it’s quite funny watching him try to one-up the creature, who was simply acting oblivious. Everytime you pet the chimera or praise it, you can always hear Mydei sigh. It’s not that he was neglecting the chimera in any way, not, he just had to one-up it. Almost every time he could.

⎯ Phainon

“Aha… Do I really look like this thing…?”

You are the third person to tell PHAINON a certain chimera looks like him. It worries him a little. Does he, a truly fearsome warrior that totally doesn’t have the air of a puppy, look like such a cute little creature? Looking into the chimera’s eyes, which are practically shining, he can’t help but concede… only for you, though.

The very first thing this chimera does is challenge Phainon himself. To his surprise (and dismay), the chimera starts to take all his favorite spots. Right by your legs, on your chest when you're sleeping, or when you're just laying down, and even in the baths. You find it cute, but Phainon… he’s not one to turn down a challenge, even if it’s initiated by a chimera. He takes every chance he can get to sweep you up off your feet and carry you off somewhere the chimera can only watch, like the hot baths.

While you find this kind of charming, if not funny, you can't help but feel bad for the chimera. When you show even the smallest amount of pity for it, however, Phainon decides its time to switch tactics. Instead of taking everything the Chimera did as a challenge, now it was a battle of charm. Anytime the Chimera begs for food (within his proximity), he rests his chin on your shoulder and tries to snatch the food from you. If the Chimera is sleeping on your lap, he makes an effort to also try and lay his head in your lap, and always, always, looks up at you with those pretty blues. You have to admit it's cute, but kind of pathetic. Not that you would ever want him to change.

⎯ Anaxagoras

“Hmph. But it is no Dromas.”

You, of course, know about ANAXA’s love for Dromases more than anything. You were one of the few who were graced by him and his magnificent onesie’s presence, after all. But, still, when you saw the little chimera, with its muted green coat and its missing eye, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Perhaps he is truly amused at the fact that you have found his doppelganger? Or maybe he’s finally figured out where one of his eyepatches has finally gone… either way, his tone is hard to read.

It is not long until you notice how he dotes on the chimera… in his own way, at least. He doesn’t outright ignore the critter when it toddles behind him, and on more than one occasion you have caught him talking to it, prattling on about his theories while he cleans his gun. Despite acting annoyed that you had taken one of his eyepatches for a ‘silly little costume’, he does not attempt to remove it. Not once. You take this as a victory, of course.

The real kicker is when you caught him sewing a Dromas onesie for the Chimera. His hands aren’t the steadiest, but he sits so quietly (for once), all while the Chimera lays curled up right next to his legs. You don’t mean to stare for too long, but he ends up catching you. Instead of acting shy (Which, he never did), and brushing you off, he only huffs softly, and shakes his head, before going back to his sewing. You read this as an invitation to properly watch, and when you step into the room, he doesn’t complain.

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kamiraaah · 7 months ago

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TWST PARENTS! Howl, Zigvolt and Viper!!

⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Howl, Zigvolt, and Viper families!

The Howl family, a close-knit and unique family in a way. Whether it's because of their personalities that always seem to clash but at the same time get along so easily.... Or because the children always seem to get into some adventure that may or may not be dangerous. Even Jack has a history of always getting into trouble as a child, something that he tries to prevent from happening to his younger siblings (and ends up failing a few times). Jack's family is extremely welcoming to travelers who visit Shaftland!... Or rather, Jack's mother is the most welcoming and charismatic of the small family nucleus, always appearing to be in a good mood, and is a peacemaker whenever things start to get out of hand. Jack's father is extremely suspicious of anyone outside the family, a typical lone wolf personality (something that Jack ended up inheriting), but he also ends up being the one who spoils his children the most... Okay, so Jack is no longer a little kid, but that won't stop him! He is also the one who ends up dealing most easily with his children's crises, especially Jack's younger brother, who now seems to be in a rebellious phase, and his younger sister who wants to be closer to her siblings... Sometimes it is complicated, but it is good that he has a loving wife who is by his side to help him.

Ah yes, the Zigvolt family… Now that's a family that always seems to be involved in something unbelievable. We don't even need to comment on the scandal that occurred when Sebek's mother decided to marry a human, nothing that would really change the young Zigvolt's mind, or even the shock when Baul's wife was the first to bless the couple's union! No one expected a fae like her to be the first to defend the couple, but those close to her already suspected that she had an affection for humans. After all, she also demanded that Lilia share the stories of his travels, whether in person or by letter (how she found out where he was is a mystery to this day)… Also, she was the one who helped Baul be less… extreme, against them, in a way. The wedding was a big event that caught the attention of many people in the kingdom, much to Baul's dismay, who wanted it to be something more private, just between family and a few close friends… But he couldn't hold back the tears when he saw his daughter's happiness. Sebek and his siblings ended up spending a lot of time with their grandparents, and with that, the olderbrother and sister ended up inheriting a bit of their grandmother's playful and bold personality. And whenever they can, they end up teasing the youngest in different ways, saying that he is too serious for his age, or that he has to quickly get out of this rebellious phase against his own father (nothing extremely serious, they just do this so that their brother can enjoy this new phase of his life).

The Vipers have a complicated history... Mrs. Viper was born and raised within the walls of the Asim mansion, so a lot of the things she was taught ended up, in one way or another, affecting her relationship with her children. She loves them more than anything in the world but... Some teachings are too hard to forget. Mr. Viper has worked at the Asim mansion since childhood, and ended up getting close to and falling in love with the young Viper and, despite all her warnings, he decided to get married and carry the burden of the Viper name alongside his beloved. Promising himself that he would do everything to bring some happiness to his children and his wife. The dance was something that Mrs. Viper insisted on becoming a family tradition, whether on special occasions like birthdays or as a way to help everyone understand and express themselves. Mr. Viper created a small tradition of doing everyone's hair almost every day, were to teach his children how to do more elaborate hairstyles,to talk about everything or nothing to relax or whether to comfort them after a hard day… Even in difficult times, the Viper family is very loyal to themselves, always looking out for each other's safety even if it costs them their own, whether in a direct or indirect way.

AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can! 🙃

I took a long time with the designs again and I got carried away with the drawings…😅 And... Can you tell I'm not good at creating clothes? Anyway! I hope you enjoy them, and feel free to share your headcanons! <3

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p1astr81 · 2 months ago

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a dream p3

in which: Oscar has a dream. Like a real REM sleep dream. And he may just have found a pathway to make it a reality.

warning: super duper eensy weesny bit of angst. Zak Brown

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Your very obvious withdrawal from him didn’t deter him. It would take more than that to kill his determination.

The race ended fourty-five minutes ago. He climbed the steps of the hospitality to the cafe once more in the hopes that maybe yesterday was an off day. Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep, or he caught you in the wrong moment. The possibilities were endless.

But when he stepped up to the counter again, he realized it wasn’t just a one time thing.

“What can I get for you?” Your smile was barely there, strained. Your voice was less chipper, muted, un-enthused as if you were bored.

“A water.”

You laughed. Just a single breath pushed past your lips, but he was sure it was a laugh. “You got it.”

You turned your back. Oscar scanned the room. It was quite bare. And he called your name.

You never gave him your name, though now that you think about it, it was on your name tag.

“Yes?” You faced him again.

Oscar shifted on his feet. “Would you… will you go to dinner with me?” An unexpectedly bold request from him, but he felt like it was now or never.

Eyes wide, brows shot up, you stared at him. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “That’s a really generous offer, but I can’t.” You shook your head, and truthfully, you couldn’t believe your reality.

You just rejected a formula one driver. And he looked crushed.

“Can I at least get your number?” He blurted.

Another sigh, and another shake of your head. “Honestly, I’d say yes, but it’s against my contract.”

I’d say yes. Hope. There was hope. He didn’t totally lose you. “Against your contract?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. I can’t have any sort of relations with any of the drivers. My manager reprimanded me for even talking to you for too long.” You shook your head with an irritated sigh.

Oscar thought for a moment. His only response was, “oh.” A short beat of silence, before you turned your back again.

What a stupid thing to have in your contract. Oscar’s brain was turning. Could he do something about it? He had to, right? If he believed that dream was more of a prophecy, or a glimpse into the future, then he had to do something.

The white paper cup was placed on the pick-up table. A comforting routine. He thanked you and walked off.

A streak of black caught his attention. Your number, written on the cup. He covered it with his hand, smiling to himself.

۶ৎ

Oscar’s knock was hesitant on the office door. He was only at the mtc on their week off for media duties, but he decided a stop by Zak’s office wouldn’t hurt.

He was welcomed in, and took a seat across from the CEO.

They exchanged small talk before Oscar dropped the bomb. “So, I’ve heard that the hospitality workers have a provision in their contract that prohibits them from having relationships with the drivers.” Zak confirmed with a nod. “Is that solid, or could it be changed?”

Zak smirked. “Who’s caught your eye?”

He tried to play it off, shrugging. “Well I just think it’ll strengthen the whole ‘papaya family’ image if we kind of eliminated that rule.” He spoke wisely.

The man across from him chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do, but it’s up to HR and the hospitality manager.”

Oscar thanked him and left.

۶ৎ

The following week was another race week. Another Thursday he found himself drawn to the second floor of the hospitality. Drawn to the cafe.

But you weren’t at the counter.

“Oscar.” His whipped around at the sound of your voice, finding you sat at a table in the corner. He furrowed his brows, sitting down across from you.

“What did you do?” You accuse him.

He looked at you like you shot him. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

You sighed, leaning on your hand. “They gave me a new contract this morning. Said the old one was voided. I read the whole thing. Only one thing changed and I have a feeling you know what that was.” You pointed an accusing finger at him.

Leaning back, he held back a boastful smile. He played clueless, shrugging.

“So you had nothing to do with my contract suddenly stating that I’m able to have relationships with the drivers?” You raised a brow.

He shrugged again, but his smile started to creep through.

You scoffed a laugh.

“I guess this means you can go to dinner with me now.” Oscar grinned.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip to try and hold back your smile. “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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mountainsandmayhem · 10 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

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yanderelovebites · 4 months ago

Text

Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

#batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #yandere batfam #batsis #yandere #damian wayne

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amomentsescape · 1 year ago

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OooooO! Could I get a Slasher X reader! Like where another "rival" Slasher gets interested in another Slasher's So?

When Another Slasher Becomes Interested in Reader

Brahms Heelshire x Reader

A/N: I decided to not go into specifics on who the "rival" slasher was since it would have involved a lot of background and explanation on why they were in the UK in the first place.

