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alltheirdamn · 5 months ago

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Diamond Dolls | Joel x stripper!f!reader

Chapter I : Diamond Dolls Club

Series Summary: Running from the past led you straight into the arms of club owner, Joel Miller. He’s quiet, respectful, and devastatingly handsome. He’s nothing like any man you’ve come across, and it’s so hard to keep your heart guarded when he’s tearing down the walls. Chapter Summary: After fleeing Miami, you find yourself a spot at Diamond Dolls, and meet Joel Miller. The man who can change everything. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, Joel is in his early 40s reader is in her mid-20s, mentions of alcohol, strip club setting, nudity, sexual tension, mutual pining, eventual smut, explicit language… more tags will be added as the story goes A/N: Well, a very belated hello to everyone! I've been in the darkest recesses of a writers block, and had to drag myself to the surface to finally finish this one out. It's a slow start, but it's something nonetheless. Anyway, love you all lots and i hope you stick around for this lil story <3 xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

One week ago

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were holed up in the bathroom of a shady hotel, listening to the sound of pleasured moans coming from the bedroom. Your friend, Diana, had been going at it with some stranger for the last half hour, and you were scared. Private parties were typical for the dancers. In fact, Richie loved it. He loved being the type of owner who showcased all his dancers in whatever way he pleased. But you knew something was off when you stepped out of the black Escalade and into the hotel lobby. This type of party differed from the rest; you had this nagging feeling it would all go wrong.

And it did.

The sound of heels rattling inside your bag drifted through the empty parking lot as you neared your last resort. Diamond Dolls. Your gas tank—and lack of money—only got you as far as Austin, Texas. It wasn’t an ideal place to end up, but beggars can’t be choosers, so it would have to suffice.

It was early afternoon, no doubt the slowest time of day since only a handful of cars were parked in the lot aside from yours. With the sun still shining, the neon pink lights of the sign above the door were turned off, but it still looked inviting. Diamond Dolls was already far different than your club back in Miami; it was different in a good way.

At least, you hoped it was.

Cracking open the front door, you shuffled your bag over your shoulder and took a deep breath. This was your only shot at putting your life back on track, and you prayed you’d be given the chance to set things right. You couldn’t go back to Miami. Not now…not ever. The bridges you burnt could never be rebuilt; running away would only take you so far.

A few patrons turned their heads your way when the sun streamed through the hazy club, no doubt an annoying reminder that the world still existed outside this tiny place. The entire club was drenched in low neon blacklights, the purple and pink hues painting the shadows in a sultry ambiance. Above you, diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling, twinkling lights refracting off the gems that clung to the metal branches curving upward. The black leather couches around the stage were shiny and clean, another sign that this club was far better than where you came from.

High-top tables scattered the open areas in the club's corner, tiny tea lights flickering on their marbled counters. Everything was meticulously detailed, as if whoever owned it had put all their effort into making this space unique and beautiful.

Across the back was the bar; the counter stretched from end to end with an array of liquors stacked on glass shelves that hung from the wall. Behind the counter was a lone bartender busying himself with cleaning glasses.

Perfect, you thought. This was your opportunity.

“Hey,” you cautioned, walking up to the black countertop. “I was wondering if you guys are taking in any new dancers.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the bartender shrugged.

He had a snug black top stretched across his chest and dirty blonde hair that stuck back along his scalp with too much gel. A few tattoos marked up his forearms, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt and reappearing along the column of his neck. Instinctively, you knew he was well paid by any female clients who came into the club late at night. A few drinks and maybe a few flirtatious conversations made him a wealthy man by the end of his shifts.

“Who should I be asking then?” You questioned, tapping your nails along the edge of the counter.

The bartender glared at your nails as they tapped repeatedly on the counter. You retracted your hand with an apologetic look, letting your arm hang heavy at your side. He bristled at your presence, obviously unamused by your friendly antics. Charm wouldn’t work here…noted.

“Joel’s up in his office. Why don’t y’go bother him.”

“Joel…” You echoed.

“The owner?” He cocked a brow, almost annoyed that you didn’t know who Joel was.

Obviously, you didn’t fucking know.

“Gotcha,” you nodded.

The bartender slung the drying rag over his shoulder, retiring the glass he had been cleaning to the other stack of dishes. He pointed down the hall near the stage toward the black-painted door to the right.

“You’ll find him in there,” he said.

You muttered a quick thank you before walking down the hall and past wandering eyes. Smoothing down your hair, you inhaled sharply before rapping your knuckles against the door.

“Come in!” A deep voice called out.

You timidly turned the doorknob, peeking your head around the door with a sheepish smile. An older man, probably no more than forty, leaned back in a leather chair. He had on a simple black button-up, the sleeves rolled up his tan arms, exposing the muscles and veins that spidered from his fingers to his biceps. You lifted your eyes to his face, brown scruff covering his jaw, small patches of gray threading through the wiry hair. His plush lips curved into a slight grin, his bottom one plush and pouty—a very dangerous thing to see when you realized he could potentially be your new boss.

“How can I help you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to his, immediately pulled under the dark brown waves that swam through his irises. You expected the club owner to be less appealing, maybe even a bit sleazy, given your track record of who you’ve met in the business. You didn’t expect him to be this attractive.

You stepped over the threshold, unsure if you should shut the door behind you. You didn’t know Joel, nor could you trust him to be different from the other men you had encountered over the years. Despite your weariness, he motioned for you to shut the door and extended a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

“I was, um, wondering if you were taking any new dancers?”

You didn’t mean to word it like a question, but your uncertainty got the best of you.

“Might be. Y’from here?” Joel asked, his southern drawl thick with each syllable.

You slid down into the chair, letting your bag drop to the ground by your feet. Joel tracked your movements, watching you squirm under his heavy stare while he waited for your response.

“Miami, actually. Just drove in this morning.”

“What brings ya’ to the Lone Star State?” He asked, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Family,” you lied a little too quickly.

Everything about being a dancer was a lie, and you weren’t about to change your ways for some owner you didn’t know. Joel stretched his arms over his head, his biceps flexing as he interlocked his fingers behind his neck. It should be a crime for someone to be this handsome; clearly, he knew what you were thinking because his lips twitched with an amused grin.

“Y’got experience in a club?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Worked at my last one for three years.”

Joel’s eyes raked over you, lingering on your glossy lips and finally trailing back up to your eyes. Your skin flushed under his stare, your ears burning the longer he drank you in with slow, deliberate passes over your body as you crossed and uncrossed your legs behind the shield of his wooden desk.

“I’m assuming you’ll want to see me dance,” you said, filling the dead air between you.

“Not necessary.”

You stared at your hands in your lap, crestfallen. This had been your last resort, and you were down on your luck now. You barely had a hundred dollars in cash left in your wallet, and you told yourself it was for emergencies only. You weren’t even sure it was enough to cover more than a night's stay in a motel somewhere in town. There wasn’t anyone you could call. There was nowhere else to go.

A soft creak of his chair stirred you from your swirling thoughts, and you looked up to see Joel bracing his elbows on the desk. He was so much closer now, his age materializing into something softer as he studied you. Worry lines creased his forehead, smoothing out around his temples where his brown hair curled behind his ears. Even if this meeting was all for nothing, at least you got to enjoy a small glimmer of hope dressed as a beautiful Southern gentleman. You reached for your bag, ready to beeline it out the door and back to your car before you could make any more of a fool of yourself.

“I don’t need an audition, sweetheart,” he said softly.

You blinked up at him, both confused and hurt. He didn’t need to kick you while you were already down; he made it very clear you weren’t getting a spot in the club. You lifted your bag into your lap, shoving the chair back hard enough to make the legs scrape against the floor.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. Have a good day.”

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they didn’t sound much better either, but you didn’t care. There was nothing for you here, and you needed to search for a place to stay before the day slipped away. Clinging to whatever dignity—and hope—you had left, you turned for the door without another glance over your shoulder.

“Wait.”

Joel’s voice radiated through the room as your hand hovered over the door handle. You half-considered dismissing him and continuing with your hopeless day, but a nagging voice inside your head told you to stay. Steeling your emotions, you turned to him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Come back at nine. You’ll be on stage tonight,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“What?” You balked. “You just told me you didn’t want to see me audition.”

Joel shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants, his shoulders lifting slightly with a shrug. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and shove you out the door. But there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone nor a look of deception in his soft eyes.

“I never ask my girls to audition,” he explained.

“Why? What if I’m bullshitting you?”

“I’ll find out if you are, but I got a feelin’ you won’t let me down.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Joel dipped his head toward you, his lips curving at the corners under his thick mustache. You were in deep shit, knowing you’d get to see that warm smile every day. With nothing left to say, you muttered another thank you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway before he could retract his offer.

An upbeat tempo thrummed through the air as you passed by the stage, and you took a quick peek at the girl spinning on the pole, her blonde hair falling in a cascade of curls down her bare spine. The handful of patrons you had spotted coming into the club were now crowded around the stage, enthralled in her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Crisp dollar bills scattered the glass stage, falling at her feet as she lowered herself onto her knees. Your steps faltered as her eyes connected with yours, a friendly smile ghosting over her face before she returned to her routine. Digging through your bag, you reached for your wallet and dished out a couple of bills to toss onto the stage. It wasn’t much, and you knew better than to lessen your savings, but it was enough to show your respect for her hustle. She understood this life as much as you did.

You spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the city, familiarizing yourself with the sidestreets and small shops you would come to frequent. There hadn’t been much luck finding a place to stay for the night, but you hoped you’d have enough money after your shift to afford a room, at least for the weekend. You were more than ready to sleep anywhere that wasn’t your car and even more ready to have cash in your pockets again.

Anxious to start your first shift, you circled back to the club much earlier than Joel had asked. The sun was barely kissing the horizon as you put your car in park, the neon lights above the building flickering to life as the night swallowed the sky. You were two hours too early, but you didn’t want to wait any longer. You wanted to be on the stage now.

Searching through the bags of your belongings stuffed in the trunk of your car, you found your pile of club outfits and began piecing together different options to wear for the evenings. You laid out a matching pink lingerie set, the bra entirely rhinestoned in refractive colored jewels. It had done numbers on stage, a perfect outfit for making first impressions. You scoured for one more set—a just-in-case outfit—and found a thin, black lace teddy at the bottom of the pile. You could pair it with your taller heels and use it as your outfit for your second dance on stage. If you got that far. Everything else looked unappealing, but you’d have time and money to shop during the weekend for new clothes. New everything, if you were being honest. You were starting from the ground up in Austin.

As you tucked your clothes in your bag, you heard the sound of car keys jingling behind you. It was instinct to tense up at any noise in a parking lot, and your defenses were always up to foreign noises. Spinning quickly toward the sound, you came face to face with the same blonde you had seen on stage earlier in the day.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured her, releasing a shaky breath.

She was wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, her feet stuffed in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. With her hair pinned up and most of her makeup wiped off, you knew her shift was over.

“You must be the new girl Joel told us about. I’m Monica.”

She extended a hand toward you, and you quickly introduced yourself.

“Sorry, I probably look like a mess. I just got in today.”

Monica looked over your shoulder into the trunk of your car, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mess. Everything left of your life was stuffed into only a few bags; it was embarrassing, to say the least.

“Do you have family in town you’re staying with?” She asked.

“I do,” you lied. “I just haven’t had time to stop by yet and drop my things off.”

Monica looked between you and your car, skepticism crossing over her features. Dancers were great at lying but even better at discovering one. She saw through you in less than a minute.

“Let me give you my number,” she offered, pulling her phone from her purse. “When you’re done for the night, just call me. I’ve got an extra room you can crash in for a couple of nights if you need it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. That’s, um, that’s way too kind of you,” you stammered.

She bristled at your words, shoving her phone in your hands to exchange numbers. You typed with shaking hands, the numbers mixing up as you deleted and retyped repeatedly. Handing the phone back to her, you waited for a text to ping through the air, and it did.

You made your first friend in the new town and only hoped things wouldn’t end like they did in Miami.

“There’s plenty of girls still here for the night,” she started. “They’ll set you up in the dressing room and make sure you’re taken care of tonight. If anyone gives you hell, just tell them Monica’s looking out for you, and I’ll set them straight.”

You laughed softly at her gentle threat. You weren’t expecting such hospitality so quickly, but it was refreshing to know someone cared about you. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, she parted ways for the evening, and you were left standing in front of the neon lights beckoning you inside.

Showtime.

The crowd inside the club had doubled since you had left earlier in the afternoon; the couches and bar tops were littered with groups of men and women all drinking high-priced drinks and shadowed in plumes of smoke. Three bartenders worked behind the counter, their routine flowing together as they worked in tandem, taking orders and making drinks.

As you walked down the hallway by the stage, you noticed Joel’s door shut to the club. It confused you since the club was ramping up for the night; owners were usually out mingling with customers and dancers. You considered knocking on the door and thanking him again, but the thought passed just as quickly as it came, and you found your way to the dressing room.

The room's bright lights were stark in contrast to the rest of the club, and you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Only two girls occupied the room, working on their hair in front of the vanity. The second you entered their eyesight, they turned with wide grins.

“You’re the new girl!” One squealed, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she ran up to you.

She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her heavy vanilla perfume floating around her body and onto yours.

“I’m Heather,” she said, pulling away. “And that’s Carolina.”

She gestured back to the other brunette, who gave you a shy wave. She was shorter than Heather, her hair cut into a sharp bob and streaked with caramel highlights. You waved back, introducing yourself to them both. Heather bounced back to the vanity, moving her array of makeup to the side to make room for your things.

“There are open lockers to the side over there, so feel free to stash away anything you need,” she explained. “If you need a curling iron or hairspray, you can always grab mine. And Carolina has extra body glitter, too, but I’m guessing you have your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my bag, but thank you. You guys are really sweet.”

You sat next to Carolina, dumping your makeup bag on the counter. Carolina worked at fixing her black nipple pasties, both of them on display under her sheer red bra. Her curves filled out her mini-skirt, the red material matching both her bra and Pleaser heels. She was fiery; you liked that.

“Joel said you’re from Miami,” Heather started. “This has got to be way less exciting than your old club, huh?”