Brahms's jealousy and possession over you knows no bounds

He doesn't even want you within a 3 foot radius of the man whose only job is to drop off groceries

He enjoys having you all to himself, living in the middle of nowhere with only him as your company

He may be the one who needs to be taken care of, but that's not to say that he doesn't want you to rely on him too

He has always wanted you to seek out his protection

He loves to see you curl up beside him and just fully relax in his presence

In fact, Brahms is never satisfied unless he is fully enveloping you with an iron grip, making sure nothing else can touch you and you can't sneak away

So when the feelings of paranoia began, Brahms went into a frenzy

He triple checked the locks on all the doors and windows every single night

He set up a security system to prevent anyone from breaking in

He even stopped hiding within the walls during the day and instead spent 24/7 right next to you

You questioned his sudden change in behavior

He told you he could feel someone watching you two

He could tell that you weren't really alone anymore

This freaked you out a bit

Brahms may be childish, but he's not stupid

You began to trust his word a bit more after that

It wasn't until one day that you decide to slip out of the house for a couple minutes

Brahms refused to let you outside or to even open a window the past few weeks, and this was beginning to wear on you

The cool air immediately calmed you down, and you began to question what he was so worried about in the first place

But right as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a branch snap beside you

You immediately turned and saw a masked man standing there, his height towering over you

He had a massive blade in his hand that sent a shiver down your spine

In that moment, you knew you should have listened to Brahms

You turned to run, but the Slasher was faster

He grabbed you by the jaw and turned you towards him, forcing you to look at him

To your surprise, his grip loosened slightly as he began to rub his thumb along your cheek

The feeling was familiar in a way to what Brahms would do sometimes

But that didn't make the moment any less terrifying

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he kept a firm hold on you

Just when you were about to call out for Brahms, the Slasher was slammed to the ground

You could see Brahms and the Slasher in a tussle, rolling around in the dirt while the sound of hard hits and cracking knuckles echoed throughout the quiet forest

You were worried for Brahms since the other Slasher was just as tall and strong as he was

But to your surprise, Brahms got the upper hand

He slammed his fist over and over again onto the man's mask, causing it to crack and splinter into his skin

This distracted him for just long enough that Brahms could grab a large rock, forcing it straight into the man's forehead

All movement ceased, and Brahms sat there, breathing heavily

When he finally turned to you, you slowly walked over to make sure he was okay

Before you could even say a word, Brahms had you pinned to a tree

His hands snaked along your waist as he pulled you flush against him

His lips were on yours in a hurry, his kisses hungrier than you had ever felt them before

He'll most definitely lock you back inside the house for the foreseeable future after this, but at least for now, you can just relish in his possessiveness and desire

#slashers x reader #slashers #slashers preference #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slasher movies #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire headcanon

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pearl-nouveau · 9 months ago

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A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not.

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life.

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become.

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal.

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain.

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you.

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing.

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it.

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor...

Strong boys, they said.

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would.

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me.

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long.

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?"

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization.

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me.

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival.

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time.

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was.

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me.

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me.

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was.

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?"

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity."

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?"

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort.

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children."

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders.

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day.

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes.

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles.

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen.

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights.

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head.

"Lost in thought?"

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of."

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all.

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled.

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please."

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice.

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me.

#hotd #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark oneshot #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark fanfiction

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russo-woso · 20 days ago

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New feelings || Aggie Beever-Jones x reader

Request + Request | Masterlist

Warning smut 18+, strap on, breeding kink, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus

Summary Some new feelings arise when you see Aggie with a baby

“Oh, hi.” Aggie cooed as she took the fans baby in her arms. “How old is he?”

“Three months. We decided it was time for him to see Chelsea play for the first time.” The fan responded

You continued to watch Aggie with the baby, your stomach doing flips as she cradled the baby so gently.

You’d been saying Aggie since the Under 17 England camps and the talk of your future had come up many times before - the two of you dreaming of children with each other - but you’d never actually seen Aggie with a baby.

You quickly walked through the tunnel and into the changing rooms, trying to think of something other than Aggie with the baby but it was impossible.

“Hiya, love. You played so well today.” Aggie said, her hands coming to rest on your ass as she kissed you. “I just met the cutest little fella. He was so small.”

“I saw.” You said, your cheeks reddened as you imagined Aggie with a baby - your baby.

“Oh, that was quite a reaction.” Again smirked, gripping your hips as you hid your face in embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Aggie…” you whined, hiding your face in her neck.

“What’s going through your head, darling?”

“You with the baby made me think things.” You revealed, Aggie knowing what you meant.

“Did it now?” Aggie laughed

“Please, just forget it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, I’m not forgetting this, darlin’. Try get some sleep on the coach because we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Just like Aggie said, you were in for a long night.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you knew what was going to happen.

Aggie had dropped the bags, before pushing you against the wall, her hands on your hips as she kissed you deeply.

“When you saw me with the baby, did you think about us having a baby?” Aggie asked, the two of you breathless from the kiss.

You nodded before taking a deep breath.

“I also thought about you trying to get me pregnant.” You said with a smirk, Aggie bringing you back into a kiss.

“Fuck, I know I cant but tonight I’m gonna try my hardest.” Aggie told you, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

You may have crashed into a few things on the way there but you had bigger things on your mind.

“Take your shirt off, baby.” Aggie said and you did, leaving you in your bra.

Aggie lips immediately connected to your upper left breast where the lace of your bra sat.

She sucked harshly, marking you - marking what’s hers.

You lifted yourself onto your forearms so Aggie could reach your back, undoing your bra with expertise.

You let it fall off you as she threw it to one side.

Her tongue immediately ran over your hardened nipple.

She sucked gently as you squirmed under her.

Her fingers came to play with your other nipple, pinching and pulling at it.

Your back arched as she kissed down your chest, getting closer and closer to where you needed her.

“Gonna make you a mummy tonight.” Aggie whispered against your pussy as you let out a breathy moan.

Her tongue ran through your folds as she lapped gently at them.

She moaned helplessly as she tasted you.

“Fuck.” You muttered as her tongue flicked at your clit. “Feels so good, Aggie.”

She gripped your thighs to stop you from squirming.

“Aggie.” You moaned, pulling at her hair as you felt your pleasure building.

She continued to lap at your pussy, before sucking at your clit.

“Aggie, baby…”

“Close, darling?”

“So close. Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You begged

Aggie continued sucking at you clit but just as you were about to reach your high, she pulled away leaving you shocked and desperate.

“Aggie!” You whined, throwing your head back in frustration.

“Sit in front of the mirror for me.” Aggie said.

You gave her a confused look, moving to fit in front of the mirror you had on your wardrobe that faced the bed.

Aggie came and sat behind you, he hands spreading your legs revealing your soaked pussy in the mirror.

Her fingers travelled to your clit as she rubbed it gently.

You tilted your head so it rested against her shoulder, small whimpers leaving your mouth at the sensitivity.

“Look at the mess you’re making, darling. Making a mess for me.” Aggie whispered in your ear as she pushed her middle finger into your soaked core.

Your back arched away from her chest at the action.

She pumped her finger into and out, as she sucked at your neck.

“Look in the mirror.”

You obeyed her command, looking at the mess you were making on her fingers.

She thrusted in and out with pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Fuck, Aggie, I’m gonna cum already.” You warned her, desperate to come.

“You can cum for me, darling. Cum on my fingers for me.”

You threw your head back against her as you came, a cry leaving your mouth as your pussy tightened around her fingers.

“Such a good girl for me. Gonna be an even better girl and gonna take my dick. Gonna let me make you a mummy.” Aggie said, whispering the last bit in your ear.

The words itself made you moan.

“Please make me a mummy. Let me have your baby.”

Aggie grabbed the strap and put it on herself, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in.

You’d taken it many a times before but this felt different.

Your eyes shut as you felt Aggie bury the strap in you.

“Such a good girl.” She cooed, rubbing your clit to take away the sting.

She slowly moved in and out, stretching you out gently.

She had no issue moving in and out, your previous orgasm having made you dripping.

“Fuck.” You moaned, the feeling overwhelming as you clawed at Aggie’s back.

“I know, love.”

She started moving quicker, your body squirming as she thrusted in and out of you.

“Feels good.” You managed to say through moans.

“I’m gonna cum in you, love. Gonna make you a mummy. You’re gonna carry my baby. God you’d look so gorgeous with my baby.”

The feeling of her cock pounding into you along with her words made you closer to your impending orgasm.

She grabbed your legs, spreading them even further as she pounded into you.

You cried out as she reached the deepest part of your pussy.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, please make me a mummy. Aggie, let me have your baby. Fuck I’m coming!” You babbled as you pulled her into you, her hips relentlessly pounding into you.

A wave of pleasure ran through you as clear liquid soaked the sheets and Aggie’s torso.

“Fuck, baby. You squirted.” Aggie muttered, looking at the strap that was buried inside you.

You hummed, too overwhelmed and tired to speak.

“Oh, love. Do you want me to get you anything? Water? A snack? Do you want me to run you a bath?” Aggie asked, having pulled the strap out of you and taking it off herself.

“I just want cuddles.”

“Okay, come on then.”

Aggie laid down, pulling you onto her chest as you listened to her heartbeat.

Although you were definitely too young for a baby, you knew one day, Aggie would make you a mummy.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #woso smut #aggie beever jones

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moonyswolfie · 25 days ago

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The Prophecy

This is the first time I write a James x reader fic and honestly, it might be my favourite piece so far. I also could not help including some fluffy Wolfstar.

TW: mentions of the prophecy announcing Jily's doom

Pairing: James Potter x Seer!reader

Masterlist

The gift of Prophecy is not for the faint of heart. While the idea of glimpsing the future may appeal to some, they often disregard the fact that said future may not be as happy as they expect it to be. Tragedy is inevitable, after all.

Some may argue that the future is never set in stone and it can change at any given moment. And it is true, but would the changes be for better or for worse?

Ever since you discovered your affinity for Divination in your third year at Hogwarts, it was like something unlocked in your mind. That’s when the visions started. It was slow at first, one every few months, but the number increased over time and here you were, three years later, seated at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, shuffling your Tarot cards in order to make sense of your latest vision. Your dream interpretation notes were scattered next to your half empty plate and a piece of parchment and quill had your undivided attention at the moment.

The Fool.

Merlin, could this deciphering process be any more frustrating?

You hated that card with your whole being. It was perhaps the most vague out of the whole deck and it never really told you anything, especially when it came alone.

You shuffled again.

Nine of Swords.

This time you couldn’t hold back the eye roll. Nightmares. Well, no shit. This particular piece of the future did indeed come to you in a nightmare, but it was very fragmented and it did not make a lot of sense on its own.

Hence why you were furiously trying to decipher it.

There were times when you could have sworn the deck was working against you and either stating the obvious or giving you the most useless information possible. You were a firm believer that Tarot cards, while an instrument, had a will of their own and the particular deck you decided to use today was your most stubborn one.

You should have gone with the Rune stones or even your pendulum. You would have had more answers by now.

Pendulum work was not the same as Tarot readings. The crystal was more precise, but the downside was that it took you a lot longer, seeing as it could only offer ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ answers.

You made it a habit, over the years, to combine the two. When the vision was particularly odd or even a bit eerie, you tried to get a better idea with the cards, untangle the emotional part with the Rune stones and finish with the pendulum that would guide you towards a clearer image.

This morning, however, it felt as if you would need a whole entire miracle to work it out.

“Good morning, love” the gruff voice of your very tired best friend snapped you out of your mental rant.

“Good morning” you mumble back, not yet looking up from the levitating deck of cards that throws another one at you forcefully, as if out of spite.

Ten of Cups.

Family.

That was it, you were officially going to go crazy. You knew that there was a deeper meaning hidden beneath the order and combination, the fact that none came out reversed and, of course, the Numerology. But your brain was not cooperating at the moment and it felt like your intuition took an early vacation because the cards felt empty. For all you knew, they might not even be correct and Peeves was just fucking with you bright and early in the morning.

With a defeated sigh, you lift your head and give James a smile as he takes his seat next to you, a brow raised and a bemused smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t start” you warn, anticipating his awful jokes at the expense of your serious interpretations that he believes to be useless in the long run.

He raises his arms in surrender.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“I just don’t understand why you exhaust yourself trying to make sense of these. You know as well as I do that barely a few are ever about you personally. And it’s not like you could warn every single person you see visions of.”

He has a point, you know he does, but what would it say about you if you didn’t even try?

Probably that you would be better rested and less snarky, but that was besides the point.

“This one felt personal” you try to argue only to be met with a look that betrays exactly how many times he heard you say that.

You clear out your deck of cards and the notes and books still open around you, placing everything carefully back in your school bag as James takes his plate off the table and fills it with everything in sight. The rest of the Marauders joined you in the meantime, all of them appearing to be in different states of exhaustion.

“Well good morning to you too, sleeping beauties. Rough night?”

Your teasing was answered by Sirius who let out the most dramatic groan as he leaned his forehead against his boyfriend’s shoulder, as if his mere presence at the breakfast table instead of still being in his bed and snuggling Remus was the greatest pain he’s ever had to endure. Remus did not bat an eye at his dramatics, however, more than used to Sirius’ behaviour by now.

You turn to James, brow raised in a silent question, but he just shook his head.

“It’s too early, darling” he muttered and continued eating “what did you dream about?”

That catches the attention of the other two boys and they turn curious eyes on you. Listening to you talk about dreams and visions you’ve had was not uncommon and they were always very invested in what you saw versus the reading that came after, explaining everything. It was like their own little daily puzzle to piece together before you gave them the correct answer.

“It…I don’t know, exactly. I only saw pieces and it looked as if they were years from now and from each other. I think it has to do with a family being torn apart, if my reading is to be correct. And something about nightmares, but truthfully, that could be about a different thing. Maybe the pieces are not even related” you shrug and look down, blushing faintly under the boys’ gaze.

Remus frowns and puts his fork down.

“What did you see, exactly?”

“A flash of magic, there was a scream, someone running up some stairs, a Dementor…and I felt this inexplicable coldness when I woke up, as if the creature left its mark in the real world, somehow.”

You shake your head, hoping to also shake this confusion and the images away. You were used to tragedy and whatnot, but the Dementors were where you drew the line. Those nightmarish beasts belonged far away from this school. If it were up to you, a world apart would not be far enough.

Remus hums, considering your words.

“It seems like you have an idea about the premonition already.”

You sigh and throw the deck of cards a disapproving look.

“I would have a better idea if those spiteful motherfuckers didn’t thrive in times of torture. Next Saturday cannot come faster.”

Your reply causes Sirius to bark out a laugh and Remus to let out a wounded whine. You almost chuckle, realizing your mistake, but stop in time as to not upset your other best friend further.

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s nothing personal. I just really need the full moon to cleanse my cards and crystals and…well everything, I guess.”

James frowns and extends a hand to pick up the cards, but you slap it away at the last moment. He knows better than to touch anything you use for Divination.

“Why not cleanse them in the sunlight? And why am I never allowed to touch anything?”

His childish whine caused you to roll your eyes so far back that you were sure you saw your brain.

“The sunlight is usually used for charging, whereas the moonlight is reserved for cleansing. Except these – you lift the cards – don’t like the sunlight and lose all their energy as if in protest. And for the millionth time, Jamie, you cannot touch them because you will leave your energetic fingerprint all over the objects that are programmed to answer to me and me alone. Your energy would confuse them and they would stop working properly. I’m struggling with them as it is, don’t make it any harder, please.”

“Why don’t you use the other deck?”

Lily’s voice catches you off guard because one, she never speaks before breakfast and two, you didn’t realize she was paying attention to the conversation happening around her.

You let out a sigh and throw James a pointed look.

“Because Prongs here decided that he was bored waiting for me one day after class and attempted a love reading. And not only did he mess up that deck, he also managed to lose a few cards.”

Lily laughed, soon joined by Sirius and Remus, who shook his head and returned to his now cold breakfast.

“And what did the cards have to say?”

Peter, the last of the Marauders who managed to remain unnoticed until now, inquired, genuinely absorbed by the exchange. You felt a little guilty for not noticing him sooner and promised yourself to be more aware of your surroundings from now on.

James answered him, a proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“That I already found the love of my life, but the timing is not right, so I have to wait a little longer.”

To say that everyone is shocked would be an understatement. Remus stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth, Sirius regarded his best friend as if he suddenly grew an extra head and Lily cocked her head, awed but disbelieving at the same time.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightly.

“Stop lying to them. I had to step in and do the reading all over again with a different deck.”

“See, now that sounds more like the James we know” Lily mumbled between spoonfuls of porridge.

Fate had a way of taking everyone by surprise – even the ones who already had a glimpse of the tangled threads of future. One decision could lead to greatness, whilst another – no matter how similar – could be one’s downfall. One action can change the course of one’s life.

And such was the case of your relationship.

To say no one expected you and James to start dating in your seventh year at Hogwarts would be a lie. To say no one expected your relationship to actually last over the years would be closer to the truth.

Despite his years of infatuation with a certain redhead, Remus and Sirius had a bet going on regarding when he’ll finally realize that he’s been in love with you all this time and chasing Lily was a hopeless endeavour. The latter became obvious when her secret relationship with Mary was discovered, but the first part was still a work in progress.

It was the little things that gave his feelings away, but ironically, the two of you were completely blind to them, much to the bewilderment of your friends.

That is when they decided to meddle.

And thank Merlin they did, because your life could not be more perfect – married to the love of your life and waiting for your son’s first Hogwarts letter.

When James came downstairs this morning to prepare his coffee, he was met with the sight of you, seated at the dining table and shuffling a deck of Tarot cards. He smiled to himself as he took notice of the charmed steaming mug on the counter awaiting his arrival and moved silently to grab it and take a sip, careful as to not disturb your reading.

The levitating deck threw a card on the table and knocked the pot of ink next to your scattered parchment, managing to drench them in the black liquid.

Your groan of annoyance had James suppressing a chuckle, as he was fondly reminded of a similar scene that took place 15 years ago.

You were aware of his presence behind you. Of course you were, you were working with unstable magic, so you always had to be on your guard. But this, his lingering presence and silent watching has become a ritual over the years, one neither of you could start the day without.

“Don’t start” you warn, but instead of severity, you tone was full of love and fondness.

He raises his arms in surrender, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

You finally turn around in your seat, taking in the amused expression on your husband’s face. He placed the mug back on the counter and came behind you, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your temple.

“I know better than to say anything, my love.”

You laugh and shake your head, catching his hand and placing a kiss of your own on his knuckles.

“You sure do.”

It took a while to decipher the vision you had almost two decades ago, but you did. And you were right, it was personal, but you never shared it with your friends. There was no point in it, seeing as life (and your friends) had other plans for James and Lily.

Dumbledore called it a prophecy, but you were certain you only saw a possibility. The future is, after all, uncertain.

“I love you” you whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

His smile was so wide and so full of love, you were not sure where he stored this much happiness.

As he took a seat next to you, his lips met yours in a soft kiss, interrupted only by his equally quiet, but powerful confession.

“I love you too.”

#harry potter #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #harry potter fanfic #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #fluff #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #maraudersera #marauders fluff

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vantaeries · 1 year ago

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YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE : PICK A PILE

FIRST IMPRESSION VS AFTER THEY KNOW YOU

PILE 1 PILE 2

PILE 3 PILE 4

Hello everyone ! I'm Rin! I'm an intuitive tarot reader. It's been almost one and a half since I've been learning about tarot, divination and astrology so I decided to channel general reading for everyone! It's my first public reading ever, so hopefully you like it

Disclaimer : This is a general reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Remember, the energies can change from time to time. So pick wisely.

How to pick : Close your eyes, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Trust your intuition and choose a pile that you are most drawn to.

PILE 1

At first, they see you as a person they are willing to risk it all for. Anyone who doubts you, your FS is willing to go up against anyone for you. They see someone who is strong for learning from your past mistakes. Due to this, they see you as someone they somewhat fear. 'I want to know them, but what if they reject me? What if they misinterpret my intentions toward them?' They feel stuck. One moment they want to approach you, but then they are afraid to because you are intimidating to them.

After they get to know you better, they start to see you as someone who brings a lot of excitement into their life. They are obsessed and passionate about you! Don't be surprised if they start to become more flirtatious and clingy. Your presence brings a lot of transformative experiences and forces them to step out of their comfort zone or remain stuck in the past.

PILE 2

They think you're driven and hardworking, focused on your future. But because you're so into your work, they feel a bit distant from you and wonder if you're really right for them. Still, they're hopeful they can break down your walls and get to know you better.

As they learn more about you, they realize you're the one they've been searching for. You make their life feel magical, and they're falling for you even more. They start to see they misjudged you at first and want to take their time to be sure. They like you a lot, but they need a bit more time before committing fully. Until then, they see this relationship moving towards something serious, like getting engaged or married.

PILE 3

This person is clearly infatuated with you and sees you as their perfect match. However, they may place unrealistic expectations on you, causing you stress with their demands. They come across as somewhat obsessed with you, finding you incredibly attractive and wanting to exert control. Yet, you stand firm in your strength and maturity, refusing to be manipulated.

When they realize they can't easily sway you, they may begin to distance themselves and keep secrets. You don't need to rescue or change them; instead, show them your strength and worth. As they reflect on their mistakes and change for the better, they'll come to understand and appreciate you more deeply

PILE 4

They view you as an option among several others, still undecided on whether to approach you. Oh! They are a player. You are unapproachable to them because you are playing hard to get but it's just you want to enjoy your single phase. They don't have any strong feelings towards you until they learn more about you. It was your personality that made them attracted to you.

Your strong personality intrigues them, prompting a sense of urgency to pursue you before someone else does, possibly leading to impulsive decisions. It's possible this attraction is one-sided, as some of you may be content with your single status and not anticipate their advances, potentially resulting in rejection. Nonetheless, they're determined not to give up and will strive to impress you, especially in terms of financial achievements, hoping to change your perception of them. They feel insecure and jealous seeing you with others, fearing they may fall short of your standards, prompting them to work hard to improve themselves.

Take care y'all

#tarot reading #tarot #tarot community #free tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #tarotblr #divination #future spouse

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kitten4sannie · 11 months ago

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for love of the game (teaser)

pairing: rival team! wooyoung x rival! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, bsf fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

future tag warnings (may be subject to change): tobacco/vape usage, baseball lingo?? idk, nasty mean dom! wooyo, perverted soft dom! yuyu, subby! (tiny bit bratty) reader, light brat taming, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, biting/marking, tag teaming, manhandling, size kink, oral (giving), deep-throating, spit kink, finger sucking, hair tugging, nasty hate sex against some lockers, sloppy seconds, breeding kink, creampies, dumbification

w.c: 1.6k (so far) while this teaser is about 500?? words

a/n: i love a good sports au (despite my inability to play any) fhwhwh so i’ve decided to write a nasty lil baseball fic for you all~ the parasites told me to >:)) 🖤 so here’s a teaser!!! it’s a pretty big one hehe. and if you’d like to join this specific taglist (if you’re not on my general taglist) please click on the tiny heart at the bottom of the post :33 enjoyyy~~

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself.