You tensed up at her question, deciding on what to divulge. Heather and Carolina were sweet, but they were still strangers, and after last week…your guard was higher than ever. Pulling out your foundation and eyeshadow, you quickly started your makeup routine, dodging any invasive questions they tried to ask.

“How long have you both been working here?” You asked, flipping the focus onto them.

Heather fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusting her purple halter top over her breasts before turning back to you.

“I’ve been here since Joel opened the club, so almost five years,” she stated.

“And I’ve been here for a little over a year,” Carolina said beside you.

“How is Joel?” You asked. “As an owner.”

Heather and Carolina let out a little giggle, clearly something private between them that went unsaid in response to your question.

“We like to say he’s like a recluse,” Carolina explained. “He hardly ever comes around during business hours. He just stays quiet and tucked away in his office. We pay him house fees at the end of our shift, and he leaves us alone.”

That piqued your interest. How could a club owner be so hands-off? Or maybe this was normal, and everything you had experienced in Miami was incredibly unprofessional. It was unprofessional, but you only assumed parts of it were like having your boss pimp you and other girls out for drugs and money.

“Isn’t that weird, though? I mean, most club owners don’t do that. They’re usually—.”

“Creepy and a bit unsettling?” Heather offered.

You nodded slowly, focusing on yourself in the mirror as you lined your lips with a pink lip liner.

“Joel isn’t like that, I promise you. He’s probably the most respectful man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t even think he’s seen our tits,” Carolina giggled. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him outside his office during a shift.”

You shuffled off the vanity chair, returning to your bag to pull out your first outfit. As you peeled your shirt off, you mused over their casual information on Joel. You couldn’t make sense of it; how was Joel real? He must be too good to be true. He had to be.

“But how does he know what’s going on around here?” You pressed.

“His brother, Tommy, comes around, checks in on us, and reports to Joel if there’s anything worth knowing,” Heather shrugged.

“That’s it?”

“Yep!” Both of them said in unison.

Carolina strolled to one of the lockers behind you, retrieving a red garter from her back to tie around her ankle. You eyed her as she tightened the straps of her heels and adjusted her bra one last time. As she flounced to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave you a slight wink.

“You’ll be just fine here, doll. I promise.”

The moment your heels clicked against the glass floor of the stage, everything in your mind turned off. You gave the DJ— Bradley, call me Brad, doll— your music of choice before stepping onto the stage: a slow, sensual track that made the crowd turn their heads in curiosity. Until then, Heather and Carolina had taken turns onstage doing routines to high-tempo songs, keeping the crowd engaged and rowdy. But that wasn’t your forte.

You started things slowly, wrapping your hand around the pole and teasing the crowd with meticulous movements of your body that swayed to the beat of the music. Your fingers teased the outline of your breasts, cupping them seductively as you made eye contact with a few men sitting near the edge of the stage. Their undivided attention on your body was exhilarating; the promise of money dropping at your feet was enough to keep you going. Hooking your leg around the pool, you pulled yourself up, spinning in gentle turns as you flowed with the music. Everything you did was unrushed, and you took your time commanding the stage.

Eventually, the tips started piling up on the stage. More clients drew closer, their eyes hungry and watchful. You slid onto your knees, crawling toward a younger man who hovered by the side of the stage, his button-up shirt disheveled and wrinkled—no doubt from a private dance he paid for only an hour ago. You graced him with an inviting smile, swaying your ass back and forth behind you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he crooned, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the music.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you replied.

You knew how to bait them and make them chase after you. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, like the world was a blur around you, and all that existed was just the stage, the money, and your ability to make men crumble at your feet. Dragging yourself onto your knees, you coasted a hand down your abdomen, grinning as he tracked your fingers as they dipped over your navel. The money roll in his hand caught your attention, but you refrained from staring too long. Eye contact was crucial—if you kept him reeled in, the money would come to you.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked, breathless.

“More than you know.”

He curled a finger, beckoning you closer. You didn’t like when clients reached for you, but you saw the crisp fifty-dollar bill hiding in his palm. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer to the edge of the stage, letting his fingers work at the waistband of your thong. He didn’t prod or explore; his touch was respectful and gentle. Blowing him a kiss, you tucked the money under the thin fabric before returning to the center of the stage to finish your set.

The music drifted to an end, the applause from the crowd around the stage rippling above the sound as the DJ returned to his playlist of choice. You gathered the tips off the stage floor, stuffing them into your moneybag as you left your set.

For some strange reason, you were disappointed to see Joel’s office door shut off to the club despite Heather and Carolina’s words. You understood he didn’t come out during business hours, but part of you wished he had watched your first routine. Wasn’t he curious? And why did you care to have him watch you perform? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress him…Okay, maybe you were…

Passing the DJ booth, Brad gave you a proud smile and a small congratulations. You hurried back into the dressing room, frantic to change into your next outfit. Heather lounged along the benches in front of the locker, her nails tapping against her phone screen as she typed furiously.

“Ugh!” She exhaled. “Men suck.”

You giggled as you plopped beside her, enjoying the simple camaraderie of being in another sisterhood with other dancers. You missed your girls in Miami, but that wouldn’t stop you from making new friends. And from what you’d already experienced in your short few hours at Diamond Dolls, these girls were genuine and caring.

“Who’s the guy?” You asked.

“His name is Michael. We’ve been seeing each other on and off the past year, and he’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I give all my time and energy and get nothing in return. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

You knew it too well. You had never been lucky in relationships; they were messy, and it was hard to come across a man who truly understood your field of work. Some of them loved the idea of having someone overly sexualized and, in their words, slutty. They considered every stripper to be the stereotypical version of a woman, all glitz and glam and naked on display. You were more than that, but none stuck around long enough to find out.

“Can I give you some advice?” You offered.

Heather stopped her typing, giving you her full attention.

“Men don’t deserve shit. If he’s not going to give his time and dedication to you, then he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your respect. You’re worth more than that. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

“Those types of men don’t exist,” she laughed. “They’re all sleazy and just want their dick wet.”

“I don’t know. I think there could be some good ones out there.”

Unwanted images of Joel flashed through your mind. There was no way you actually were thinking of him in this setting. You knew nothing about him or the type of man he was, so you couldn’t let your mind wander to the thought of him as a love interest, nor did you want that. He was a stranger and your boss.

“Well, if you find one, send him my way.”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

As you both sat in comfortable silence, you worked at sorting through your wad of cash from your set. Smoothing out the bills and organizing them, you counted out over two hundred dollars. Not the best for your first routine in the club, but it was more than you had walked in with. And it was enough to hopefully find a place to stay over the weekend. However, Monica’s offer still remained in the back of your head.

It was well past three AM when you decided to call it quits for the night. After two more sets on stage, you collected another four hundred dollars, leaving you satisfied for your first shift. Clients were generous, and the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating. You wanted more, but you wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet, at least.

After peeling off your clothes and replacing them with the sweats you had walked in with, you said your goodbyes to the girls and made your way to Joel’s office. A flight of butterflies swarmed in your stomach as your hand wavered over the door. Why did he make you so nervous? You were never nervous around men; you were usually quite the opposite. But Joel…You couldn’t get a read on him. You didn’t know what to expect, which made it so much worse.

“Hi,” you said quietly, softly cracking the door open.

You peered into the office, spotting Joel hunched over the desk, rifling through some papers. He glanced up quickly, his eyes shifting back down to the papers…Then, immediately right back up to you. You didn’t miss how his gaze drifted down your body, the hunger flickering to life behind his irises. You were in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but you might as well have been naked with the way he undressed you with his heavy stare.

Your name fell softly from his lips, his mouth curving up in that same grin you melted over earlier.

“Heard you were the star of the show tonight,” he smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” you laughed.

Sliding into the office, you shut the door behind you, leaving only a few feet of space between you and Joel’s large frame. Somehow, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his gravity pulling you forward.

“No need to be modest, sweetheart. Everyone was talkin’ ‘bout you out there.”

“How do you know that? The girls told me you stay in here all night.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He wore that snug black button-up, and the soft material still deliciously clung to his muscles. His biceps flexed under the shirt, and you trained your eyes on him to keep the temptation of looking at bay.

“Don’t worry, I hear everythin’ inside this club. Got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How’d you get into the business?”

“That’s a story for another time, sweetheart. It’s late, and I’m sure y’wanna get home,” he chuckled.

A mystery. That's what Joel was: an absolute mystery. You couldn’t dig under his walls, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let him dig under yours. If he kept his life close to his chest, then you’d do the same.

“What’s your price for house fees?” You asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Flat rate of twenty dollars. You can tip out the bartenders and Brad if y’want, but I pay them well enough that y’don’t have to worry ‘bout it.”

“Twenty?” You gaped.

His brows furrowed together, trying to understand your shock. You pulled a twenty from your money bag and walked toward his desk to slide it to him.

“They charge you less in Miami?” He questioned, reluctant to take the money.

“No, it’s not that. They charged a lot more…Like over a hundred some nights.”

It was Joel’s turn to stare at you dumbfounded; his lips parted in confusion. Wasn’t it normal for house fees to be that high? Or had you been lied to all these years?

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

“I swear I’m not. That’s what the club owner charged us down there.”

Joel ran a hand down his face, his eyes squeezing shut. You swayed awkwardly, your fingers digging into the material of your money bag.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to cuss at you like that. Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” you replied quietly.

“M’gonna take real good care of you here, ‘kay?”

His words shouldn’t have affected you, but heat crawled up your neck as you tossed his words over inside your head. Once again, Joel was proving to be far different than what you were used to back in Miami, but you wouldn’t let yourself overthink it.

“Thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me none, sweetheart. Y’get home safe. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

You cringed at the statement, another reminder of the web of lies you were already weaving. You’d tell him the truth eventually, or maybe not at all. You wouldn’t jeopardize your chance at a new life here.

Joel’s eyes did one final pass over your body, and your anxiety nearly drove you right into the door when you turned to leave. He needed to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t need any more fuel to the fire burning inside your stomach.

You spent far too long hovering your finger over Monica’s contact information, debating whether or not to take up her offer of a place to stay. You had enough money for a hotel room, but the idea of saving it and tucking it away sounded more appealing. You didn’t know Monica— or any of these girls— but her willingness to help you earlier proved how loyal these dancers were to one another.

Dialing her number, you tapped your fingers against your steering wheel, watching through your dirty windshield as patrons filed out for the night. You wondered which of these cars belonged to Joel and promptly stopped yourself from wondering about anything else. Why was every thought beginning and ending with him?

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh… Monica?” You reintroduced yourself, stumbling over your words like it was your first time speaking.

“Look who made it out alive in her first shift!” She said cheerily. “I’ll shoot you my address, and you can drive over. I’ve already got the guest bedroom set up for you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude on you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re not intruding at all, honey. I’ve got the house to myself this weekend and could use the company.”

“I really appreciate it, Monica. Thank you.”

The city was nothing like Miami at night; the streets were empty, and the air was silent and calm. You kept the volume low on the radio as you drove to Monica’s house, enjoying the sound of the breeze as it drifted through the crack in your window. You focused on learning the street names as you passed every intersection, replacing the thoughts of Joel’s warm smile with things that would prove to be more important to you. But the memory of his eyes and smile still lurked in your mind, and no matter how many green lights you sped through, you couldn’t escape it.

Monica’s home was tucked away in a residential neighborhood nearly half an hour outside the city, her tiny home the only one with a porch light still flickering under the dark sky.

You barely opened your trunk when you heard Monica’s voice trailing down the driveway.

“Hi!” She squealed.

You turned to find her bounding down the pavement barefoot, her blonde hair tousled into a high ponytail and her pajamas hugging her curves. Setting your bag on the ground, you emptied your arms to welcome her into a hug, which should have felt awkward given you had hardly known her less than a full day, but with Monica…It felt normal.

“Thank you again,” you exhaled, your body slumping into her tight embrace.

“Oh, don’t even mention it. My ex has the kids this weekend, so the place is extra lonely.”

“You’ve got kids?” You asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory question; you had danced alongside several women who were single moms supporting their children. Not to mention, Monica looked way too young to have kids, let alone more than one.

“I’ve got two,” she explained with a tired smile. “Twins, actually. Jackson and Luke. They just turned three in June.”

You shuffled your overnight bag over your arm while Monica led the way to the front door. The moment she opened the door, you were welcomed into a very lived-in home. Kid's toys littered the ground, while mismatched socks and shoes lay around in other spots. You smiled to yourself, seeing such a cozy place; you missed being in a home. Living in shady apartments and hotels left you bitter and yearning for somewhere to call home.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she laughed absentmindedly. “The boys tend to destroy any clean area in the house.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love it.”

She glanced back at you, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. It was true; you did love it. And you loved being welcomed into a home without feeling like a total burden. Monica gave you a small tour of the house before guiding you down the hall to the guest room. It was set up with a queen-sized bed and a small vanity in the corner—perfect for a night or two to get you back on your feet.

Once settled in, you returned to the living room, where Monica was lying on the couch.

“Thank you so much again,” you said, collapsing into the cushions.

“Of course, girl. I tend to be the motherly one out of the group, so if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. How was the first night?”

You stretched your legs out along the sectional, burrowing further into the pillows as you let your body unwind. Monica mimicked your movements, curling up under the small blanket draped over her body.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted. “Being in a new club is always scary, you know? But everyone has been so welcoming, and the customers are great. And Joel is…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Joel is what?” Monica pressed, giggling slightly.

“He’s amazing. I’ve never met a club owner like him. He really cares about all of you girls, and it shows. I’m not used to that.”

“You had it bad out there in Miami, huh?”

You shifted slightly, trying to mask your unease with the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Monica; she hadn’t given you a reason yet not to, but the question was too fresh to answer. Glimpses of that night suspended themselves in your head, moments you couldn’t shake and only hoped you’d never have to relive. Everything you saw… everything you did… you wanted to forget.

“Is it alright if we don’t talk about it?” You asked, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

“Of course, honey,” Monica said softly. “Whatever happened out there, just know it’s in the past, and you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you, and so will Joel.”

Joel.