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses.

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?”

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?”

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.”

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.”

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, until hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it past the playoffs.”

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago.

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face.

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites.” He chuckled to himself. “I bite too.”

Wooyoung hummed in response, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to the busy field, then back up to Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she? And she’ll let you hit right after the game, right?”

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the deep bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive, he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right?

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand on Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.”

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-induced determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?”

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to show Y/N just how disgusting I can get.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #wooyoung smut #yunho smut #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #kpop smut

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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A Lion's Folly (what may come)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: home

- Next part: the honest

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling

The towering cliffs of Casterly Rock loomed ahead, an imposing mass of stone and gold as the Lannister procession made its final approach. The air carried the scent of salt from the Sunset Sea, and the banners of House Lannister billowed in the wind, their crimson fabric vivid against the gray sky.

Jaime rode at the front, his posture rigid yet composed. He had spent so many years away from his childhood home that its sight stirred something uneasy within him. It was a strange feeling, to return not as the Kingslayer or member of the Kingsguard, but as the heir, as a future husband. The title felt unfamiliar, ill-fitting, but it was one he could not escape.

He stole a glance at you. You rode beside him, Winter padding alongside your horse with effortless grace. Your expression was unreadable, but Jaime could see the way your gaze swept over the towering fortress, assessing, measuring. He wondered what you thought of it—whether you saw it as another cage, another prison of stone.

Bronn, as usual, had little reverence for the occasion. “Well, isn’t this a sight?” he mused, letting out a low whistle. “Big, isn’t it? Almost makes the Red Keep look like a brothel.”

Jaime smirked. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly. The walls have ears.”

Bronn shrugged, adjusting his reins. “What do I care? I’m just here to make sure you don’t fall off your horse.”

Ahead, the great gates of Casterly Rock swung open, and a welcoming party stood at attention. At its head was Ser Kevan Lannister, his expression carefully composed as he surveyed the arriving group. He stepped forward as Jaime and the rest of the party dismounted.

“Welcome home, Jaime,” Kevan said, his tone steady, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “And welcome, Lady Stark.”

You inclined your head slightly, though your expression remained guarded.

Kevan’s gaze flickered to Winter, who had stationed himself protectively by your side, his blue eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings with keen intelligence. The men around Kevan shifted uneasily, their hands lingering near their swords as if the direwolf might decide to attack at any moment.

Jaime noted their nervous glances and smirked. “You’re all acting like you’ve never seen a direwolf before.”

Kevan exhaled through his nose. “Not this close,” he admitted. “And certainly not one this size.” His gaze drifted back to Winter, who huffed in response, his ears flicking forward.

“He won’t bite,” Bronn quipped from behind Jaime. “Not unless you give him a reason to.”

Kevan gave Bronn a withering look before turning back to Jaime. “Your father sent word ahead of your arrival. The Rock is prepared for your stay, and arrangements have been made for the wedding.”

Jaime forced a smile. “Of course they have.”

Kevan’s gaze flickered toward you again, his tone carefully neutral. “Lady Y/N, if you require anything, the servants will see to it. My wife, Dorna, has prepared suitable accommodations for you.”

You inclined your head again but said nothing, your fingers absently brushing against Winter’s fur as he pressed against your leg.

Jaime took the moment to step closer to Kevan, lowering his voice slightly. “How much of this was truly my father’s doing?”

Kevan’s expression didn’t change. “All of it.”

Jaime sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Of course.”

Kevan hesitated before adding, “Tywin expects everything to proceed without incident. You understand that, don’t you?”

Jaime’s smirk was laced with something bitter. “When have I ever caused an incident?”

Kevan gave him a knowing look but said nothing more.

From behind them, Bronn let out a dramatic sigh. “Are we going to stand around all day, or are we going inside? I could use a drink.”

Jaime chuckled despite himself and gestured toward the entrance. “Come, then. Let’s see what my dear father has in store for us.”

With that, the procession moved forward, the weight of Casterly Rock settling over you both like an unshakable shadow.

The great doors of Casterly Rock swung open, revealing the grandeur of the Lannister stronghold. The halls were immense, carved directly from the mountain itself, their golden hues reflecting the torchlight that lined the towering stone walls. The floors were polished marble, rich red-and-gold banners hanging from the arched ceilings. The air carried the faintest scent of the sea, mingling with the ever-present scent of burning wax and the cool dampness of the rock.

You stepped inside, your boots clicking against the smooth floor as your gaze swept over the cavernous hall. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming—the towering pillars, the intricate carvings, the wealth on display in every corner. It was nothing like Winterfell, nothing like home.

Reality settled on you like a crushing weight.

This was it.

This was your future.

No more trying to outrun it, no more hoping that some unforeseen twist of fate would change your course. You were in the heart of Lannister territory now, surrounded by their banners, their men, their legacy.

A gilded cage, no matter how grand.

Jaime walked a few paces ahead before slowing his steps, turning slightly as if sensing the shift in your posture. His green eyes flickered over your face, steady and observant, before he spoke, his voice quieter now.

"Feeling trapped already?"

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself before lifting your chin. "Should I not?"

Jaime studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he turned fully to face you. "I won’t lie to you," he said, his voice low, just for you. "This place can feel… heavy. Even for those born to it."

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. "And yet, you chose to bring me here."

He tilted his head, lips pressing into a faint smirk, though there was no mockery in his tone. "Would you rather be in the Dreadfort?"

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t answer.

Jaime exhaled, glancing around before stepping closer, lowering his voice again. "It’s not Winterfell, I know. And it never will be. But you are not a prisoner here, Y/N. No matter what my father might think."

You met his gaze, searching for any trace of deception. To your surprise, you found none.

Before you could respond, Kevan cleared his throat, reminding you both of the watching eyes. "Come," he said. "Your chambers have been prepared."

Jaime straightened, his composure sliding back into place as he gestured forward. "After you, my lady."

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, then stepped forward, your spine straight, your expression schooled into something unreadable. Winter padded close to your side, his presence a grounding force as you followed the Lannisters deeper into the Rock.

Jaime watched you for a moment longer before falling into step beside you, his smirk fading as something else settled in his chest—something uncomfortably close to guilt.

For a moment, he wondered if he had truly saved you from Roose Bolton, or merely delivered you into another kind of prison.

The halls of Casterly Rock were quieter at night, though they never truly slept. Jaime made his way toward his uncle’s chambers. He had spent the past hours dealing with the formalities of his arrival, speaking to stewards, acknowledging the gathered household, and enduring the weight of his new responsibilities.

And now, as the evening stretched on, his mind returned to the promise he had made.

Kevan Lannister’s study was lit by a handful of candles, the scent of parchment, ink, and aged leather heavy in the air. A map of the Westerlands lay sprawled across the table, flanked by letters, ledgers, and Tywin’s meticulous correspondence.

Kevan sat at the desk, straight-backed as always, his expression calm but unreadable as he set aside a scroll and gestured for Jaime to take a seat across from him. A servant poured them both goblets of wine before silently departing, leaving the two Lannisters alone.

Jaime leaned back in his chair, swirling the deep red liquid in his cup before speaking. “So, Uncle, what grand tasks await me? Running the mines? Overseeing tax disputes? Or does father have something more humiliating planned?”

Kevan exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’ll be overseeing much of the Rock’s administration, but we will start with matters of trade and military reports. Your father has already outlined the key duties expected of you. I trust you received his letters.”

Jaime smirked. “Oh, I received them. Quite a few, in fact. I could barely keep up with the ink.”

Kevan ignored the remark, instead tapping a finger against the map. “We have shipments that need securing along Lannisport. Ironborn raids have grown bolder near Kayce. We need to reinforce our coastal defenses.”

Jaime listened with half an ear, his fingers drumming against the table. He would handle these matters—he wasn’t incompetent, despite what some may think—but this wasn’t what had been pressing on his mind since they arrived.

After a moment, he leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. “And what of the North?”

Kevan raised an eyebrow. “What of it?”

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine before setting the goblet down. “Robb Stark. What does father plan for him now that the wedding at the Twins has been canceled?”

Kevan’s face remained carefully neutral, but the way he set down his quill with measured precision told Jaime that he had struck upon something significant.

“That,” Kevan said, “is no longer a concern of yours.”

Jaime scoffed, sitting back in his chair. “No longer a concern? I think it is. Considering I stole his sister from Roose Bolton, I imagine that changes quite a few things.”

Kevan studied him for a long moment before sighing. “If you must know, your father and Lord Bolton have made new arrangements.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened slightly. “What kind of arrangements?”

Kevan hesitated. “Robb Stark still refuses to bend the knee. He marches south, despite knowing he has no allies left. The Riverlords are fractured, and the Freys will not support him after he dishonored their house. Your father has no intention of letting this war drag on any further.”

Jaime’s fingers curled around the armrest of his chair. “Meaning what?”

Kevan met his gaze evenly. “Meaning Tywin and Roose are ensuring it ends swiftly. Bolton has positioned himself in such a way that he can bring the boy down without the need for drawn-out battles. And when it’s over, the North will be under Bolton’s control.”

A cold weight settled in Jaime’s stomach. “And Robb?”

Kevan did not answer immediately, and that silence spoke volumes.

Jaime exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw. “Roose means to kill him.”

Kevan’s voice was flat. “He means to win.”

Jaime let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course. And what of the girl? What of Y/N?”

Kevan’s expression remained impassive. “She is to marry you. That was the trade your father made. If you had not taken her from Roose, she would have been his bride, and the Starks would have fallen just the same.”

Jaime’s grip tightened around the goblet, his thoughts racing.

“So, the Young Wolf rides toward his death,” Jaime murmured, staring into his wine. “And there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

Kevan did not respond, but he didn’t need to. The pieces were already falling into place, and Jaime could see the end of the game clearly now.

His father had already won.

Jaime leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Does she know?”

Kevan sighed. “No. And there is no reason for her to.”

Jaime scoffed, shaking his head. “No reason? You truly think she won’t suspect? She’s not an idiot, Kevan. She knows there’s a plan in motion. She asked me about it on the way here.”

Kevan regarded him carefully. “And what did you tell her?”

Jaime exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. “That I didn’t know. Which, until now, was true.”

Kevan’s gaze was steady. “Then I suggest you keep it that way.”

Jaime stared at his uncle for a long moment before letting out a slow breath. “Right.”

The conversation weighed on him as he finished his wine, his thoughts circling back to you. He had made a promise—to protect your family where he could, to do something to ensure you weren’t completely swallowed by his father’s schemes.

But now, with Robb Stark’s fate all but sealed, Jaime realized he had no idea how to keep that promise.