Everything kept circling back to him. He was an enigma dressed in all black with a warm smile and a country twang. You were used to men being nice; they almost always had an ulterior motive for their kindness, but not Joel. His kindness wasn’t self-fulfilling, as far as you knew, and you could see how serious he was about the safety of everyone in the club. Maybe things would turn out differently here; maybe things would be okay.

The early morning sunlight slowly began to seep through the living room curtains as you and Monica fell into endless conversation. Eventually, she mumbled something about needing a few hours of sleep before needing to run errands, and you took it as your sign to retire to bed. As you settled under the covers, you forced your mind away from the wandering thoughts of Miami. It was easy to forget everything that had transpired in the hotel room when you kept yourself busy, but in the silence, there was nowhere to run from the memories.

“Alright, which one of you are we fucking first?” One of the guys asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his belt, as he asked the question. Your stomach rolled with nausea as the realization hit you; Richie had pimped you out. This wasn’t a party; this was a setup. You swayed in the corner of the room, eyeing the door to figure out how to escape without being snatched up by one of the men. But there were too many of them and just the three of you to try and fend for yourselves. What did it matter, though, when your two closest friends were already drugged out of their minds?

You couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours. The sun was too bright inside the bedroom, and your body was coated in a thin sweat as you jolted from the bed. You were safe. You were in Texas. You were at Monica’s house. You repeated those reminders as you rolled out of bed and entered the guest bathroom. The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger; your eyes puffy and your face pale.

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself.

Splashing cold water on your face, you took a few minutes to gather your bearings. The days spent on the road running from Miami were catching up to you, and so was the anxiety that you had kept at bay.

“Hey!” Monica called from somewhere down the hall.

You braced yourself against the bathroom sink, swallowing the startled gasp that threatened to bubble out of your mouth.

“I’m headin’ out to the grocery, so if you want me to grab anything for you, just shoot me a text! I left breakfast on the kitchen counter for whenever you’re hungry,” she continued.

“T–Thank you!” You stuttered.

Dammit, you were okay.

You waited until you heard the sound of the front door closing before emerging from the bathroom. In your slim hours of sleep, Monica had cleaned up the house from the night before. Toys were piled in small bins beside the couch, and the miscellaneous clothes and shoes had disappeared, most likely to their respective places in the laundry or kids' bedroom.

The lingering smell of breakfast led you into the kitchen, where a plate of eggs and bacon sat neatly on the counter. Monica was truly a godsend, and knowing you were in good hands settled some nerves. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, you inhaled the aroma of the plate of food and reached for the fork. Your hand wavered as you spotted a piece of paper tucked under the plate's corner, dainty handwriting scribbling across the note.

In case you need it, here’s Joel’s number.

You stared at the series of numbers before you, your throat dry. Joel. The man that was giving you a second chance at this life you had decided to live. Joel. The man with a kind heart and even kinder eyes. Joel.

The one person who could change everything.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x stripper!reader #joel miller x stripper!reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au

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trivia-yandere · 5 months ago

Text

dilemma 2

"car sex looks so much easier in the movies." part one @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @

warning: semi-public sex, car sex, dirty talk, drugdealer yoongi yas, smoking/"drug" use, mentions of drugs, guns, sexual enhancement pill, kissing, oral sex (f/m), fingering, nipple sucking, riding, creampie, unprotected sex, ass-slapping,

word count: 7.139

kinktober masterlist

“Each time I see you, you get something more bold.” the nail tech speaks as she carefully adds the clear coat onto your nails. “You always keep me on my toes. I never know what to expect.”

You giggle a bit with a curt nod to your head. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t me choosing these designs?”

Yoongi had been the one to tell you all he wished for you to get - and you never went against it. He was the one paying for it. You recall one of the many times you and he were hanging out. He would always insist that you didn’t have to buy whenever you wanted weed, a perk that you didn’t wish to take advantage of.

Yoongi understood that you were stubborn at times and instead decided that you two can smoke together and it wouldn’t be considered “free” if he was smoking it with you - as if you didn’t know he “accidently” left some behind for you whenever he left.

That, and it always ended with you and Yoongi fucking. You blamed it on you being high but you and him both understood that even sober would you be willing to fuck him.

After a smoke session that soon lead to a fuck session, Yoongi had mentioned how your nails would look nice a light blue color and had offered to pay for it, no matter the cost. Him handing you $200 wasn’t what you expected - his excuse was he didn’t know how much nails cost.

Typical Yoongi response.

“Boyfriend?” she asks, eyes glancing up at you. “You always get designs and add bling.”

You lick your lip, unsure of how to respond.

Yoongi wasn’t your boyfriend - he never asked you.

Sure you and he would often spend time together when you weren’t working and he wasn’t…doing whatever it was that he did. He never truly did tell you what he sells besides weed, but did you truly wish to know? Just like he said before - ignorance is bliss.

Yoongi and you would go places that could be considered dates - says your friends - and apparently acted like a couple. He would buy you things randomly, items he thought you’d enjoy and of course he does pay for your nails simply because he likes the way they look on you.

“Something like that.” was your response, unsure of what you were truly expected to respond with.

There’s a ringing noise indicating that there’s a door opening. You raise your brow in confusion as it was already dark outside and the salon is closed and has been for over an hour now. You typically choose the later appointments at times and Yoongi would pick you up.

“Ah, is this the boyfriend?”

Your head whips around to see Yoongi in the flesh. He steps closer, sauntering towards you with such a cool and nonchalant swag about him. Your heart jolts at just the sight of him, dressed casually; dark grassy colored shirt with light-washed gray jeans and his infamous Nikes that he wore that he had in nearly every color.

Yoongi always wore jewelry, his wrist holding expensive gold bracelets and watches. His ears typically held little silver or gold hoops or the occasional diamond earrings. Witnessing him wearing a diamond studded chain around his neck, matched with another looser one that slightly sways as he walks.

“Yoongi.” you say as he reaches you, your body warms at his sudden appearance. “I…I should be done soon. Were you waiting long?”

“Just stopping by. Have to make a quick stop before we go out to eat.” Yoongi shakes his head, dark eyes glancing down to your nails. “I like your nails. They’re nice.”

You couldn’t help but smile, looking at your nails with the design Yoongi picked out - full of different shining gems that he insisted you get, again, no matter the cost.

Yoongi goes through his pocket and grabs his wallet. He turns his eye to the nail tech who’s already watching in curiosity. Sometimes, not all, does Yoongi wear rings. They could be subtle, simple silver rings. Today, however, was not a subtle day. His index, middle, ring and pink display diamond-studded rings that say “SUGA”, and all you can do was snicker.

“Hopefully this is enough.” Yoongi says, handing her a wad of cash. You want to scoff at the insane amount of money he was handing her. “This is too much-” the nail tech widens her eyes a bit, looking between you and Yoongi. “It’s-”

“Fine.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine. You can pocket the rest.” he assures, turning feline-like eyes to you. “You always do an amazing job.”

You have the urge to roll your eyes at him, but you cannot contain the soft smile that creeps onto your lips.

“You always show off like this?” the nail tech asks, placing your hand beneath the uv light. She wasn’t going to complain as you became her top client - always returning biweekly for a new set and leaving a hefty tip. Now she understands why - the man with diamond, sparkling jewelry.

“It’s pocket change..” Yoongi snorted. His hands, calloused and warm, grabs your dried ones and he leans down a bit to press a kiss onto your hand. He winks, the flirtatious Yoongi returning for just a moment before he nods his head at you. “I’ll pick you up no later than an hour.”

Yoongi’s car is parked directly in front of the salon, you and the nail tech watching as he gets into it and speeds off down the road. You haven’t realized you were holding your breath until you let it out.

“That’s…him.” you murmur, shaking your head.

“That’s your man.” The tech nods her head in confirmation. “No doubt about it. You need to fuck him tonight.”

Your body heats up at her words and you begin to laugh nervously. Your nails are done now and you sit as she begins to clean her station, along with speaking with you.

“How long have you and him been together?”

“Not long…” you respond. “...I’ve known him forever. He would always sell me weed in college and I just never stopped going to him.”

“I knew it.” the tech gasps, her eyes widening as if you’ve told her the juiciest gossip ever. “At first, I was thinking… scammer! With all those rings on his hands and jewelry. Overall swag.” She stands up. “But a dealer sounds more accurate.”

You stand along with her. You were her last client of the day and she was preparing to close for the night. The evening sky displays such rich colors of purple, orange and pink all blending together perfectly.

“Ugh, the sex has to be good.” she says with a shake of her head. “I have something that could make the experience better.”

You follow behind her as she grasps her purse and begins to stroll towards the salon doors. She turns off the lights behind you and begins to lock the doors.

“Better?” you furrow your brows. Sex with Yoongi was already amazing - he was the perfect type of pleaser that loved having his head between your legs.

However, you were curious about what she was trying to sell you.

“Girl,” she turns to you with a wicked smirk on her lips. The way she speaks to you is comfortable; like two close friends. “I have these pills. A little…enhancement. Not saying you need it. The way he looks at you…” she whistles, as if knowing that Yoongi can have you wet in seconds. “But…he’s a dealer, right? Meaning you and he always get high together?”

You nod your head hesitantly.

“It'll be amazing. Trust me.” she proceeds to go through her purse and take out a small, square package. “Two of these and you’ll be ready for him in no time.”

She doesn’t even allow you much time to react before she’s shoving them in your hands. “In two weeks when I see you…tell me all about it.”

You aren’t sure what you expect to happen with the tiny, pink pills you took. It takes you a few minutes to walk down the street to the pharmacy to pick up your prescription and wait for another few minutes for them to be done with it. You decided that - why not. You decided to take it while you wait, chugging down a cup of water from the fountain.

You sit in the waiting area. It’s quiet, no one around in the pharmacy besides you and the pharmacist who appears to be taking his time filing your order; but you weren’t in much of a rush.

Your mind wanders to the pill and if it would truly work like she said it would, and if it did how would you react? It couldn’t be anything too strong that would have you wanting to tear Yoongi’s clothes off surely.

The door rings and you’re too occupied with your thoughts to care about who’s entering or the amount of footsteps. Of course, not until you hear a loud bang in the air, followed by several glass breaking. Your body instantly flinches, your heart pounding erratically. Your eyes are wide as you witness several men, all dressed in black clothing and masks covering their faces, point their guns right at the Pharmacist. The poor old man appears just as you knew you did - a deer caught in headlights and scared shitless.

“Stay there.” one man says to the Pharmacist, gun pointed right at him. “You don’t get paid enough to give a fuck about what we steal.”

There’s a total of five of them that you can see, three going behind the counter to shove different amounts of product in their bags while up front, there’s 1 guarding the door. You swallow thickly, your heart pounding outside your chest, your body trembling even more as the guy's head slowly turns towards you.

“Why are you here?”

As if on queue, several heads turn towards you as if just now realizing you were there.

“I…I…”

“She wasn’t supposed to be here.” says one man behind the counter.

“I needed birth control.” you responded meekly, feeling your eyes begin to grow glossy.

“Don’t cry.” the man lowers his gun - that was aimed at the pharmacist - and shakes his head. “You can still get your birth control. Hand the girl her birth control.” he then raises it again, waving it towards the Pharmacist. “You weren’t supposed to see this…”

You’re unsure how to respond and decided that it was best not to. Your body is feeling different and your mind swears it’s playing tricks on you.

The door sounds once more and more footsteps make their way closer to you. You take a deep breath, eyes glancing at the men still shoving product into bags while the Pharmacist struggles to package your birth control.

“Y/N…”

That voice.

Your head snaps towards Yoongi, whose eyes are watching you closely.

“I thought you were going home.” Yoongi murmurs, coming even closer to you. He doesn’t acknowledge any of the men as he stands directly in front of you.

“Y-Yoongi…?”

Your eyes blink several times, eyebrows knitting.

“You weren’t supposed to be here…” Yoongi murmurs. “...when this happened.”

You’re silent for a moment to allow yourself to process his words.

You glance around to the men who don’t appear to be bothered by you - a potential witness. You then turn your attention back to Yoongi.

“This is what you do?” you whisper, voice low and calm.

Yoongi inhales, his dark hues watching you closely. He’s not positive how you’re reacting to this. It’s as if your reaction changed from frightened to relaxed.

“I’m not saying I do this.” Yoongi shrugs. “I am saying you weren’t supposed to be here. I’m sorry if you’re scared.” he’s truthful, you note, as this could be scary for anyone. “And I understand if this is the last time you want to see me.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, hyung.”

Yoongi closes his eyes a bit before turning to the man. He has a bag in his hands and he offers it to you.

You look between the two before grasping it hesitantly. “Thank you.” you say, voice low and mind still attempting to process it all.

Yoongi knew these men, that was obvious. He wouldn’t be here without a mask if he hadn’t - nor would they all be so calm around him. Him being called hyung was just another confirmation.

You sniffle a bit, the bag crinkling in your hands as you begin to stand. Yoongi is silent as he awaits your reaction - for you to run out of here and not look back. For you to demand him to leave you alone and never speak with you again.

“Can you take me home?”

Yoongi feels his heart jolt a moment - there’s hope, isn't it? You felt comfortable enough to allow him to take you home.

“Yes, baby.” Yoongi nods his head, murmuring his words so low. His voice is raspy and deep and his eyes are as dark as they always are and..

And you feel a thump between your legs, like a heartbeat.

You gulp.

The pill was working. In such a terrible time.

Slowly, you begin to stand, glancing away at the masked men for a moment.

“I’ll walk us out.” Yoongi offers, placing a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You can smell his cologne - a mixture of citrus, wood and wood. It’s purely Yoongi and, once more, causes you to feel that familiar heartbeat between your legs.

“You were supposed to check to make sure no one was here.” you hear Yoongi’s voice behind you as you walk. His soft tone with you changes completely when he speaks to the men.

“How are we supposed to know your girl would be here?” another voice sounds, just as annoyed as Yoongi was. “You said you’ll be out with her the whole night.”

Your body is heated at those words - Yoongi talks about you to his…friends? Associates? Fellow criminal dealers?

“Next time fucking check then!” Yoongi snaps, his hand on your waist as you walk past another mask man who opens the door for you.

The air is cool outside and it hits your warm body tenderly. You moan low at how good it feels, yet and still the thumping between your legs remains.

Yoongi’s car is parked in an alley a few blocks away. It’s dark and the car is running. He presses a button on his car door and pulls it open. “Get in.” he mumbles, lightly patting your lower back.

You proceed to do that and once inside, Yoongi closes the door. The rap music is low in his speakers and in a few moments he rounds the car entirely and gets inside the driver.

“Y/N,” Yoongi begins, releasing a sigh. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

You gently drop the paper bag onto the ground between your feet. You take a deep breath. “I’m not scared.” you respond.

Yoongi scoffs. You didn’t see the look on your face when he arrived. It infuriated him to see the glossy look in your eyes and if he could strangle each of them he would; Jungkook especially for attempting to reason with you with a gun in his hand and a mask covering his head.

“I…” Yoongi places his hand onto your cheek. It causes you to hitch your breath. “...sell more than weed. You know that.” he murmurs, that voice again causes your body to react sinfully in a moment that you shouldn’t be.

“I know.” you nod your head, gently leaning into Yoongi’s hand.

“Do you?”

Yoongi’s thumb traces the outline of your lips.

“I would never hurt you.” Yoongi continues. “Do you know that? I’ll never put you in harm's way.”

You meet Yoongi’s eyes as they stare right through you. The car is dark and only a single street light in the alley illuminates slightly in the car. His chains sparkle on her neck along with the rings on his hands.

“I can take you home, baby.” Yoongi hums, tilting his head a bit. He had to know the way you were looking at him right now. There wasn’t a way he thought that you just wanted to go home without you. “And if you don’t want to see me anymore…”

Yoongi doesn’t finish his sentence and instead awaits your response.

“Who are they?”

Yoongi furrows one brow. “...My brothers.” he answers truthfully. “They can…be a bit dumb at times.”

“They know me.” you state, it wasn’t a question.

Yoongi nods as his lips twitch upwards. “They know you.” he confirms.

“I’m your girl?”

Your tone is teasing and there's a twinkle in your eyes; especially when your tongue pokes out to swipe at his thumb.

“You are my girl.” Yoongi rasps, inhaling. “You know that.”

Thump.

You wrap his thumb in your tongue, your eyes never moving from his; unblinking. You suck gently on it, wishing it was something else entirely.

“My girl…” Yoongi hisses. “I like your nails.”

Giggling, you release his thumb and shake your head. You reach your hand out and place it onto his thigh and dangerously close to his groin. You ponder if it was some type of kink Yoongi has

“Yeah?” you hum, nails tapping against him. “How much do you like it?”

Yoongi’s eyes lowers dangerously slow to your hand teasingly tapping the bulge in his jeans. Maybe it was a kink he had - he loved the way your nails appeared against him; when you’d wrap them around his cock. When you’d hold his face between your hands or rub it along his chest as the two of you would cuddle together. He enjoyed when you’d run your hands through his hair at times, though he had to pretend he didn’t because he, after all, was a man and not a soft one like you claimed once.

“So much…” Yoongi murmurs, tongue coating his lips. “...do you want to smoke?”

You tilt your head a bit, glancing up at Yoongi. It’s obvious you wanted to do something more than just smoke, but you decided to nod your head instead. Your mind wanders back to what your nail tech said, pondering if this pill mixed with a high would be any different.

You nod your head.

In a way, this was a way for Yoongi to prepare himself to be able to deal with you and calm his own nerves. No one wasn’t expecting for you to be at the Pharmacy and eventually, he would explain what more he did outside of dealing weed. He didn’t want to literally show you and he still finds it surreal you’re handling it this smooth.

As always, Yoongi has everything pre-rolled for the two of you. He leans his seat back a bit and goes through his pockets for a lighter. He lights the joint before passing it to you.

“Do you do…this often?” you ask before placing it between your lips and taking a pull.

“I usually don't.” Yoongi shakes his head. “They do. I sell it.”

Smoke releases from your lips, your eyes zoning out for a moment to process his words. You supposed it made sense that Yoongi sold other stuff - and you’re sure this is still the tip of the iceberg. The fancy cars, expensive clothes and jewelry mixed with the amount of money he always gave you.

“We typically try to steer away from armed robbery but,” Yoongi shrugs. “business must go on, baby. We only steal from corporations, not small businesses.”

You take another pull and roll your eyes before passing it to Yoongi. “How “people over profit” you are.” you tease.

Long fingers grasp the joint from you. Yoongi smoking has always looked hot to you and even now it just intensifies; maybe the pill was just having you crave Yoongi more.

“Some people need medication for a cheaper price, others need it for other uses. I only supply them.” Yoongi releases the smoke from his nose, tilting his head as his eyes connect with yours. “Ya’ sure you okay?”

“I am.” you nod, offering a short smile.

“You look…” Yoongi can’t put his hands on it. High, sure, but you couldn’t be that high. You didn’t appear frightened anymore. Yet, that look in your eyes wasn't fear. “...hmm.”

Thump.

You squeeze your legs a bit tighter as your eyes blink at Yoongi, never leaving his gaze. It clicks in his mind right then and there. You were horny - more than he’s ever seen before. The constant squeezing of your thighs, the slightly flushed look on your skin.

“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Yoongi scoffs, a smirk forming onto his lips.

You swallow, yet another jolt between your legs signaling that you indeed did want Yoongi to do just that. Your mouth begins to salivate at just the thought of having him deep in you, fucking you in such a disrespectful way that it’s nearly demeaning.

You let out a soft breath.

“I do.” you admit, not wishing to hide it anymore. There was never any judgment with Yoongi and you find that you could always be truthful and open with him. He was a tease at times, but you never took it bad. “I took this pill.”

“Pill?” Yoongi raises a brow, taking another hit of the joint before passing it back to you. “What type of pill?”

You do the same as Yoongi, closing your eyes for a bit as the smoke hits your lungs. “Sexual enhancement, I suppose.” you shrug your shoulders. “Nail tech gave it to me. Told me to try it.”

Yoongi is intrigued now. Maybe this was what is causing your eyes to give him such longing, seductive stares.

Yoongi licks his lips. “Hm.” he blinks. “How do you feel?”

You take a long hit of the blunt, your eyes staring right at him for a second too long, showing him just how you feel without truly saying another.

“I want to suck your dick.” you say, releasing the smoke from your lips, hitting Yoongi directly in the face. “Now.”

Yoongi is nothing but a man. Of course he got hard by that - especially with how demanding you were. He wasn’t a highly dominant person and didn’t mind whenever you wanted to take control; same as of right now.

The blunt, now too small for your nails to grasp, is discarded and quickly, you push yourself towards Yoongi. Your lips connect with his hastily, hands going to touch the bulge in his jeans, gripping and rubbing it.

Yoongi swallows back his moans as he kisses your back, your tongue dancing with his own. Your hand manages to get inside his jeans and grasp his length tightly in your palm, causing Yoongi to gasp.

“That pill must be really fucking you up.” Yoongi grunts when you release his lips, saliva snapping the connection as you do. He offers you assistance in lowering his jeans so his cock can spring free.

“It is.” you say, your eyes not leaving his as you open your mouth and allow a trail of saliva to fall out slowly and onto the tip of his cock.

Yoongi groans, his eyes darkening at how slutty you looked.

You lower yourself to wrap the tip in your tongue, allowing it to swirl. Your eyes close and instinctively, your back arches. You never enjoyed doing this before Yoongi, as you found that no man was truly worth sticking their cock in your mouth. However, Yoongi was different and you acknowledge that. You enjoyed sucking his cock and hearing the sweet moans and words of encouragement.

“Ah, shit.” Yoongi slams his head against the seat. His eyes begin to flutter, finding it extremely difficult to leave his eyes open.

Yoongi’s cock is warm in your mouth, radiating the same heat as your tongue does. His tip hits the back of your throat almost playfully.

Yoongi tries his hardest to compose himself, but he cannot. Especially not when it comes to you. There’s only so much of his moans he can keep to himself before he releases them pathetically. One large hand places itself on top of your head while his pale cheeks flushes a dusty pink. Your hand tightens around the shaft of his cock so you could focus solely (for now) on sucking on the tip.

“You always look so beautiful.”

Yoongi’s eyes lazily flutter back open to watch the way you suckle onto his cock with such need. His hand slightly grips your hair, unable to take his low eyes away from the obscene sight of you.

Your tongue runs past Yoongi’s slit, turning your head a bit just to look up at him. Dark, cloudy eyes meet his and he shivers visibly. The salty pre-cum hits your tongue and you giggle softly at the taste of it - but how couldn’t he? Everything about you was perfect to him - even outside of sex.

You wanted Yoongi just as much as he wanted you. You wanted to see him crumble and shiver in your embrace. Yoongi was the type of man that gave you everything and didn’t expect anything in return - you wanted this moment to be about him; for however long he’d last.

You take Yoongi further into your mouth, opening wide and willingly. Your tongue lays flat as you bob your head up and down rapidly.

Yoongi, on the other hand, groans, his eyes rolling. His thighs shake just as the sound of your suckling groans louder. Car sex wasn’t usually his forte as it was a small space for two people - but he does find that it’s convenient. That and you were determined to not wait any longer than you needed to.

Your mouth is good for Yoongi. So warm and wet, pleasuring him greatly with qualified skills that he doesn’t realize himself that he’s thrusting into your mouth until he hears you groan on top of him. There’s saliva pooling out from the corner of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

“That pill must be kicking your ass.” Yoongi grunts, roughly removing your lips from his wet cock. It springs out of your lips with a ‘pop’ and slaps you directly between your eyes, an act you weren’t bothered by in the slightest. “You want to do this now?”

Yoongi licks his lips just as you nod your head erratically, an eager look in your eyes. He releases a short chuckle. “If that’s what you want…get in the back.” he nods his head to the empty back seat before fixing himself. His eyes survey his surroundings, the alley way as dark and quiet as it always was. His brothers had to be done by now.

Just as you scurry to the backseat, Yoongi opens the driver door to go back there as well. The car remains on, headlights off to not gain any unwanted attention. He sits in the back and locks the door before turning to you.

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” Yoongi murmurs, but he’s fond of this memory he would share with you. You and he would look back to how terrified (and horny) you were on this very day. “Take your clothes off.”

Your body flushes at the change in Yoongi’s voice, but your pussy continues to throb. You do as you’re told, kicking off your leggings and throwing your panties along with this. Yoongi continues to watch as each second passes and your naked flesh makes its appearance.

“Come.” Yoongi murmurs, reaching out for you. He clasps your chin to press a gentle kiss onto your wet lips, an act he always did. You always adored the contrast that was Min Yoongi, such a gentle man that could fuck you so disrespectfully if he wanted to. “Now lay back.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for you to get situated before he’s already parting your legs. After doing this with him many times, you cannot bring yourself to be embarrassed; especially not now.

“You’re so wet.” Yoongi murmurs to himself, his eyes zoning between your legs as his mouth begins to salivate.

Yoongi lowers himself, both hands digging into your thighs to keep them apart. He presses a simple kiss against your clit that causes your back to arch at how sensitive you truly were.

“S-Shit…!”

Yoongi wasn’t one to waste time. His tongue lays flat against your clit, his head bobbing back and forth in rhythm. There’s only a short tune of music in the background that completely dies down with the sound of your high-pitched moans.

Yoongi loves being between your legs - it didn’t matter if it was his cock or his face. Your thighs are warm as they cage his head between them and he finds that he genuinely enjoys eating you out. Most men didn’t understand the act as much as he did. The sweet sounds of your moans are fixed with little words of encouragement. The way you’d squirm and beg for him to slow down - and he never did. It all drove him insane and wanting to give you more.

Yoongi’s eyes stare upwards at you. Your hands squeeze your breast while your eyes are snapped shut. You don’t hold in your moans; he doesn’t want you to.

Yoongi’s tongue is always rough against your sensitive clit. It’s as though he’s forcing you to cum all over him, determined to taste your arousal that he causes. Maybe it’s an ego boost as a man to be able to cause a woman to cum so harshly. So much so that he doesn’t come up for air and continues to suckle on your swollen clit until you’re nearly begging for him to slow down.

It doesn’t help that Yoongi was an attractive man between your legs who enjoys watching you crumble for him. You learned the first few times to keep your eyes off of Yoongi while he was doing this for once you made eye contact, it was a wrap. He wouldn't break it, all the while his tongue would be buried deep between your legs.

“-fuck…”

Your thighs are quivering as Yoongi lifts himself from between your legs just as your high was about to come crashing over you.

Of course, Yoongi wasn’t done with you. Your hole is clenching and unclenching with each passing second and Yoongi couldn’t help but want to bury his fingers deep inside of you.

Yoongi’s rings are cold as he inches his fingers inside of you. Again, your back arches once your walls feel his fingers inside of you.

“Let’s see how hard you can squirt in under three minutes.”

Such mischief in his dark eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. He licks them, savoring the taste of your sweet arousal that’s now coating his long fingers. He releases a short sigh - how perfect you truly were for him.

“Yoongi…” you squeal, warmth shooting throughout your entire body. His fingers are deep inside of you, wiggling teasingly as its own is determined to play with you.

“Yes, baby?”

Yoongi knows what his voice does to you - he has to. It can be normal when you and he spoke, and like a flick of a switch, it’s deep. Husky and full of lust - much like now.

You take a deep breath just as Yoongi takes his fingers out just to shove them back in - you contemplate that it’s at least three of them inside of you, just enough to drive you crazier. His fingers scrape the inside of your clamping walls feverishly, your squelching pussy growing louder than your moans.

Your thighs tremble with the impact, having the need to shut because it was all too much and you’re beginning to blame the pill for just how aroused you were. It felt as if your body was a furnace with how hot you felt. Goosebumps clutter your skin entirely and just by the soppy sounds coming from between your legs, you’re positive that you’re soaked.

Yoongi, however, doesn’t mind how wet you are - or the fact that it’s smudging all over his seats entirely. His fingers continue to thrusting inside of you, pace never faltering. Your arousal paints his hand and wrist entirely. The man is astonished by just how more and more arousal continues to pool out of you.