And that thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Servants bustled about the grand halls, their footsteps soft against the polished marble floors as they prepared for the day ahead. The fortress was awake, its presence as commanding as the lion that adorned its banners.

You stood near one of those great windows, gazing out at the expanse of the Sunset Sea. The waves crashed against the cliffs below, their endless movement soothing in a way the towering walls of Casterly Rock were not. This place was nothing like Winterfell—the air lacked the crispness of the North, the stone lacked the warmth of home. And yet, this was where you were meant to stay.

A soft clearing of the throat made you turn. Lady Dorna Lannister stood before you, her hands clasped in front of her. She was a striking woman, regal in bearing, with bright, intelligent eyes that reminded you she was no mere noblewoman but the wife of Kevan Lannister—a woman well-versed in the expectations of courtly life.

“Lady Y/N,” she greeted, inclining her head slightly. “I trust you rested well.”

You gave her a measured look, your tone neutral. “Well enough.”

She smiled faintly, as if she had expected that response. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

You followed her as she led you through the halls, her pace unhurried but purposeful. “As the future Lady of Casterly Rock, there are certain expectations placed upon you,” she began. “It is my duty to ensure you understand them.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. “I imagine my duties won’t be too different from what was expected of me at Winterfell.”

Lady Dorna arched an elegant brow. “Perhaps, but the Rock is not Winterfell. Here, you must command not just respect, but loyalty. The Lannisters do not rule through kindness alone.”

You glanced around the grand halls, the wealth of the Lannisters evident in every gilded detail. “No,” you murmured. “I imagine they don’t.”

Lady Dorna studied you for a moment before continuing. “You will be expected to oversee the daily running of the keep. The servants, the household, the management of provisions. The mines may be the source of our wealth, but a poorly run household can make even the richest of lords suffer.”

You nodded, though the thought of taking on such responsibilities in a place that still felt foreign to you was daunting.

“There are also matters of decorum,” Lady Dorna added, her tone taking on a sharper edge. “The Lannisters hold themselves to a standard. You will be watched, judged. You must carry yourself as befits the wife of the Warden of the West.”

You met her gaze evenly. “You mean I must behave as Tywin Lannister sees fit.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her features. “You are not wrong.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, a flare of defiance sparking in your chest. “I am not some docile creature to be tamed.”

Lady Dorna’s lips curved into something resembling approval. “No, you are not. And that may serve you well. But understand this—strength is not always about fighting. Sometimes, survival is the greatest strength of all.”

You stared at her, uncertain whether she was warning you or advising you.

She gestured for you to follow as she continued walking. “There will also be duties outside the household. The Lannisters command many bannermen, and their loyalty must be maintained. You will be expected to attend councils, to play the role of diplomat when necessary.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged, your voice quiet but firm.

Lady Dorna stopped and turned to face you fully. “Then you will make enemies of powerful men. And that is not a battle you can win, my lady.”

The weight of her words settled heavily on you. It was not a threat, not exactly. But it was a warning. A reminder that this was not the North. You were no longer a Stark in Winterfell. You were surrounded by Lannisters, by those who saw marriage not as a union but as a transaction, a means to consolidate power.

Lady Dorna watched as you absorbed this, then softened slightly. “It is not all politics,” she said. “You will have time to make your place here. To find those who will stand by you. Even among lions, allies can be found.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “And what of Jaime?”

Lady Dorna tilted her head, studying you. “What of him?”

You hesitated, then asked, “What role does he expect me to play?”

A knowing smile tugged at her lips. “That, my dear, is something only he can answer.”

The conversation lingered between you as the great halls stretched on ahead. Casterly Rock was vast, imposing, but it was no longer just the seat of House Lannister—it was your future.

And whether you liked it or not, you had no choice but to face it.

The evening air in Casterly Rock was crisp, the distant roar of the Sunset Sea crashing against the cliffs below. A few torches burned along the stone balcony where Jaime sat with Bronn, a jug of wine between them. The fortress was quieter now, its halls less imposing under the cover of night, but the weight of what Jaime had learned still pressed heavily on his mind.

Bronn leaned back against the stone railing, taking a long sip from his goblet before exhaling contentedly. “You know, for all the gold stuffed into this place, it’s got a real gloom about it. Doesn’t feel like a home.”

Jaime smirked, swirling his own wine absently. “That’s because it isn’t. Not really.”

Bronn raised a brow. “Not to you, maybe. But you’ll be Lord of the Rock soon enough. Got yourself a fine Stark bride, a title, and all the gold you could ever piss away. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Jaime scoffed, setting his goblet down. “You think I want this?”

Bronn smirked. “You think I care?”

Jaime let out a slow breath, running his fingers through his hair. His golden hand rested on his knee, heavier than usual. “Tywin’s making his final moves,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now.

Bronn lifted a brow, intrigued but cautious. “Go on.”

Jaime hesitated before leaning forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Robb Stark is still marching south. My father and Roose Bolton have no intention of letting him reach his goal.”

Bronn frowned. “I thought that whole bloody wedding business was off after you stole the girl from The Leech Lord.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened. “So did I.”

Bronn took another sip of wine, watching Jaime carefully. “And?”

“And it doesn’t matter,” Jaime said bitterly. “My father doesn’t let loose ends slip through his fingers. The Starks were always meant to fall. Roose is in a position to strike, and my father has already ensured that the right doors are open.”

Bronn let out a low whistle. “So, that’s it then? The Young Wolf gets slaughtered, Bolton takes the North, and your old man gets another war wrapped up neatly with a golden bow?”

Jaime’s grip tightened on his goblet. “Something like that.”

Bronn chuckled, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were actually starting to care about the little Stark girl.”

Jaime’s eyes snapped to him, sharp and defensive. “This isn’t about her.”

Bronn smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “No? Because it sure as shit seems like it is. She’s the one who made you start asking questions, isn’t she?”

Jaime exhaled, rubbing his temple. “She asked me about it before we left King’s Landing. She already knew something was being planned. I told her I didn’t know anything.”

“And now you do.”

Jaime nodded slowly, staring into his wine. “Now I do.”

Bronn studied him for a moment before leaning back again. “Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

Jaime scoffed. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I do,” Bronn said with a grin. “You’re thinking about what happens when she finds out. And she will find out. If she already suspected, then she’ll be watching, listening. And you—” Bronn pointed at him with his goblet, “—you’re in love with your little Stark bride, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

Jaime shot him a glare. “I am not.”

Bronn laughed. “Right, and I’m a bloody septon. Face it, Jaime, you’re torn between keeping your father happy and keeping that girl from gutting you in your sleep.”

Jaime didn’t respond, his jaw tightening.

Bronn sighed, finishing the rest of his wine. “So what’s the plan, then? You gonna stop it? Save the noble Young Wolf and his army? If so, that’s a real piss-poor way to keep Tywin in your good graces.”

Jaime closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “I don’t know what the plan is. But I do know that I can’t just sit by and do nothing.”

Bronn tilted his head, considering him. “You know what I think?”

Jaime exhaled. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Bronn leaned forward, his grin widening. “I think you’re finally growing a conscience. A bit late, but better than never.”

Jaime scowled but said nothing.

Bronn stretched, yawning as he placed his goblet down. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I expect to be rewarded for all this. Gold is nice, but the stuff I know? The things I hear? That needs to be secured with something bigger.”

Jaime shot him a look. “You want a castle.”

Bronn grinned. “Aye. A nice one. With a good view and a decent bit of land. Maybe even a lady wife, if she’s got the right temperament.”

Jaime chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t aim low, do you?”

Bronn smirked, standing and adjusting his belt. “No point in that. You should know—after all, you’re the one aiming for the impossible.”

Jaime sighed, leaning back against his chair as Bronn walked away, his laughter still echoing through the halls.

Jaime sat there long after his companion had gone, the weight of what he had learned settling over him like a cloak. He had always been Tywin Lannister’s son, always followed the course set for him. But now, he wondered if he was capable of choosing a different path.

And if he did—what the cost would be.

The corridors of Casterly Rock were quiet at this hour. Jaime walked with a measured pace, his mind burdened with the weight of unspoken truths. He had thought about it all evening, running over the words in his mind, trying to find a way to tell you what he had learned about your brother. But every time he came close to forming the words, he saw his father’s face in his mind—stern, commanding, absolute.

And so, instead of turning toward his own chambers, Jaime found himself stopping before yours.

The guards stationed outside glanced at him before stepping aside without question. They had been given their orders—he was to have unrestricted access to you. The thought sat uneasily in his stomach. He wasn’t here to exercise power over you, but to offer something he wasn’t sure you would accept.

He knocked lightly, then opened the door without waiting for a reply.

You were seated by the window, your long hair loose over your shoulders, illuminated by the silver glow of the moonlight. Your eyes flickered toward him, wary but unsurprised.

“What do you want, Lannister?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm.

Jaime smirked faintly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “A simple goodnight would suffice.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. “And to see if you needed anything.”

Your gaze lingered on him, studying him, weighing the intent behind his words. “That depends,” you said at last, standing from your chair. “Do you actually care? Or is this just another duty expected of you?”

Jaime exhaled slowly, stepping further into the room. “Would you believe me if I said both?”

You turned fully toward him, arms crossing over your chest. “I suppose that’s the best I’ll get from a Lannister.”

Jaime let out a soft chuckle, though there was little humor in it. “I never claimed to be anything else.”

A silence stretched between you, the tension thick, unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Jaime wanted to tell you, wanted to warn you, but the weight of his family’s legacy pressed against his chest. He couldn’t betray his father—not yet.

So instead, he shifted, grasping for something—anything—to deflect. “Your direwolf,” he said suddenly. “I hear you’ve been complaining about his living arrangements.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “I wouldn’t call it complaining. More like voicing my irritation.”

Jaime smirked. “And what exactly is irritating you?”

You sighed, stepping toward the edge of the bed, your fingers brushing against the silk sheets absentmindedly. “He’s being kept in the courtyard like some common dog. He’s not a pet, Lannister. He’s my family.”

Jaime tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly. “You truly see him that way?”

You shot him a sharp look. “Do you not?”

Jaime exhaled, considering your words. “I suppose I’ve never had anything… anyone that loyal before.”

You studied him for a long moment, something flickering in your expression, but you didn’t press. Instead, you looked toward the window. “I just don’t want him caged. Not like me.”

Jaime’s chest tightened at your words, at the quiet vulnerability beneath them. He stepped closer, his voice softer now. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You turned back toward him, surprised by his words, but Jaime only met your gaze steadily.

For the first time since arriving at the Rock, something between you shifted. The unease remained, but it was different now—less about defiance, more about something unspoken, something neither of you could quite name.

Jaime took another step forward, close enough now that he could see the flicker of candlelight reflected in your eyes. His gaze dropped, just briefly, to your lips. He wasn’t sure which one of you moved first, but the space between you vanished, the air growing warmer, heavier.

Then, just as he leaned in, you turned your head at the last moment, your breath brushing against his cheek instead.

“Goodnight, Jaime,” you whispered.

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest.

Slowly, he stepped back, exhaling through his nose. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.

As he walked back to his chambers, his mind was a war of conflicting thoughts. He had wanted to tell you the truth, to warn you of what was coming—but instead, he had let the moment slip away, distracted by something he hadn’t expected to want.

Jaime Lannister wasn’t sure what frightened him more now—his father’s wrath or the way his heart had nearly betrayed him in that room.

168 notes · View notes

larluce · 5 months ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

(My apologies in advance, I couldn't write the smut, but I know exactly how it went, so you may ask me any questions related to their first time in the comments)

Merlin is no strange to waking up next to Arthur. He's been sleeping in his bed for over a week after all. They also slept next to each other back in the farm, back in Ealdor and everytime they camped outside.

Waking up curled up together after they have given theirselfs to one another, in body and soul, is an entire different experience. He wakes up with a smile plastered on his face. He feels like in a dream, floating, but also like falling. It's the kind of feeling is so overwhelming it's painful, but it's painfully pleasant.

Arthur's arms are around him, his naked chest against his back. Merlin turns in his arms slowly, needing to see him, needing to make sure that it happened, that this is real. The pain in his lower back as he moves is enough to confirm it though.

Merlin: (groans in pain)

Arthur: (opens his eyes slowly and then smiles) Hey.

Merlin: Don't "hey" me. You destroyed me!

Arthur: (chuckles) I don't recall you complaining. In fact, I clearly remember you constantly crying for more.

Merlin: Shut up!

Arthur: And changing positions was not my idea.

Merlin: I just wanted to be more comfortable!

Arthur: I'm just saying, I wanted to be gentle and you didn't let me.

Merlin: Yeah, because I totally forced you. My mistake. (tries to get up, but Arthur's arms are steel around him) Arthur.

Arthur: (eyes closed) Uhm?

Merlin: I have to get your breakfast.

Arthur: Let someone else do it.

Merlin: (chuckles) How can I tell someone else to do it if stay here?

Arthur: Then get it later.

Merlin: I also have chores to do.

Arthur: No, I give you the day off. Sleep.

Merlin: Gaius may need me.

Arthur: Sleep.

Merlin: (smiling) Alright.

Merlin wishes he could stay like this forever. Eventually though, Merlin has to get up and Arthur too.

Merlin slightly limping around the castle doesn't go unnoticed to anybody, nor Arthur smug smile everytime he catches Merlin limping. Already used to the rumors and the eyes on him, Merlin can't mind less though.

It turns out he should have.

In Arthur's chambers. Leon knocks on the door, but no one answers, so he enters.

Leon: (entering) Your highness, I'm sorry for entering like this but- (notices no one is there) He must still be in the meeting with the king. (notices there are flowers petals on the floor and spots a chemise on the floor) ... what? (walks to it and picks it up. Sighs in dissapointment) So the rumors are true.

Merlin: (enters)

Leon: (Quickly hides the chemise behind his back)

Merlin: Leon? What are you doing here?

Leon: I-I was looking for the Prince.

Merlin: (rolls his eyes) He's still discussing with Uther how to execute Kendrick for what he attempted to do to Morgana, or rather dicussing ways to torture him before the execution. They'll probably just let Morgana decide his punishment in the end. (notices Leon is holding something behind his back) What do you have there?

Leon: (too quickly) Nothing! 😅

Merlin: ... Okay? Normally I would run around you until you show me, but, I'm too sore and tired for that. (about to start tidying up the room)

Leon: What are you doing?

Merlin: Cleaning?

Leon: Didn't Arthur give you the day off?

Merlin: He did, but knowing him he'll probably just let this room dirty and messy until tomorrow, so I rather do it at once before it accumulates.

Leon: I'll call other sevants to do it!

Merlin: Is not really a problem-

Leon: I insist! You rarely have a day off, you should enjoy it as much as you can.

Merlin: (unsure) Arthur doesn't like other servants cleaning his chambers.

Leon: He doesn't have to find out it wasn't you. And if he does, I'll tell him it was my idea. Go enjoy your free day, you deserve it.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Leon! You are such a good friend. (leaves)

Leon: (sighs in relief, but also feels bad) No, I'm not a good friend... (searches around the room for whatever thing could give away Arthur's affair, while he talks to himself) He's been limping since this morning, but if Arthur slept with this lady last night, then when...or could it be... (opens his eyes wide) WAS HE WITH BOTH?! 😨

Time skip. In the stables.

Princess: (neighs happily as he watches Merlin aproaching)

Merlin: Princess! (caresses her head) How's my Baby Plum doing? Have they been feeding you well? I missed you so much! (joins their heads fondly)

Lancelot: (who was close by, aproaches) Seriously, how do you do it? She's only ever this sweet with you.

Merlin: I don't know. Maybe is my weird connection to nature.

Lancelot: (pauses) It was the trees who warned you about the bandits, wasn't it? Back in the woods.

Merlin: (nods) Their voices are... stronger everyday. It's not bad, just... weird. Sometimes they talk to me as if...

Lacelot: As if what?

Merlin: As if I was one of them.

Knight x: (passing by) Lowering your standars now that the Prince replaced you, I see.

Merlin: What?

Knight x: (just laughs and leaves)

Merlin: (turns to Lancelot) What is he talking about?

Lancelot: (nervous) Uh...

Merlin: (crosses his arms) Lance, what is he talking about? 😑

Lancelot: Well... you know how you and Arthur weren't exactly discret when you showed affection to one another yesterday?

Merlin: Yes, we are always like that.

Lancelot: Yeah, the problem is that yesterday you weren't you. You were Lady Merelyn, remember? So... they think Arthur cheated on you with her.

Merlin: WHAT?! 😨

Lancelot: Look. I don't have all the details. You know I don't really enjoy gossip. But, as far as I know, most of the nobels are making fun of you, the servants pity you. Oh, and the Unicorn Catcher defenders are diminishing Arthur's affair, saying you are still the favourite, though they dread you could lose your position.

Merlin: I see...(sighs) They like gossip, uh? (grins) I'll give them gossip.

Meanwhile. Arthur walking in a hallway, encounters Leon.

Arthur: Oh, Leon. Have you seen Merlin?

Leon: I encountered him in your chambers about an hour ago, sire, but I don't know where he could be now.

Arthur: Thank you-wait, what were you doing in my chambers.

Leon: I needed to speak to you privatly, sire. About... an urgent matter.

Arthur: Which is?

Leon: I... well... (sighs, frustrated and starts pacing)

Arthur: (between confused and worried) Is... everything alright?

Leon: (stops pacing a turns to Arthur with decision) May I speak freely, my lord?

Arthur: Uhm... sure. Go ahead.

Leon: You are my Prince, but you are also my friend. You earned my oath and my repect, not just because of your title, but because I grew up with you and I got to know the kind of man you are. For years I admired your honorability, your honesty and your loyalty.

Arthur: Thank you, that's a really nice thing to say. But what does it have to do with-

Leon: But I'm not seeing this man right now!

Arthur: ... I beg your pardon?

Leon: When the knights and visiting nobels said you'd start sleeping with other people eventually, I never once believed it! Because I've seen your love and devotion for Merlin from the start! I believed you uncapable, because I thought you valued honor and fidelity. But I guess I was wrong.

Arthur: What on earth are you talking about?

Leon: Of your affair with Lady Merelyn!

Arthur: (finally understanding) Ooh! (laughs)

Leon: You think this is funny, my lord?

Arthur: No, no! It's just. Leon, you got it all wrong. I was never unfaithful to Merlin.

Leon: Really? (pulls out the chemise) Then what was this undergarment doing in your chambers, Sire?

Arthur: Okay, I guess it does look bad. But I swear is not what it looks like-

Leon: You don't own me an explanation, Sire. And I won't tell Merlin anything because my loyalty stays with you above else. But I fear everyone in the castle already knows of your affair, so if you don't want Merlin finding out by other source, you better be honest with him. (bows) Sire (leaves)

Arthur: (shouts) Leon, is not- (cuts himself, thinking) Wait, I shouldn't tell him before I consult it with Merlin first. And I don't think he would believe my word even if I explain.

Time skip. In the training field, Arthur about to start training with the knights.

Merlin: (arrives with a serious face, wearing his old clothes)

Knights: (look at him with mockery)

Knight x: (whispering) You see that?

Knight y: (whispering) That's why you can't rely on affection to get you up the ladder. The higher you are, the harder the fall will be.

Arthur: (turns and smiles) Merlin! I've been looking everywhere for... (notices Merlin's wearing his old clothes and frowns) Why are you wearing that?

Merlin's wardrove has improved since Arthur's been gifting him better clothing from time to time. Nothing too extravagant, Arthur made sure the clothes matched Merlin's simple style, but they are elegant enough to let everybody know about Merlin's status as his lover. Before, Merlin would wear them just in especial events or ocassions and it was when they finally got together that he started wearing them more often. So seeing Merlin in his old clothes is... unsettling.

Merlin: These are my clothes, my lord.

Arthur: You have better clothes now.

Merlin: The ones you gifted me, I'm aware.

Arthur: Then why aren't you wearing them?

Merlin: The thing is, my lord, I don't want anything from you.

Knights: 😧😧😧😧😧😧😧😧

Servants around: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Arthur: (very confused) What?

Merlin: (face contorts in rage and hurt) You thought I would never find out of your affair?! How could you do this to me?!

Arthur: (nervous and very scared) Merlin, I swear is not what 😰-wait, you already know! 😠

Merlin: And you have the nerve to say it so lightly! (covers his face and pretends he's crying) I thought you loved me!

Arthur: (in panic) I do! (runs to him) Merlin, the lady they're talking about, you must know it's- (about to put a hand on his shoulder)

Merlin: (gets his hands off his face and shouts) Don't touch me! If you want to have more lovers so be it, but I don't want you to touch me ever again! We are over! 😡 (leaves dramatically)

Arthur: Merlin! (runs after him)

Knight y: It seems the lady didn't catch his attention for long.

Knight x: How can the prince stoop to running after him?

Knight z: So… is the training cancelled?

Meanwhile, in some hidden place of the castle.

Merlin: (enters)

Arthur: (right behind him) Merlin, please listen to me! Is not-

Merlin: (turns) Are we alone?

Arthur: (more confused) What?

Merlin: There's no one here, right?

Arthur: No, I don't think so.

Merlin: Oh, good. (relaxes)

Arthur: (takes his hands) Merlin, I would never EVER cheat on you. I love you too much for that. You must have heard wrong! The lady they are talking about-

Merlin: Is Lady Merelyn.

Arthur: Yes, and... wait, you know?! 😨

Merlin: Of course I know! I'm not stupid. I know you would never cheat on me.

Arthur: (in relief) Oh... okay...(shouts, furious) THEN WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?! 😡

Merlin: Shh! Not so loud, you're going to ruin it!

Arthur: Ruin what?

Merlin: The act.

Arthur: Act?

Merlin: My offended lover act.

Arthur: Again. What?

Merlin: Everyone thinks you cheated on me with Lady Merelyn. Obviously, I can't tell them I impersonated a Lady. They would make more fun of me and your dad would have me killed for sure. But I can't have them thinking you are losing interest in me or that I don't have any kind of dignity either, so... I decided to give them a show. 💁‍♂️

Arthur: And you didn't think of giving me a warning before making your show? I thought you were actually leaving me!