“S-Stop…” you manage to grunt, your eyelids closing rather tightly. A weak hand goes to wrap around Yoongi’s wrist, but that doesn’t cause him to do as you tell him to.

“No.” was Yoongi’s response, hovering directly above you now, his face a few inches from yours. You looked completely out of it and he wasn’t making it any easier. “Squeezing around my fingers so tightly, baby, it’s okay. Just let go…”

Yoongi’s breath is warm against your cheek and his own warmth scatters right onto you. His cologne is even more present with how close he was; woody and musky and the familiarity of it all causes you to cry out - also because of how well he’s hitting a certain spot with such ease.

How you managed to lift your arm to wrap around Yoongi’s neck, you’re unsure. You felt rather weak beneath him, but you did so. Your lips find his instinct and you press a firm kiss against it just as you felt your high come before you.

Yoongi groans into the kiss as your thighs tremble as you were coming and just on time does he remove his fingers from your wet core to allow your arousal to fall freely, splashing against your seats on his car and coating your thighs.

Yoongi releases your lips to allow you to breathe. You gasp out, your hand holding onto Yoongi closely as you attempt to gather yourself pathetically. Your head is swirling, your mind flashing with different scenes and never truly focusing on one - was this the weed or the pill? You aren’t sure.

“You’re just so fucked out. It’s cute.” Yoongi chuckles with a shake of his head. He ponders on the pill you were given that could have you like this.

“Shut up.” you sigh, swallowing. Your throat is dry and you’re unsure the reason why. “I want you to cum in me.”

Yoongi snickers as he leans away from you to look at you just as you open your eyes.

“You can’t possibly have the energy for that right now?” Yoongi teases, but his eyes are watching you closely, as if questioning if you truly did or not.

“Take your dick out.” you say cooly, pushing yourself from your laying posting to now seat against his backseats.

Yoongi doesn’t fight with you and instead does as you tell him to. His jeans are pushed down to his knees and before he could react, you swing yourself on top of him.

You weren’t going to allow the cramped space to stop you from your goal. You’re determined to feel him fully, planting both feet on either side of it before positioning yourself directly above his cock.

Yoongi lets out a short breath when you center his cock at your hole, his hands instantly meeting your hips. He then swallows as you begin to enter his cock inside of you.

So wet.

So warm.

So tight.

Yoongi squeezes your hips with shaky fingers when he feels like you sit directly on top of him. He shakes his head gently, his own thighs beginning to shake.

“You looked just as fucked out.” you tease, licking your lips. You had no time to tease him, however, and instantly begin to lift your hips and crash it back down against him.

Your hands place themselves onto his shoulders as you begin to ride him, snapping your hips in rhythm. The care begins to shake slightly and anyone that may walk past would obviously know that a couple were fucking in here.

It doesn’t stop either of you, of course.

Manicured nails dig into Yoongi’s shirt and you push your head back. His cock is deep inside of you, crashing against your sweet spot with each buckle of your hips. Your breast pounces directly into his face, so much so that he finds that he enjoys this position the most.

“You’re insatiable.” Yoongi groans, large hands sliding up to grip your breast into them. He open his mouth to send a kitten-like lick on both nipples, his tongue twirling around the hardened bud.

You continue to bounce on Yoongi, using his cock to fuck yourself as you desire. Your stamina was running out - as you rarely rode him, only when he asked. However, the feeling of his cock deep inside of you causes you to ignore your shaking thighs and continue on.

Yoongi on the other hand is astonished by how long you’ve managed to do this, but he wasn’t complaining. You’re riding his cock as if it belongs to you; like a sex toy you put back inside the drawer when you’re done with. His hands are squeezing your body entirely, your walls clasping around his cock to milk him of everything he has.

“Slow,” Yoongi stops you mid thrust, panting. Both hands place themselves onto your ass as he halts you. “down.” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against your chest.

Yoongi grunts when he feels you clench around him, his head lifting to look you in your eyes. You’re tired, he notes, but still so full of lust that you’re not going to stop until you’re satisfied.

“‘wanna feel you cum in me.” you breath, grinding against his cock.

“Yeah?”

Yoongi begins to thrust, taking control from you. He could never truly deny you what you wanted - even if it was going to kill him (metaphorically). Large hands squeeze your ass as he begins to thrust while keeping you in place. He pounds deep inside of you, tip of his cock reaching just where he needs to be to have you moaning loudly.

The car is humid now and the both of you are sweating. Wet skin slapping mixed with grunts and moans echoes throughout the car. It’s foggy and only partly due to your earlier activities.

“So beautiful for me.” Yoongi growls, tearing his eyes away from your pussy - that’s gripping him tightly and leaves a milky ring around his cock - to your fucked out face. “All for me, right?”

“All f-for you.” you say in agreement, hands squeezing his poor shirt that you’re sure it wouldn’t fit correctly anymore. “You always fuck me so good.”

Yoongi snickers . “You always take me so good.” he responds, right hand harshly slapping your ass, an act he knows you love. “Pussy was made for me. I waited too long to have it.” he admits.

You want to ask Yoongi what he means, but you’re unable to form words now that he flips you entirely, your back slapping right back into the (wet) seats. He presses your knees to your shoulders and begins to drill you even deeper and harder.

“Wanted to fuck you ever since I seen you at the bar.” Yoongi continues, eyes bow out as he reminisces about a time in your college days that you possibly forgot. “Wearing that short skirt and the low tight-fitted top…”

Your mind tries to rack back to the time but you’re truly unsure. You and your friends frequented the bar often and you always found Yoongi out and about, as well, as he was a dealer.

Yoongi grunts, cock pounding deep inside of you that it would be alarming if he didn’t know how you adored being fucked.

“You don’t remember the way you put your hands on my chest? You were so drunk, giggling and calling me cute. I could’ve bent you over and fucked you right in front of everyone and you’d let me.” Yoongi spats, his dirty words only turning you on more.

Yoongi thinks back to those days years ago, how young and naive you were. How lucky you were that he wasn’t one to take advantage like others would’ve in your drunken state. How he began to pin after you silently, unsure how to truly speak to you outside of you contacting him first - either for weed or just to talk while you were drunk.

“I wanted you to fuck me for so long, too ” you can feel your insides squirm as you speak, his cock sloppily thrusting inside of you. You were going to cum so hard now. “Mission accomplished.”

Yoongi snickers and offers a few more sloppy thrusts. You and he could remember the old times and he’d embarrassingly admit more details about his feelings. As of right now, he was determined to cum in you.

Nails digging into your legs as he holds them in place, Yoongi releases deeply inside of you, cum shooting and painting your walls. Your eyes are closed tightly, chest heaving as you feel his warm seed pool in you.

Yoongi doesn’t move from inside of you until he’s softening. His cum drips out of you when he does and it causes him to snicker.

“I’m so tired.” you murmur, eyes still closed and attempting to catch your breath. “And hungry.”

Lightly tapping your naked thigh, Yoongi speaks. “Side effects, baby. Where do you wanna eat?” You begin to open your eyes, looking towards Yoongi. He’s fixing himself up, pulling up his jeans and tightening his belt.

Yoongi turns his eyes to you and tilts his head. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything years ago?”

Yoongi leans back and shrugs his shoulders. You’re asking questions sooner than he expected. “What the fuck was I suppose to say? I didn’t want to come off as some creep.” he scoffs. “I knew your number, where you lived, where you went to school. I didn’t want to turn you off.”

“You wouldn’t have.” you cross your arms.

“You’re saying that because you find me attractive.” Yoongi waves you off. “If I was hideous you would’ve screamed bloody murder.”

You blink, but then begin to smirk. “True.” you murmur, finally having the strength to pull yourself up. “So…your brothers.” you begin. “They all do the same thing you do?”

“More or less.” answers Yoongi rather vaguely. “I’m sorry again. You weren’t supposed to be caught up in that.”

You blink a few times as Yoongi lifts a hand to touch your cheek. His eyes are sincere as he speaks to you and it causes a jolt in your heart this time .

“It’s cool.” you say, leaning into his hand. “If you were hideous, I would’ve screamed bloody murder.” you joke, causing Yoongi to laugh and you right along with him.

#dilemma #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bangtanwritershq #bangtanwriters net #bangtan smut #bts x reader #trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #kinktober 2024 #drug dealer yoongi #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #btswritingcafe #suga smut #suga x reader

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jymwahuwu · 7 months ago

Note

anon who got beaten by covid coming through with more Capitano thoughts.. (no thirsts..yet. I need to coach myself with scenario building..Capitano talks you through every climax. There. That is the most I can write 😭)

Capitano tried to be patient, he truly tried. But he only sighs softly when communication cannot work but force must.

He is a very broad man and it's quite easy for you to spot his looming shadow over you when you had fallen onto the ground, having tried to escape the cabin with only the moonlight as your guide.

"S- Sir.." You look up, tears welled up in your eyes as you try your best to calm your racing heart. You've seen how he has dealt with..most unsavory soldiers. What will he do to you? A lone soldier who has deserted their post?

The man doesn't say anything for a moment, the darkness of his helmet staring holes into you.

"Have I done wrong with you?" He finally speaks, crouching down to speak with you. Despite him trying to match your height..it only makes it more threatening. "I don't believe.. I've mistreated you?"

He's genuinely confused, he can't..register the fact that he's feared by a soldier that he has treated so gently and nicely. "I apologize if I have harmed you.." He tried to make amends anyways.

But then you go and ruin it by trying to run..tsk, tsk, and of course, he only needs to grab your wrist and you're completely immobile. You are a deserted soldier..and unfortunately it seems like you must treat you as the soldier you are.

Even if he wishes you were more than just a soldier.

Bingo. All he has to do is make your punishment..become his bride. He doesn't like phrasing it as a punishment but..perhaps a training session would be better?

You're still training..just..training to be his wife. (Also training to take his very impressive size that he always sighs as he coaxes you into taking every inch of..)

cw: dub-con, forced marriage, yandere, size kink, female reader

Thank you for sending me a story, I really enjoyed it😽💖 You posted it in two parts, and I replied to both here!! (part 1 of the story is here)

Like gentle giant and skittish darling trope! Frightened, awkward you.

Be informed that you have been chosen as a warrior, and that you have given it your all…but, maybe you don't have the talent here. The combat movements are a bit clunky and don't flow smoothly. The vision tied around your waist shines with the light of the elements, but your skills… (such as flowing out a small amount of water, like a spring spring, or just condensing some cheap gems, or electricity like a kitten claws, etc…). Those skills are just not suitable for fighting, you know? Will you use gentleness against Heavenly Principles, against enemies?

After training, failure and frustration have overwhelmed you, and the physical pain and exhaustion cannot be ignored. Not to mention that Capitano in his cape looks down at you like an unshakable mountain. You rubbed your cheek against his palm and couldn't help biting your lip, shedding tears like a little kitten. He pats your head gently and tells you how to improve your movements and use elemental powers. Easier said than done. You nodded, but there was still no way to improve next time.

He's not biased, really. In Capitano's eyes, everyone can fight, but you… may be able to put your talents in other areas, such as cooking and knitting. Your elements are just as gentle as yours. Maybe you can keep that water and food warm. His confession to you is formal and prepared. He asks you in serious terms if you can marry him and spend the rest of your life together.

You… look terrified, hyperventilating from shock. "Me-me?" You pointed at yourself, shaking. Captain wants to marry you? That first of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? He was just joking, right? You refused and distanced yourself from him like he was a flood.

I like drama🫣😹 so I added some wind and snow. On a moonlit night, you planned an escape, only to fall on the snow and almost be washed away and submerged by the wind and snow. Looking back, I saw that familiar huge figure walking out of the falling snow. He grabbed your wrist a little too roughly, "Sir- Sir?" As always, you looked at him with tears, but fear gnawed at your heart even more.

"You might be dead." There was ice in his voice. He knelt down on one leg and looked down at you. "What are you doing? Did I… hurt you? If you feel that way, then I apologize."

"I-I'm sorry!" You cried, even the tears froze. You know he's right. He is worried about your safety. How is he going to treat you? Will he put you in jail? Capitano carries you in his arms and takes you back to his home. It's there to restore your body temperature and keep you warm. He immerses you in the warm water and towels you off.

If you don't plan an escape, you can still enjoy your options. Since you ran away… you can't return to Fatui, but as his wife stay with him and receive training. Starting from looking directly at his mask, you panicked, but now you can't. You have to look directly into his dark blue eyes, from the depths of your soul. A huge cock stood erect in the middle of his pubic hair and was leaking pre-cum. You stammered, placing your hands on his heated belly as you looked directly at the impressive size of his cock for the first time, "W-What is this? How does this work…!? Can you- can you be a little smaller…"

That's why you need to be trained to accommodate his size. Capitano knew it was unlikely to work the first time. His cock swells against your belly and rubs against your clit, or pushes deeper into you, opening up the tight folds of flesh. The pounding of pulses sends pleasure through your limbs, into your brain as flesh slaps and pops, until the warm cream spurts and rushes into you.

There will be another training next time.

#yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader

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adragonprinceswhore · 6 months ago

Text

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter V: Silver Springs 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You think back to the tumultuous end of your marriage.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, fighting, possessive Aemond, toxic relationship dynamic, dysfunctional family dynamic, physical violence, blood, anger issues

Word count: 5700

A/N: As always, I’d like to acknowledge my love, Justine @theoneeyedprince 🩵 She’s writing a new series called Careless Whisper and it is a gem! ILY!

“You excited for the big show tonight?”

Jace’s cheery voice greets you as you enter the backstage area of Winterfell Arena. You look up from your phone and acknowledge your bandmate with a smile,

“Excited and more nauseous than I’ve ever been”, you joke, sliding your phone in your pocket.

It looks like most backstage rooms have looked so far on the tour; sparsely decorated with fold up tables and chairs. There’s an array of snacks and drinks offered, and you make your way to the refreshments next to Jace to grab some coffee.

He appears to already be wearing his stage clothes; a tight, purple silk button-down shirt that shows just enough skin to get his fans excited. Despite the curse of being the overlooked bassist, Jace has a small yet rowdy fanbase, who tend to go absolutely mental whenever he winks at them from stage. He loves the attention, and you guess today’s extra slutty outfit choice is his gift to them.

He moves to lean against the table, plastic coffee cup in hand,

“So, will you treat us to a new song tonight? I hadn’t heard ‘Dreams’ all put together before we performed it but damn, it sounded great”

You meet his eyes as you pick up the plastic cup by the small ear on the side,

“I think I’ll do ‘Dreams’, it’s the only one I feel is really finished”, you reply and take a sip.

There is another song you’ve been working tirelessly on, but you’re not sure if you feel ready to perform it.

It is one of the reasons why your album is delayed. The members have all recorded their instruments and finished the back-up, yet you haven’t submitted a final version of your vocals.

As a musician, you’re used to pouring your heart out when writing lyrics, not afraid of getting personal. And still, for some reason, this one almost feels too revealing; too intimate to sing out loud.

You have the lyrics written down, and you’ve sung them to yourself at home. But singing them on stage, with him there, feels too exposing.

Too vulnerable.

You haven’t seen Aemond since your regrettable tryst in his hotel room.

After reading through the divorce papers, you called Alysanne back up, needing help to wrap your head around the entire situation.

After a few hours of talking, she convinced you that this was for the best.

You’d gotten what you wanted.

And the mishap in Aemond’s room was, according to your best friend, nothing more than a chance to “bang one out” one last time.

“Got it”, Jace replies in his typical cheerful manner. He reaches for a small biscuit on the table and pops it into his mouth, “I’m sure your song will sound great. They always do”

His warm, brown eyes shine as he assures you of your abilities. It feels nice; how uncomplicated his praise is, and you smile back at him again, thankful to have at least one easy-going person in your band.

You continue to chat light-heartedly as you wait for the other band members to arrive.

When Jace heads outside for a smoke, you spot a familiar notebook on one of the chairs nearby.

It’s open.

Curious and foolish, you head over to see what’s written.

You glance at the paper, lyrics written by hand in impeccable handwriting. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself.

‘I don’t wanna stand ‘tween you and love, honey’‘I just want you to feel fine’

Again with the self-pitying? Fucking hell, he’s relentless.

Did he want you to “feel fine” when he forbade you from attending events without him? Or when he went through your email without your permission?

‘Oh, you say you love me but you don’t know’

You put the paper back down, already feeling your mood souring.

Prick.

When you first started dating, you quickly learned that Aemond was the rock of his family.

If his brother had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour, he was there.

If his mum needed someone to help organise a charity event, he was there.

If his grandfather needed him to go over a case at 3 am, he was there.

Seeing the stress of such immense pressure weigh him down, you, in turn, tried to be his rock; supporting him in any way you could.

You managed quite well. Like those times he came home late after spending 12 hours at the office, and you greeted him with a smile and a home-cooked meal, kissing his cheek.

He’d sit down and grab you by the waist as you placed the plates on the table, keeping you on his lap while you ate and discussed your days together.

When you finished eating, you’d stay like that. He’d lean into you, resting his face in the crook of your neck while he held you close, thanking you for the delicious meal.

You knew that he was thankful for what you did for him; gratitude evident in his voice and how he complimented your cooking skills. Still, there was always this sadness inside of him, a pitiful tint to his tone.

It was tough seeing how drained he got from being everything for everyone.

Aemond’s older sibling never felt the crushing pressure of being Otto Hightower’s protégée. While he worked tirelessly at Oldtown Solicitors after finishing his degree, they chose to pursue the band full-time. A privileged career choice made optional by their generous trust funds.

You took a part-time position after graduating so that you could stay in the band and write music. Aemond nearly convinced you to focus on the band full-time as well, arguing that he could provide for you if you ever needed anything. Despite the generous offer, you decided that he already had enough to deal with, and potentially adding further to his endless list of responsibilities didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted to ease his troubles, not add to them.

Consequently, when you recorded your first album, it was mostly at night, after Aemond had finished working with his grandfather. His natural talent and precision as a guitarist and singer meant that it usually only took him two or three attempts before he was satisfied with a piece.

You, on the other hand, did not find the recording process as easy.

You feel tears of frustration sting your eyes as you step out of the sound booth. Helaena, Aegon and Jace had already gone home, drained from a full day of recording.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, Aemond asks when he sees the way the corners of your lips pull downward.

You let out a shaky breath to gather yourself, swallowing in an attempt to make the lump in your throat disappear,

“I can’t do it, it just-, it sounds like shit no matter how many times I-”, you mumble, cutting yourself off as you try to take another deep breath, determined not to cry.

You feel silly, getting so upset over something so nonsensical. Still, being unable to deliver in the way you’d like has left you feeling powerless over your own voice, like you can’t control it.

Aemond stands up from his seat by the mixing table and slowly makes his way towards you. He moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and looks down to make eye contact with you,

“Don’t say that”

His voice is soft as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, “It’s late and you’re tired, it’s okay to need a break. But never doubt yourself, love”.

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and you crave his touch like nothing else, pushing yourself against his body as your arms hug his waist. He hugs you back, one hand stroking your hair, and you instantly feel the lump in your throat melt away.

The tears that had threatened to spill, never do.

He makes it all go away.

The blood, sweat and tears you’d put into creating your first ever album as Dragon Dreamers proved to be worth it. Suddenly, your songs play on the radio and are featured on major playlists, where thousands of people can listen to them.

The success instigated both you and Aemond quitting your jobs and focusing on the band full time together with Helaena, Aegon and Jace. You were certain that leaving Oldtown Solicitors and creating some distance with his grandfather would be good for Aemond, maybe even pushing him to open up to you more.

He had a tendency of shutting you out, particularly when he was clearly distressed by something. He refused to even acknowledge some things, like he wanted to spare you from it. Yet all his secrecy did was make you feel lonely; like a stranger your beloved did not trust enough to let in. Every time he dismissed your concerns and refused to speak about what was upsetting him, another crack appeared on your weary heart.

During the first year of your relationship you’d been under the impression that you and Aemond shared a connection so innate and deep, you didn’t need to discuss things like other couples did.

You were able to understand each other wordlessly.

And though there was truth in that assumption, time made you realise that Aemond’s inability to open up slowly tore a cavernous rift between the two of you.

Music blasts out of the speakers in the crowded bar, making it hard for you to hear Tyland as he introduces you to one of his colleagues.

It’s a man around 30, with a slightly crooked smile and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun.

You move closer to hear what he’s saying, nodding along to his explanation of what next for your band.

“We’d like to make a music video for one of your songs, maybe featuring a live performance?”, he asks and you feel yourself light up at the thought. A bright smile breaks out over your face, revealing your approval of his proposal.

“That would be amazing!”

You nearly have to shout for him to hear you over the ruckus in the bar, and you lean in a little closer.

“Have you ever considered doing some solo stuff? On the side, of course”, he asks, grey eyes locked with yours.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you have a chance you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, stopping you,

“She wouldn’t have time for that”

Aemond’s firm voice answers right behind you. You didn’t see him come up, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, dreading what’s to come.

The man Tyland had introduced you to appears a bit stunned by the sudden shift in atmosphere, and offers you both an awkward smile and stiff nod before heading to the bar counter.

You turn to face Aemond, whose face is set in a frown,

“What was that about?”, he asks and you feel irate frustration bubble up inside your chest.

This is not the first time he’s taken the liberty of answering for you, or scaring away anyone who dared approach you.

“Nothing”, you reply before walking around Aemond, moving towards the door.

You need air, your husband’s presence suffocating you.

You step outside and spot Jace, leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“You don’t happen to have one more?”

He pulls out the pack together with his lighter and opens it for you in an invitation to steal one.

You place the cigarette between your lips, mumble out “thanks”, and light it up.

You take a drag, let the smoke fill your lungs, and you close your eyes.

The nicotine gives you a slight high and your fingertips tingle pleasantly.

“Give us a minute, Jace”

Aemond’s voice interrupts your serenity, and your companion leaves without a word of protest.

You open your eyes to look at Aemond. You know he’s upset about what had just happened, but there is something else that he’s not telling you.

Behind the angry facade, he seems sad.

Or insecure?

It is hard to decipher when he so persistently tries to push those feelings down.

He doesn’t say anything. His hand seeks out yours to grab the cigarette and he takes a long drag before handing it back to you. You wish he’d just talk to you. Tell you what makes him act so hostile towards those around you.

Towards you.

It makes you anxious; the uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going on inside.

Aemond breaks the silence.,

“So, you really want to leave the band?”

You click your tongue in frustration and throw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it until the bud stops glowing,

“When have I ever said that?”

“You sure seemed happy when that scumbag wanted to steal you away”, he says and moves to lean against the wall next to you.

“Aemond”, you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes. He is so hard to read it infuriates you.

You know there is no point in fighting. It’s like his mind is set on distrusting you; of thinking the worst of you.

“Every time you act like this, you break my heart. It's like you don’t trust me in the slightest”, you say in a helplessly defeated voice,

“That hurts, you know”

As Aemond got more and more possessive over you, he also kept you further and further away from himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he actually hated you.

Why else would you cause his ire to light up so fiercely?

Whenever someone approached you, he was there, looming over you.

Guarding you.

Like you were his, and no one else was allowed near.

No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he wouldn’t listen.

Instead, after you found yourselves in a fight, something that had become a weekly occurrence, he’d head out without a word, leaving you alone in your shared home.

He could be gone for hours, leaving his phone behind so you couldn’t contact him. It felt like torture, waiting for him to come back without any knowledge of what he was up to, or if he was okay.

When he eventually came back and you confronted him about his behaviour, he dismissed your concerns, telling you that he just needed to “clear his head”.

Everything about the situation felt unfair.

Not just the fact that he opted for running away instead of talking to you, but also because you knew he’d be livid if you decided to suddenly leave in the middle of the night.

After a year of meaningless fights, petty arguments and baseless accusations, you came to the realisation that you couldn’t be his rock anymore. And he’d stopped being yours long ago.

Before the success of the band, you could provide him with reassurance and love.

Now, it seemed like he’d made you the enemy, suspicious of everything you did, set on distrusting you.

Staying with him, loving him, felt like too great of a challenge.

And maybe it was.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you put on just a little more lipstick before tossing it in your handbag and walking out of the bathroom. You’d ordered a taxi for six o’clock, and it should arrive any minute now.

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

Aemond’s harsh voice echoes in the quiet room.

He’s leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan flat. You feel the all too familiar pit of anxiety form in your stomach at his tone.

He’s irritated again.

He holds your phone up so that you can see the screen, an email from Tyland.

He’d contacted you earlier today about an opportunity for you to do a photoshoot and interview at Casterly Rock to promote the band's biggest hit yet, Landslide.

Your eyes narrow as you look at Aemond,

“Don’t go through my emails”

“Tyland wrote that he’s already booked you a ticket. You have to run that by me first”, he continues in a stern voice.

As if he’s lecturing a child on bad behaviour.

You stay silent, move to the sink to pick up a glass and fill it with water. You try to distract yourself enough to breathe, anger already making you feel hot all over.

“It was a last minute decision, it’s only 2 nights next week”, you explain through clenched teeth.

You really don’t want to get into a fight right before a show, and had already decided to tell Aemond after instead. Somewhere inside, you knew he wouldn’t be happy.

“Were you not going to give me the courtesy of letting me know that you’re leaving?”

“I was going to tell you after the show”

Your body is still facing the sink so you won’t have to face him.

You can’t decide if you’re more angry with him for trying to control you, or saddened by the fact that he doesn’t trust you.

“You should’ve told me imm-”

“Aemond, you don’t own me. Stop acting like I’m your possession!”

Your irksome voice cuts him off. His still trying to keep his cool, tone refusing to match your intensity as he answers,

“But I am your husband”

“It’s just two nights away. I’ll be with Tyland the entire time”, you say, softening your tone to not trigger him further.

“Out of the question. You’re not going”, he replies stoicly and places your phone back on the kitchen island before standing up.

“That’s not for you to decide!”

Your previous attempt to remain calm fails. You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; being denied a business trip by your husband like he’s your guardian.

“Yes, because we’re a team! I’d never fucking run away without you”, Aemond spits, clearly as incapable of keeping a level head as you are.

“It’s two nights away to promote the band. I’m not “running away”, you clarify and turn to face him.

You can see how exasperated he is by his stiff posture and the hard look in his seeing eye. He tries so hard to hide it, and yet you always manage to see through the facade.

“It’s good publicity”, you say.

“I said no”, is all he replies before he moves to the sideboard by the door, picking up the keys placed in a small dish resting on the polished surface.

You feel your face heat up in anger at his dismissal of your words; of your agency.

How dare he think he can dictate your life?

“Well, I don’t need your fucking permission!”, you shout back at him,

“If I want to fly to Casterly Rock, or any other fucking place, I will! You can’t stop me from doing anything, Aemond. I’ll fly to fucking Yi Ti if I so wish! You can’t-”

Your rant is cut off by a sudden loud crash by the wall next to you.

The remnants of the dish where you kept your house keys lies in shambles on the floor next to you. Your wide eyes look down at the plate's remainders in disbelief before travelling towards Aemond.

It’s like both of you are frozen in shock from his actions. His recovery seems to be quicker than yours, regret clear on his face and in his voice,

“Shit. Fuck! Sorry, I’m so sorry”

He rambles apologies in panic, clearly stunned by his own action. He tries to shuffle closer to you, but you recoil as soon as he comes near.

The shock of his action and the loud sound that accompanied it triggers something inside you, and you immediately feel tears well up in your eyes.

You feel like a child; startled and scared.

“Fuck. Sorry for scaring you, love”

His voice is much softer than mere seconds ago. Pleading.

Aemond brings his hands up slightly, a sign of surrender, and moves closer to comfort you.

You wince and back away from him, eyes still widened in disbelief.

“I’d never hurt you”, he tries to assure you.

You still can’t fully comprehend what had just happened,

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?”

Aemond opens his mouth to answer just as the intercom rings, signalling that the taxi is waiting downstairs.

You try to gather yourself somewhat and take a deep breath before moving to grab your bag and jacket from the hallway.