Merlin: (feeling bad, holds Arthur's face with one hand fondly) I'm sorry, I really didn't want to scare you, but I needed your reaction to be genuine. You are not as good at lying as me.

Arthur: (thinking) You'd be surprised... (sighs, still kind of mad, but puts his hand over Merlin's) You do realize your show consists in making me look like a scoundrel, right?

Merlin: Nobody thinks you are scoundrel.

Arthur: Leon thinks it.

Merlin: Well, he is the only one. (gets his hand off Arthur's face and sighs, crossing his arms and with slumped shoulders) Everyone else thinks you have the right to have all the lovers you want. That I should be grateful that you still show any interest in me at all after "Lady Merelyn"... And they are right. After all, you are the Prince and I just a servant.

Arthur: That's not true!

Merlin: It is true. But is not the only thing we are. And yet that's the only thing they see.

Arthur: And since when do you care what other people say or think?

Merlin: (explodes) Since we are together! It's not like I don't know how things are. Even if I wasn't a servant and a commoner, I'm still a man, so it's not like we can marry or anything. I know our relationship can't be formal or official in any way, but I want it to be at least taken seriously!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (composes himself) So... I think a couple of weeks of cold shoulder should be enough. Then you can give me some luxurious gift, I pretend to forgive you for your "affair" and that would be it.

Arthur: (rolls his eyes) The only time you ask something luxurious of me and is for this charade. And you will give me the cold shoulder for two weeks? Really?

Merlin: Just when people are looking? In private we can still be very affectionate. 😏

Arthur: 😒

Merlin: Please? 🥺

Arthur: (sighs) Fine. But tell Leon the truth. I can't handle his disappointed look anymore.

Merlin: I will (hugs him, happily) Thank you. 😊

Arthur: (smiles without been able to help it and hugs back, thinking) He doesn't have the right to be this cute.

Time skip. In the main square.

Merlin: (walking with Gaius' herbs in a cest)

Gwaine: Excuse me, have you seen-

Merlin: (turns)

Gwaine: 😦 ...

Merlin: What? Do I have something on my face?

Gwaine: Do you have a sister by any chance?

Merlin: No, why?

Gwaine: It's just... you look very similar to a girl a met yesterday.

Merlin: (crosses his arms) Are you saying I look like a girl? 🤨

Gwaine: No, no! I mean, you are... very masculine for a... uhm... what is that you do?

Merlin: (about to tell "The prince's manservant", but decides to keep that information to himself for now) Physician apprentice.

Gwaine: Oh, you are Gaius' apprentice?

Merlin: You know him?

Gwaine: I'm sharing a room with another pair of men in his tower.

Merlin: (laughs in amusement)

Gwaine: (laughs too, realising his choice of words) I guess it kind of sounds bad.

Merlin: No, it sounds funny. (pauses) wait...(fakes surprise and excitment) OH! You must be one of the famous saviors that rescue Lady Morgana yesterday! 😃

Gwaine: (smugly) Well, I wouldn't call myself "savior". I did what anyone would have done in my place.

Merlin: Not anyone. What you did was very brave. (pats his arm)

Gwaine: (blushes a bit, thinking) What is this? She looks so much like this lady that I'm confusing him with her. Get yourself together!

Merlin: So, are you looking for Lady Morgana?

Gwaine: Pardon?

Merlin: You said you were looking for a girl, I'm assuming it's her.

Gwaine: Oh, no. I'm looking for the lady that was accompanying her, actually. Lady Merelyn. Do you have any idea of where she could be?

Merlin: Uhm... not really. Nobody has heard of her since yesterday.

Gwaine: (frustrated) It's like she vanished into thin air! (sighs) I told her she couldn't trust that prince! I bet he discarded her as soon as he learned she was tainted by that bandit. And he wasn't even faithful to her. Did you know the prince has a male lover.

Merlin: (gasps) Really?

Gwaine: And his manservant of all people! Look, I don't judge. I myself had my flings there and there. And I do appreciate men beauty. But reject a woman like Lady Merelyn for a man? Really?

Merlin: (chuckles) She got you bad, uh?

Gwaine: Me? (snorts) Nah, I'm just a bit worried about her, it's all. She mustn't be coping well after, well, everything. And she may need a shoulder to cry on, if you know what I mean. 😏

Merlin: (chuckles) Good luck with that. (turns to leave)

Gwaine: (stops him) Oh, let me carry that for you. (points the cest)

Merlin: (lifts his eyebrows in bewilderment and then smiles, amused) Still confusing me for a girl, I see.

Gwaine: Not really. But as I said, I also appreciate men beauty. 😏

Merlin: (mouth open)

Gwaine: (very surprised) It's incredible! You even have her expressions.

Merlin: Oh, so I'm a replacement then.

Gwaine: No, I-

Merlin: Are you even into men or are you so desperate to have this girl that you would lay with anyone that resembles her?

Gwaine: I didn't mean to-

Merlin: Offend? Because that's the only thing you've been doing since you open your mouth.

Gwaine: (sighs) You are right. My apologies.

Merlin: (turns to leave)

Gwaine: (puts himself infront of him) Can I point out something though? (gets closer) You never once said you weren't into men 😏.

Merlin: I am into men. (looks him up and down) But I have taste.

Gwaine: (brings a hand to his chest dramatically) Ow! You hurt my feelings. How am I going to survive this? Ugh! My heart, I can't bare it! (drops himself on the ground)

Merlin: (thinking, fondly) He really hasn't changed a thing. (kneels and says) Are you done?

Gwaine: (opens one eye) This isn't working isn't it?

Merlin: No.

Gwaine: (chuckles and lifts his back from the ground) Come on, at least let me invite you a drink for the troubles. I know I good tavern nearby.

Merlin: (smiles) Of course you do, Gwaine.

Gwaine: (smiles back but then frowns) Wait... How do you know my name?

Merlin: I would gladly accompany you (extends a hand)

Gwaine: (takes his hand with a triumphant smile)

Merlin: But you see... (pulls his hand away and speaks in a more high pitched tone) I'm still waiting for my ring. (shows his ring finger in a very girly manner)

Gwaine: (Gwaine exe has stopped working) 😨

Merlin: (lifts his head and spots something behind Gwaine) Oh, hi Arthur! 😊

Arthur: (just arrived, very hectic, in barely contained fury and with labored breathing)

Merlin: (stands up and frowns, worried) You look like you just came from a race. Is everything okay?

Just moments before in Arthur's chambers. Arthur on his desk.

Arthur: (thinking, while looking at a parchment) The kidnapping attempt on Morgana was handled. Then what? Is Morgause coming already? No, the troll was first and then... (slams the scroll on the desk, frustrated) Ugh! I can't remember! (stands up and decides to go to the window to take a breath. While he does, he spots Merlin very afar coming back with Gaius' herbs, relaxes inmediatly and smiles) He shouldn't be walking this much. Is he still limping? (smirks and starts to have no so good thoughts remembering their first time together and then forces himself to snap out of them) Damn you, Merlin. I can't concentrate nor when you are here, nor when you are not.

Someone knocks on the door.

Arthur: (turns, but stays near the window) Come in.

Leon: (enters, head down, very ashamed and embarrased) Sire. (bows)

Arthur: (sighs and crosses his arms, serious) I'm assuming Merlin already told you.

Leon: I have no words to express how sorry I am-

Arthur: For what exactly? Thinking ill of me? Believing in some rumors before my own word? Or for basically insulting me on my face?

Leon: All of it. I'm really sorry. I didn't recognise Merlin when he was... and then all the proof seemed to indicate... But that's not excuse. I failed as a knight and as a friend and will never forgive myself for-

Arthur: (laughs)

Leon: (lift his head in confusion)

Arthur: Keep going, you were getting to the best part.

Leon: (more confused) Uh... well...

Arthur: I'm joking. I'm not mad at you. I probably would've thought badly too if I was in your place. And, though it hurt my feelings a bit that you believed me capable of being unfaithful, I'm actually more glad that you care for Merlin so much you called me out on my supposed love affair. So thank you, for caring for him and for not mincing words to tell me when you believe I'm doing wrong.

Leon: (smiles, releaved) You are welcome, Sire.

Arthur: It also has come to my attention that not all the knights think like you. (tells Leon to come to the window with a gesture) Tell me... What do the knights think of Merlin?

Leon: (hesitates) Uhm...

Arthur: I want complete honesty.

Leon: Well, knights like Sir Innprudence, Sir Ewan and Sir Owain, may they rest in peace, respected and valued Merlin because they witnessed your story from the start. They got to know Merlin and knew the depth of your feelings. It's really a shame they never got to see... (his eyes water) I'm sorry. (wips a tear away)

Arthur: (puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and gives him a soft empathetic smile) It's okay. You were there when... when the questing beast happened, so I know it's not easy to talk about them. Take your time.

Leon: (pauses to compose himself and then continues) The thing is, most of the knights we have now are new. And for them Merlin is just your whim of the moment, a bed warmer, nothing more. They would never dare to harm him or insult him, much less if you are looking, but they do insult and talk ill of him behind Merlin's back. I'm not going to go into the details, but their thoughts on your relationship are not different from your father's.

Arthur: So they think Merlin is using me just for riches and power and that I'm using him just to get laid.

Leon: To sum up, yes sire.

Arthur: And Merlin is aware of this?

Leon: Sire, when is Merlin not aware of something?

Arthur: True...(sighs) And I guess me showing affection towards "Lady merelyn" didn't help with that. (looks guilty)

Leon: Merlin doesn't blame you, sire.

Arthur: But I should've been more careful. I promised I would cherish him and protect him and... (thinking) and somehow I still ruin it.

Leon: You can't change the past. What matters now is that you are doing something to remedy it. Merlin also told me about his plan.

Arthur: You mean his "offended lover act"? Yeah, that's why I'm keeping my distance. I still think this is absurd, but if he is so invested on this charade, then I'll support him.

Leon: (smiles, proud) You are very mature, sire. Merlin is very lucky to have someone so wise and considerate as his lo-

Arthur: THAT LECHEROUS BASTARD! 😡

Leon: ...excuse me, Sire?

Arthur: (points through the window, furious) There! Look!

From Arthur's window, they both can appreciate Merlin and Gwaine interacting.

Leon: I'm sure they are just talking, my lord.

Arthur: No, I know his kin, he's flirting with my Merlin!

Leon: You just met the man yesterday.

Arthur: Look! They are laughing!

Leon: Maybe he told him a joke.

Arthur: (mouth open) No... he didn't just... He patted his arm! 😤

Leon: A very friendly gesture.

Arthur: (fuming)

Leon: As I was saying, is admirable that you support and respect Merlin's idea no matter what-

Arthur: (leaves running)

Leon: (sighs) Well... at least Lancelot will have a new partner at the stables.

Back to the present.

Arthur: (grabs Merlin and pulls him away from Gwaine, a possesive arm around Merlin's waist)

Merlin: (looks at him, confused) Arthur?