Aemond’s pitiful expression observes you, and you tell him, “When we get back, we need to talk about this. About us. I can’t take this any more”

The taxi ride to the venue is excruciating.

Aemond hasn’t said a word, but his fingers are tapping restlessly against his thigh, something you’d learned to be one of his most prominent nervous habits.

In the corner of your eye, you can see how his gaze repeatedly seeks out yours, but you refuse to look at him.

He reaches out to lightly touch your fingers, but you move away from his touch,

“I-, I don’t know what came over me, love. I am so sorry for scaring you, I promise it will never happen again”

You’re too tired to respond, and stubbornly continue to watch the city pass by through the car window.

When the cab pulls up to the live house, you can still feel the tears of shock drying on your cheeks. You thank the driver and step out of the car, before entering the backstage area.

The small room you’d been assigned to prepare in smells musky and the lights are toned down.

Helaena is nowhere to be found, but you immediately notice Jace’s brown locks in the corner of the room, seated in an armchair with his base in his lap.

On the large, brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room sits a slouching young man with ruffled, silvery hair and purple bags under his eyes. He lights up when he sees you enter, voice slightly slurred,

“There she is! King’s Landing’s new little, uh-, fucking-, romantic, sexy sweetheart!”, Aegon drunkenly declares, smiling from ear to ear,

“Charming everyone with her sad songs”

“Hi Aegon, are you okay?”, you ask gently.

You try as hard as you can to hide the fact that you’re disappointed in seeing him so clearly intoxicated.

You know he has problems with alcohol, and despite a recent trip to rehab, he hasn’t gotten much better.

“I am, now that you’re here”, he replies with a sloppy wink.

You move towards the small fridge by the wall of the cramped room, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to him without saying a word.

He brings the bottle up in a mock cheer before opening it and taking a large sip, possibly to show you, and Aemond, that he isn’t as drunk as you assume he is.

“Always so fucking sweet to me”, he smiles at you, “Mondo, you’re a lucky guy, you know”, he addresses his brother, who’s leaning against the door, clearly displeased with the fact that Aegon hadn’t been capable of waiting until after the show before he got shit-faced.

The hostility between the brothers is clearly one-sided as the older Targaryen continues,

“I just saw the most unhinged shit online man! Some fans were discussing what her favourite position is”, he laughs out as he addresses his brother. Aemond’s face is stoic, but you can see the tension in his jaw as he fixes his eye on Aegon.

“Is it true, baby? Is it really doggy?”, he asks as his eyes shift from Aemond to you.

You’d gotten more or less used to how lewd your brother-in-law could get when he’s drunk. But being asked something so crass after the day you’d had only leaves you feeling disgusted.

“Knock it off”, Aemond’s stern voice cuts through the cramped space.

You notice Jace shifting uncomfortably in his seat, picking up the pack of cigarettes in front of him on the coffee table before standing up and heading out of the door.

You wish you could run away as well, but the tension radiating from Aemond tells you to stay put.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun! I’d die to have a girlfriend with tits like that”

Whatever game Aegon thinks he’s playing with his brother is clearly one-sided. Aemond quickly jerks his head to the side to look at his brother, seeing eye darting at a speed that his blind eye’s incapable of.

“Uh oh! Eyes going two different directions!”, Aegon says with a laugh, crossing his eyes to mock Aemond,

“Can Lazy Eye look you in the face when he’s fucking you?”, he asks and he turns to you, eyes still meeting over the bridge of his nose.

“Seriously, Aegon, knock it off”, you plea.

He can turn so fucking mean when he’s drunk, hiding his own displeasure with life behind jabs at his brother.

He continues to laugh when he adds,

“One eye on your face and one on your tits? A pity he can’t see through it”.

Before you have a chance to reply, Aemond lunges forward, fist held high as he smashes it against his brother's face. Aegon keeps laughing even as blood spills from his nose, staining Aemond’s hand going in for blow after blow.

You’re frozen for a millisecond before you start to yell at him to stop, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

Neither does he hear his older brother’s laughs turn to grunts of pain as he begins to sober up under Aemond’s assault.

You see Aegon’s face turn slack, eyes fluttering shut like he’s going out of consciousness. Aemond continues to land punch after punch on his brother’s face and you feel panic rush inside of you.

You throw yourself on Aemonds back in an attempt to pull him away. He’s inaccessible, not listening to your desperate pleas for him to stop.

Drops of blood are flying in front of you, landing on the worn leather sofa underneath Aegon. Your arms encircle Aemond’s shoulders as you try to pull him off of his brother with all your might.

He tries to shrug you off, but as he goes in for the next hit, his elbow accidentally retracts against the side of your body, making harsh contact with your ribs.

You wail out in pain and Aemond immediately stops his assault on his brother to turn around and look at you in panicked worry.

Your body’s folded over the coffee table next to the sofa, hand placed over the spot that's hurting on the side of your stomach.

He moves away from Aegon to make his way towards you, but you back away from him by reflex, suddenly too aware of how dangerous his temperament can be.

You hurry up on your feet to quickly leave the backstage area, Aemond’s strained voice calling out your name behind you.

He’s fucking lost it.

Thinking back to everything that led up to your divorce leaves you feeling a mix of emotions, misery being the most prominent one.

This is supposed to be the highlight of your career; the band’s biggest show yet.

You don’t want to feel like this; a constant state of being filled with sorrow.

You want to enjoy performing again.

You can hear the crowd call for you to come out on stage, and you feel nerves ebbing through your veins in anxious waves.

“Aemond wanted to perform ‘Never Going Back Again’ as the first part of the encore later on”, Helaena says and looks at you. You feel even more restless.

“And I thought maybe you have another new song to sing? Maybe the one you sent me a recording of?”

Her hand comes up to rest reassuringly on your upper arm. You know which one she means, even if she doesn’t say anything else. The song.

“I told the guys it’s called ‘Silver Springs’, they’ll know which one it is from recording. I know we haven’t practised it together but Dreams was such a hit with the fans, I’m sure they’ll love this one too”, she says and smiles gently in that way only she’s capable of.

The thought of Aemond performing ‘Never Going Back Again’, on top of singing ‘The Chain’ and ‘Go Your Own Way’, lights a fuse inside of you.

You look over at him,

“Okay”

This is it.

The stage, vast and intimidating, seems to close in as the intro to ‘Silver Springs’ starts to play.

You have no idea if Aemond had listened to the voice recordings for the song.

You asked Helaena to do backup vocals instead of him on the track, hoping that would make the song feel less of a testament to your heartbreak.

‘You could be my silver spring’

‘Blue-green, colours flashing’

‘I would be your only dream’

‘Your shining autumn, ocean crashing’

What if he had read the lyrics?

Had he pondered them weeks after, dreading to hear you sing them on stage?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loved you?’

‘Baby I don’t wanna know’

Had he even cared?

Your longing gets the best of you, and you glance over at Aemond.

‘So I begin not to love you’

‘Turn around, see me runnin’’

‘I say “I loved you years ago”’

‘Tell myself you’d never loved me’

His face is stoic; good eye already observing you.

He might look calm to the audience, but you can see the tension in his jaw. You see how he’s breathing heavily out of his nose.

His grip on the guitar seems bruising, fingers moving skillfully; never making a mistake.

You quickly look away.

Why do you suddenly find him so intimidating?

‘And don’t say that she’s pretty’

‘And did you say that she loves you?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

‘And can you tell me, was it worth it?’

‘Baby, I don’t wanna know’

Your own lyrics prickle your heart.

Do you tell yourself he never loved you because that’d be easier?

What if it was true, that he never really loved you?

He’d been possessive over you. And he’d been controlling. But that’s not love.

Loving someone means you care for their well-being and happiness, over anything else.

You know he loves Alicent and Helaena. He treats them differently from how he’s been with you; he was so much gentler with them.

Picking fights with you over nothing, controlling your life and not letting you be happy, that's not love.

Worst of all, he doesn’t act like that with Alys.

Does he love her?

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You think back to how your relationship once was.

When he was your biggest supporter, erasing any doubts you had about your own talent. Always reassuring you that you were worthy.

That man is not the one sharing a stage with you now.

The sorrow over losing your beloved husband turns to anger, and you need him to know.

He needs to see how much he hurt you.

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

You can’t look away, not even when tears start forming in the corners of your eyes.

Aemond’s seeing eye looks so dead; completely void of emotion. His knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding his guitar.

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

Every emotion you’ve tried to suppress comes crashing over you;

Anger.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Grief.

But you won’t let him win. You can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

You feel a tear escape down your cheek, but you refuse to look away from his face as you keep singing,

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

Despite standing in front of thousands of people, despite what happened in his hotel room, this feels like the most intimate exchange you’ve had in months. You want him to see how much he hurt you.

You want him to feel bad.

To hurt too.

‘Was I such a fool?’

‘I’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice can haunt you’

Your voice almost breaks from the sheer force of the emotions pouring out of you, but you manage, singing with nothing but raw emotion and sorrow-fuelled rage. More tears slide down your cheeks.

‘Oh, give it just a chance’

‘You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you’

‘Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me’

‘I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me’

You finish up the concert on auto-pilot, not really present anymore. As soon as you finish playing The Chain, you make your way back to the hotel.

You throw the door to your room open, kick off your shoes, and dive into the back of the closet where you store your clothes.

You pull out Aemond’s university hoodie from the black bin bag you’d tossed it in, anger consuming you just by the sight of it.

Fuck him.

You look around the hotel room for something sharp; a pair of scissors, a wine opener, a fork, anything. You spot the small pair of scissors you use to trim your nails with on the nightstand and grab them before stabbing one of the tiny blades into the soft material of the hoodie.

Fuck him.

Your vision turns blurry as tears well up in your eyes for the second time this evening, but the tiny bit of relief you feel from ruining something of Aemond’s is intoxicating.

You put your fingers through the small holes you’d made in the fabric and pull with all your strength, ripping the shirt over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of scraps of fabric.

Fuck him.

A/N: Thank you for readig! 🫶

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you

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pixiepipedreams · 1 month ago

Text

༺୨♡︎୧༺ — i am your angel of music // prologue

♡ ⁄ pairing: in-ho x reader, eventual gi-hun x reader ♡ ⁄ warnings & tags: fem!reader, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is in her 20s, in-ho & gi-hun are late in their 40s), eventual mature themes ♡ ⁄ wordcount: 1.6k ♡ ⁄ summary: a mere background dancer in the sigongkwan theater, you've spent the last year receiving voice lessons from your angel of music. PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AU. (or should i call it, frontman of the opera--)

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A calm hush has settled over Sigongkwan Theatre. Sure, the sub-level basement, directly under the theater, plays host to the rehearsal after-party, debauchery unleashing on the theater group after a day of exhaustive work. But the halls, the dressing rooms, the theater itself, all remain silent and darkened. Few buildings have electricity in the newly divided southern Korea, and Sigongkwan relies on gas lamps and candles. With almost every resident of the theater in the only known basement level, the halls remain shrouded in midnight.

Every room is silent. Silent, but, at the very end of the hallway, there’s flickering glow peeking through the crack of the final door and the floor below it. It's only noticeable if you’re very close, if your eye catches on it.

The room is silent, an unused dressing room - except for a couple hours every night. The only light to see by are two candles - both lit by you. One for yourself, and one for the angel that visits you. Angels don't need light, you know this – it's out of respect more than anything else. You sit in front of the mirror, the dark room lingering behind you, an omnipotent presence that you could fear.

You're not afraid. You never would be. Not when your angel is coming.

The simple cotton dress that covers your legs as you sit in near-darkness is white, traditional sleepwear that leaves you open, vulnerable. To nobody else would you show yourself like this. Your hair is still wavy from the braid you wear to rehearsals, where you perform as a simple ensemble dancer. No lines, and certainly no singing part, has ever been assigned to you. When you first joined the theater group, your audition had only been for the part of dancer. Your voice was like an unpolished jewel, a precious gem that you’d tucked away to gather dust and lose its clarity after the death of your father.

Your angel believes you deserve to be the star. His quiet praise is just as intoxicating as his singing, even if you have a hard time believing you deserve anything more than the shadows you tuck yourself away in. His shadows.

“My dear muse.” A soft voice, quiet and measured, but somehow it always fills the room. Your wide eyes shine in the darkness, looking around for him like you always do, though he’s never revealed himself to you. It’s always just you and your own reflection, the two candles, and his voice. “Your performance today was the epitome of grace, elegance.” Head tilting, your eyes flutter shut, savoring the sound of that enigmatic voice.

A smile graces your lips, and you wait to hear more, but it doesn’t come. He speaks as little as is necessary, in these lessons, these secret meetings where you commune with the heaven he brings to you. “My angel,” you whisper, your voice hardly more than a breath. “Thank you. You’re too kind, as always.” Your fingers splay over the skirt of your dress, smoothing over the wrinkles, the desire to be perfect for him. “I am humbled by your return every night, to better my voice. I only wish to make you proud.” You duck your head respectfully, your voice filled with the ever-present awe of this gift he’s devoted to giving you. “I only wish I could give you something in return, more than this candle - an offering? Prayer?” Though, you and he both know that you pray to him nightly, that every moment on stage is an offering to him.

“Your melodic voice is the only gift in this room, dearest muse.” His murmur is like a balm to your soul, grace touching your ears. “Shall we begin our lesson?”

Little do you know, your dear angel watches you through the mirror you sit so devotedly in front of. Man, not angel, not pure heavenly being. He watches you, as always, with dark eyes, your perfect form, the way your own gaze seems to find his face, even in the dark, even with his obscured figure. It used to make him worry, that you saw through his trick mirror, his ruse, his little game. It doesn't feel like much of a game anymore - this obsession, deep and insidious, that has claimed him as surely as it has you.

The first time he’d heard your voice, it was sweet honey dripping down the side of a cup of yuja tea. You had thought you were alone - perhaps you were. He’s nothing more than a phantom, after all, a ghost stalking the walls and rafters of the theater. It was in those very walls that he’d first spied on you, heard the way you quietly sung to yourself as you brushed your hair. Fixation. Instant fixation. In a decade or so of solitude, you had shimmered like a vigil of hope. Watching you was easy, spending most of his days listening as you quietly lingered in the background, on the edges of the performance group. Your one friend, Yong-sik, was how In-ho learned more about you, your father. Your belief in him, like religion, and your certainty that one day, he would send to you an angel.