Gwaine: (still on the floor, mumbles to himself, looking at Merlin and Arthur) The prince's mistress... The prince's male lover... the... OH! (finally puts the pieces together)

Arthur: (to Gwaine) You. What do you think you are doing? 😑

Gwaine: Uhm, you know, (puts his arms behind his head and crosses his legs, smiling) taking the sun. With a beauty by my side. Until you interrupted us.

Arthur: Don't be ridiculous. Stop harassing Merlin.

Gwaine: (offended) I'm not harassing anyone!

Arthur: I saw you holding his hand and also how he pulled away uncomfortably from you. In my language that's harassment.

People around: (who have been staring for a while, start to murmur between them)

Merlin: Arthur, relax. He wasn't-

Gwaine: (stands up) What is the problem your highness? Feeling insecure?

Arthur: (about to lunge at him)

Merlin: (stops him, puting himself infront of Arthur, hands on his chest) Arthur, no.

Gwaine: (raises hands as in surrender) I mean, I get it. Any man would feel insecure with this face the gods have blessed me with.

Arthur: (struggling with Merlin) Insecure? of you? (scoffs) Why should I feel insecure about a simple foreign who has no honor or a coin in his pocket. A nobody whose only reason for being in the castle is because he got into a fight with some bandits.

Gwaine: (standing tall, raising his voice) This nobody was able to defeat the bandits that even the royal guards couldn't! But don't worry, I don't expect your gratitude. (looks at Merlin) Your lover's gratitude is more than enough for me. (checks Merlin out shamelessly)

Arthur: (furious) Now you are dead! (tries to lunge at him again)

Merlin: (his arms around Arthur now to stop him) Don't! Arthur, please! (spots Lancelot and Leon in the distance and yells) Lancelot, Leon, help!

Lancelot: (runs to help Merlin to contain Arthur)

Leon: (who ran downstairs as soon as he saw Arthur had no intentions to be civil, hurries to help Merlin to contain Arthur too)

Gwaine: Leave him! I want to see if the prince's skill is as praised and to check if he is really the best warrior in Camelot. Although considering the skills of the royal cavalry, I highly doubt it.

Arthur: I can show you whenever you want! (struggles harder against Lancelot and Leon hold)

Gwaine: Yes, you're probably used to beating all your knights. The difference between me and them is that I'm not going to hold back, nor will I let you win for fear of losing my position.

Leon: (very offended, about to talk in defense of his prince) You-

Merlin: (raises his voice, angry) Enough! Gwaine, you're being very disrespectful. You're talking to the Prince of Camelot. How dare you insult his skills? He's the greatest knight I've ever seen. Arthur has worked and trained very hard since he was a child. You have no right to talk to him like that.

Leon and Lancelot: (look at Merlin, the person who disrespects and insults the prince 24/7, like he growed a second head)

Gwaine: Are you going to slap me again, my lady? 😏

Arthur: He slapped you?! 😨 What did you do to Merlin to make him slap you the first time?! 😡 (struggles even harder, more furious)

Merlin: (to Lancelot and Leon) Take him away.

Lancelot and Gwaine: (start dragging Arthur away)

Arthur: (keeps kicking and screaming as he is dragged away) Let go of me! I'll kill him! What did the fuck did you do?! 😤 (and he's gone)

Merlin: (turns to Gwaine, very serious) No, I'm not going to slap you, but if you keep insulting him I will hit you and not like a lady. (leaves)

Gwaine: Wait, I didn't get your name! (watches Merlin leave, still with a grin on his face) Damn.

Percival: (gets to Gwaine walking through the people gather for the conmotion) I should have know it was you who was making such scandal. (looks in the direction where Arthur, Merlin, Lancelot and Leon left) Was that the prince? What trouble did you get yourself into this time?

Gwaine: (innocently) I don't look for trouble. Trouble finds me.

Percival: Sure 😒. Have you decided what are we going to ask the King yet?

Gwaine: Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to ask.

Meanwhile, somewhere inside the castle.

Merlin: (very angry) What the fuck was that?!

Arthur: (very angry too) I should be the one asking! (to Leon and Lancelot) You let go of me already!

Lancelot and Leon: (let go)

Merlin: I'm not the one who almost beated a man in the middle of the main square for no reason!

Arthur: (almost shouting in disbelief) No reason?!

Merlin: Gwaine went too far with his words, I won't deny that, but you were agressive with him even before that. You weren't just acting like a clotpole or a dollophead, you were hysterical!

Arthur: (very sarcastic) Hysterical?! Why would I be hysterical?! It's not like I just witnessed a man flirting with you from my window, that said man insulted me on my face, and then you prevented me from putting him in his place!

Merlin: He wasn't-wait, you were watching me from your window? 😦

Arthur: Don't change the subject! (accusingly) What were you doing with Gwaine?

Merlin: Nothing! We were just talking.

Leon: Sire, may I suggest-

Arthur: No, you may not.

Lancelot: (opens his mouth)

Arthur: You neither! (to Merlin again) I'm just saying you weren't exactly rejecting his attentions back there.

Merlin: First you say I was being harassed and now you say I was flirting. Make up your mind, will you? (pauses, realising) Wait... you are acting like this just because you are jealous? Really?

Arthur: (sarcastic) No, I'm not jealous, Merlin. It's not like you have given me reasons. Or have you?

Merlin: (stony face and neutral voice) You are right. I have given you none.

Arthur: (realises Merlin now is really, really mad, thinking) Fuck.

Lancelot and Leon: 😰😰

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: For your sake I advice you to choose your next words very carefully.

Arthur: It's not that I don't trust you. I just want to understand. Merlin, when I arrived you... you were holding hands!

Merlin: So? I'm a man, Arthur, not a woman. I can have contact with other men. Stop treating me like some maiden or damsel in distress!

Arthur: (yells) I DON'T TREAT YOU LIKE A MAIDEN, I TREAT YOU LIKE MY LOVER!

Merlin:...

Lancelot and Leon: ...

Servants around: 🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢

Arthur: (takes a deep breath to compose himself, just barely, and says in a deep voice) I treat you like my lover, because that's what you are. My lover, my Merlin, MINE. So forgive me if I'm offended to see MY lover holding hands with another man, a man who has clearly shown his interest in you!

Merlin: ...

Servants around: (murmur)

Leon: (coughs) As I was trying to suggest before, maybe you should take this argument to somewhere more private, my lord.

Time skip. Arthur and Merlin alone in Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: Gwaine met me as Lady Merelyn and today I revealed it to him she was me. That was it. We were joking. It was a joke, nothing more.

Arthur: So what history do you have as Lady Merely with Gwaine?

Merlin: Arthur.

Arthur: I'm not saying you were unfaithful. But I did hear something about a ring in that joke of yours and he said you slapped him, so you can't blame me for being curious.

Merlin: (sighs) He did flirt with Lady Merelyn, alright, but never overstepped. He just did a few compliments there and there. But then Lancelot told him I was "the prince's mistress" and I guess his pride were wounded because he started to talk bad about you. That's when I slapped him and gave him a piece of my mind.

Arthur: And the ring part?

Merlin: Well, in our argument, he kind of claimed he could give me "comittement" so I asked "where's my ring?"

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Merlin: To shut him up. I knew the kind of man Gwaine was from the start. As soon as I mention the ring he panicked and stopped bothering me.

Arthur: (gives a long sigh)

Merlin: Are you calm now?

Arthur: I'll be once he leaves this castle.

Merlin: Why? I just told you his interest was in Lady Merelyn, not me.

Arthur: He flirted with you as a man too, Merlin.

Merlin: He was joking! He just wanted to mess with you. And of course you let him get to you as the clotpole you are!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: What?

Arthur: That's really what you believe, don't you?

Merlin: Well, why else would he do it?

Silence.

Merlin: Look, I've been walking all day and I'm tired. So I'll be in my room resting while you think about your behaviour today. (leaves, going to his chambers)

Arthur: (murmurs to himself, incredulous) He has... no idea. (laughs dryly) He really has NO IDEA.

Arthur's flashback. Percival visiting Gwaine's grave.

Arthur: (aproaches Percival) Percival.

Percival: My lord.

Arthur: I believe I own you an apology. I was so self absorbed in my grieve, that I didn't notice you were grieving too. Gwaine was my friend too after all, one of my best knights, but I haven't properly shown my respects till today.

Percival: It's alright, sire. We all know what Merlin meant to you. (smiles sadly) He meant a lot to Gwaine too.

Arthur: (nods) Gaius told me Gwaine scorted Merlin to the Crystal Cave. He was there for him when I wasn't and for that I'm grateful. He didn't deserve his fate. What Morgana did, using Eira to get information from him and then torture him, it has no name.

Percival: I don't think he ever cared about Eira.

Arthur: He went after Morgana after her execution, did he not?

Percival: Yes, but no because of her. He was torned because he was fool enough to tell her he was taking Merlin to the valley of the fallen kings. As far as he knew he had almost doomed Merlin with his carelesness. And then Morgana finished to get all the information from him when he tortured him with the nathair, so he died thinking he failed him.

Arthur: (smiles sadly) I guess I can relate to that feeling.

Percival: (gives a small nostalgic laugh) I don't think he ever got over his crush on Merlin in that sense.

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Percival: (surprised) Oh, you didn't know?

Arthur: That's... that's impossible! He was a womanizer. I mean, I've only ever seen him with women.

Percival: Yes, but he was into men too. He was never discret about it, but men who like men do not abound pricesly. And it's true he had a preference for women, but... Merlin was always especial, you know?

Arthur: ...

Percival: Are you alright, my lord?

Arthur: Were they... were they ever...

Percival: No, I don't think so. He always came to me like a kicked out puppy everytime Merlin rejected his advances. Though I'm not sure Merlin ever realized Gwaine's flirting was serious. Either way he clearly had no insterest in Gwaine, so eventually he gave up.

Arthur: ...

Percival: My lord?

Arthur: (forces a smile) I have to go. It was nice talking to you. (leaves)

Percival: ...

End of Arthur's flashback.

Finding out Gwaine's feelings for Merlin was a breaking point for Arthur. His memories with Gwaine and Merlin interacting were more clear. Where he once saw friendly behaviour, he detected the flirting . And those memories started hunting him as much as Merlin's last words to him. They made him grumpy, upset and later he discovered why.

Arthur was jealous. Jealous of a dead man. Because he got to flirt with Merlin, he got to show his interest in him even though he was rejected. And it was him Merlin went to when he was vulnerable, without his magic, it was him he asked to protect him when he went to the Crytal Cave and not Arthur.

And, inevitably, the more aware he became of his feelings for Merlin, the more his hatred for Gwaine's memory grew.

Now Gwaine has shown interest in Merlin again, maybe even stronger than before, and , of course, Merlin as the clueless clotepole he was can't see it cause, apparently, he is unable to notice when someone has any romantic interest on him.

But now Merlin was his. He worked very hard to get him back and he is not going to let Gwaine take merlin from him.

...

It may seem funny, but Arthur's jealousy here is actually pretty toxic and I'm not going to sugarcoat it.

Credits to my best friend Rosangela, who help with the dialogues.

Arthur's reaction to Gwaine brazenly flirting with Merlin ✅️

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#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fic #merthur prompt #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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