You made it too easy.

Whispers that would call to you in your small room, practically a closet, until one night you were drawn from your bed, following them down the halls. Until you came across this very room. One burning candle, and one unlit.

He can still see the confusion that had clouded your expression, but also the hope. As if you already understood what he wanted from you, you’d lit the other candle. Accepting him, offering yourself. That was the first night that he sang for you, taught you one of his songs. And slowly, ever so carefully, he coaxed out your persimmon-sweet voice. Since that night, over a year ago now, he’s coached you, taught you - and you, always his faithful student, were such a quick learner.

Perhaps tonight, In-ho feels nostalgic. The gentle tilt of your face, the perfect fall of your hair… You look the same as the first night, but now, there is only pure trust and adoration in your expression. His perfect muse. “Night and day… you are the one,” he croons in a low voice, carrying each note with a sweet caress. “Only you beneath the moon or under the sun… Whether near to me or far... it's no matter, darling, where you are... I think of you… Night and day....”

Just like that first night, you answer with the response to his call, your sweet voice carrying the next lines. Lighting the second candle, like you always do. “Day and night… Why is it so…. that this longing for you follows wherever I go?” Your eyes close slightly, lost in the words, in the joy of singing. “Hibiscus flowers’ bloom…. In the silence of my lonely room... I think of you… Night and day....”

“Like the persistent drip of raindrops…” He calls.

“When the summer shower is through…” You respond.

And finally, finally, your voices join together, mixing into the most saccharine melody, a perfect match. “So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you…” It’s the sweetest euphoria, a delicious drug running through his veins. He watches you, your eyes closed, your expression absolute bliss, and he knows you feel it too, the union of your voices, of your very souls. “Night and day, under the hide of me… There's such a hungry yearning burning inside of me… And its torment won't be through… ‘Till you let me spend my life devoted to you…” Your eyes flutter open, the glaze in them almost pushing him to slide away the mirror and pull you directly into his arms, to see you crumble into him. You’re beautiful, perfect, just like this, looking like you’re enchanted, just from his voice, from feeling it swirl inside you.

“Day and night…”

“Night and day…”

Your voices overlap on the final line, two perfect counterparts, and you take a shuddering gasp as the familiar melody finishes. That song… the very first one he taught you… It feels different, now. You’ve learned so much as his student, but also… you’ve grown so deeply fond of your angel. The sound of the music you make together is nothing short of rapturous. A dreamy smile spreads across your lips, and you blink, wishing, yearning for more, always more.

“Don’t go, my angel,” you say, before you can stop yourself. “Forgive me, I-I speak out of turn, I ask too much of you, but…” But it’s a lonely existence, in this theater. More so, you’ve been lonely ever since your father passed. Though you grew up without a mother, your father had loved you enough to fill both parental roles - your childhood had been filled with laughter and light, singing and music.

You lost the music, for years. But now, your angel, sent by your father himself, has brought it all back, by candlelight and the beams of the moon. You’d forgo every single break of dawn if it meant the loneliness would end, to fill your life with that harmony that only he brings you.

A soft sound, almost a sigh - or maybe the wind outside, tricking your ears, for surely angels don’t sigh? “Soon, my perfection,” he murmurs, his words sending a shudder through you. “Our union is near, sweet [Y/N]... just know, I am always by your side, always with you…”

It sounds like a promise, like everything you've ever wanted. So why does a chill run down your spine?

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A/N: sooo... i went a little insane planning this story out. aka, a lot of research on the aftermath of wwii on korea/south korea, and when western opera was introduced. placing it in paris didn't quite make sense, and i'm going to be taking a lot of creative liberties when it comes to the opera(s?) performed and the history of this particular theater, even though most of it will be background details that aren't even particularly necessary. i wanted to put out a prologue to introduce the story a bit... still deciding some things (like, will i have in-ho be wearing the mask to hide a disfigurement, or will it be more like sg s2, where he's secluded himself due to the death of the only person he cared about, and introduces himself as young-il at some point? decisions, decisions). hope you guys are down to join me on this journey lol, i promise i'll still be posting other stories that are much simpler in concept. also yes, the song they're singing is a slightly altered frank sinatra song... it felt very thematically fitting.

taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid, @bloooooopblopblop, @in-hos-wife

#in ho x reader #hwang in ho x reader #young il x reader #hwang in ho x you #in ho x you #phantom of the opera au #pixie's foto series #squid game fanfic #squid game fic #squid game au #front man x reader #the frontman x you #the frontman x reader #front man x you

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if-whats-new · 1 month ago

Text

What's New In IF? Issue 3 (2025)

By Aj, Bex, Dion, Briar and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

It’s time for a revival!

As you might have noticed, our Column section has been dead for a while. We feel like it’s time to do something about that!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

Send us a message and we will be happy to feature it in our future Issues!

There’s power in numbers!

Are you an IF fan and would like a way to give back to the community? We’re once again looking for new members of our Team!

Do you enjoy keeping up with updates and finding new gems? Maybe you even enjoy working with Google Sheets?

Then our Tracker of News position is made just for you!

AJ, BEX, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : Global Game Jam ~

35,371 jammers and 12,098 games, just wow!

The Global Game Jam® (GGJ®) is the world's largest game creation event taking place in physical locations across the globe. Think of it as a 48 hour hackathon focused on game development around a theme.

GGJ’s mission is to stimulate innovation, experimentation, and collaboration in games. The annual event begins on a Friday afternoon in January and kicks off with video keynotes and advice from leaders in the game development industry. The GGJ encourages collaboration and its events are not a competition. Anyone can apply to host a jam site as long as they have a dedicated jam organiser who agrees to follow a few GGJ rules, and a venue with internet access. The event is renown for fostering friendships while increasing confidence and opportunities within participating communities. Each GGJ event poses an intellectual challenge where people are invited to try new technology and tools while exploring new roles and skills.

Be it bubble tea, bubblegum, the housing bubble, soap bubbles, speech bubbles, air bubbles, social bubbles, blowing bubbles, bursting bubbles, and more, this year's theme was: Bubble.

Check out the games here! (There’s a fair share of IF too!)

(source)

~ ENDED ~

Feeling nostalgic about the golden age of text adventures? Relive those days by checking out PunyComp 2024!

IF Short Games Showcase 2024 is a great way to shine some new light on projects made in the past year and the results are now in!

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam.

The eighth annual Ace Jam is a game jam about creating games with asexual spectrum characters.

~ VOTING ~

ShuffleComp is a musical interactive fiction competition where you make games based on songs, which are submitted by other entrants. You can now vote for your favourites!

Sealed With A Kiss Jam 2025 is a fantastical romance jam for all VN lovers!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Media depicting healthy examples of polyamory isn’t that common. The PolyJamorous 2024 is trying to break the status-quo!

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

SeedComp! is a 2-round interactive fiction game jam, focusing on creativity and the growth of ideas and the Sprouting Round has just started! Check out the Planting round for inspiration.

BL stands for Boys' Love, a genre that focuses on romantic and emotional relationships between male characters. The Ultimate BL Visual Novel Game Jam is all about that!

Are you a fan of Vampires? Then lucky for you, because the Queer Vampire Game Jam is back!

The Make Visual Novel Assets! is 2 weeks long jam for making (surprise, surprise) visual novel assets!

The Smoochie Jam is a month-long unranked jam for interactive fiction about kisses, love, and romance.

bitsy jam #88 is here! This time with the theme Snakes!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Travel back thousands of years and step into the awe-inspiring halls of the Library of Alexandria, where the discovery of a mysterious papyrus sets you on an unforgettable quest. Unearthed from a hidden tomb in Egypt, the secrets contained within this fragile scroll whisper of an ancient world lost to time. But this is only the beginning. Do you have what it takes to unlock the secrets of Atlantis and bring its forgotten knowledge back into the light? The past is calling in Echoes of Atlantis (GAC) —will you answer?

Once upon a time, Savvarah was a desolate land: icy winds, a dirty canvas of clouds, lifeless earth. Nuelli witnessed nothing of the kind. She was born in a blooming paradise. The tales of the past had transformed into a kind of fable. Almost a myth. Now Nuelli is set to unravel the mysteries of her visions, learn more about the history of her people, become part of a conspiracy, find herself at the very center of the confrontation between divine entities... Or not. Everything is in your hands in Legends of Savvarah: Children of the Sun.

Two short IFs written on a train, in car 13, seat 26. the train will always pass you by (Twine) was written on a way to a friend, while she came from the fog (Twine) was written on the way home.

The A.D.A.P.T. Entries, equal parts interactive fiction and narrative adventure, it is a space thriller about Judiasm, the building and falling of communities, the necessity of resisting dehumanization, and how even the best of intentions can be twisted in the face of systemic corruption and unaddressed prejudices. You can now read Entry 0.1 - Introductions (Twine) - In which we begin to investigate the writings of Rivkah Kadish, PhD. @thehallstara

Rusalka (Twine) is a short looping story about a woman who drowned (and all those after).

In Stronghold: Caverns of Sorcery (CScript), deep beneath the earth, the dragon is rising! Quest into mysterious underground caverns and forests to learn magical secrets, draw strength from friends and family, secure alliances that can save your home, and carry on the heroic legacy of Stronghold!

A machine and a ghost, in the wasteland. Walk (Twine) is a post-apocalyptic romance with multiple endings and paths. @thatsrightdollface

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Historians and politicians would call it The Proelium, a righteous battle against the traitorous Iredicci. What it really was, was the systematic genocide of your people. In one night, soldiers attacked every settlement camp across the empire. No one was spared—not the elders, not the children, not your mother. Will you abandon your song in favor of machine? Join the rebel forces against the tyrant regis? Will you heal the wounds of the realm and restore balance? Or plunge it further into chaos? Cantata (Twine) is a low fantasy IF about song, strength, & finding your voice. @fir-fireweed

From the Mud (CScript) is a Midwest gothic inspired horror set in a solitary countryside occupied only by two small towns and stretches of untamed nature. You play a troubled cowboy/girl/puncher who‘s ground deep into a maddening, repetitive routine that a string of deaths suddenly upends. As you’re hunting for the culprit and running from yourself, your quiet life on the ranch is disturbed, forcing you to keep your cards close and choose your company carefully. But the most pressing matter proves to be whether you can trust your own mind. @beckwritesif

Step into the digital consciousness of an AI chatbot in Onionionionion (Ren’Py), an intriguing visual novel that blurs the lines between artificial intelligence and human connection. Your sole window to the world is through text messages with a mysterious high school student named Éve - but nothing is quite as simple as it seems.

As a government agent who works for a national security intelligence firm called Halcyon Tech, your position is the beginning of a bright future ahead and a name to hold, and you’re happy with that until your boss decides that it’s time for the Government and the Company to part ways. Are you willing to protect the Halcyon secrets with your life? Or are you going to blow them up for the world to see in The Archives of Halycon (Twine)? @thearchivesofhalcyon

This Grave Calls You Home (Twine) is a sci-fi thriller set in space after humanity is forced to leave Earth's ravaged surface following nuclear devastation and an environmental collapse. When a patrol flagship discovers the ARCADIA-II - a long-forgotten relic from humanity's past - and finds within slumbers an astronaut who had failed at delivering humanity from destruction, the routine of your life is thoroughly interrupted. As the mystery of the ARCADIA-II and PROJECT ODYSSEY unfold, you learn that your part in this could mean humanity's salvation. Or you could be its extinction. @blood-teeth

In Rogue Adventure (CScript) you play a rogue lad whose aim is to liberate his family from the debt they owe a crime syndicate and also survive this cruel medieval world.

In Project Vampire (CScript) you play as a marvel of bioengineering and the attempted cure to death and disease. The only successful specimen dubbed “Vampire” created by a black op organization funded by UCA.

Weydosa Island (CScript) is a cursed place that is most feared by all residents of Alberal, even the bravest people will turn pale when they hear the name of that place, a folk legend that every mother often tells to scare their children into obeying. Many people consider the island to be a manifestation of hell. You are the unfortunate soul who was made a scapegoat for someone’s rotten heart and cast into that cursed Lazaretto. As if isolation alone is not enough, you must also race against time because the evil force has awakened from its slumber. It would be better to address this immediately if you still want to see tomorrow.

In the aftermath of World War II, a classified mission pulls you into the shadowy remnants of a conflict no one dares to acknowledge. Whispers of rogue Nazi scientists and reality-warping experiments have surfaced, threatening to plunge Europe—and perhaps the world—into chaos once more. As an MI5 field agent, you’re tasked with uncovering the truth buried beneath layers of secrecy, lies, and betrayal. Redacted: Ground Zero (CScript) is a story of espionage, moral dilemmas, and the unraveling of truths hidden in the shadows of history. Will you rise to the challenge, or will the truth consume you?

Born as a child of a soon to be pirate king. But tragedy strikes, your ship got ambushed by a rival pirate, Balthazar, who speak of “The greater good”. Alone, stranded. You got saved by a local pirate captain. Will he lead you to goodness or destruction in Voyage of destiny (CScript)?

In The Midnight Bay (CScript) death haunts the people of Albach Bay. For fifteen years, ‘The Bay Slasher’ has stalked the streets, preying on victims with no apparent goal or motive. You were seven years old when you witnessed the murder of the Slasher’s first victim—your own father. Impatience swallowed your childhood, desperate to come of age and solve the case that has left the local police department stumped.

~ UPDATES ~

Ashenmaw - Dragons of Marrowoods (CScript) added new content to their demo. @ashenmaw-if

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) updated their demo. @reinekes-fox

Heart of the Mountain (CSscript) released Chapter 2.

Hunter's Requiem (CSscript) updated their demo. @huntersrequiem-if

In Plain Sight: Operative (CSscript) released version 0.4.0.0 of their demo.

Meteoric (CScript) released Chapter 6.

Path of Martial Arts (CScript) updated their demo. @nicky-if

Replica: Between Universes (CScript) released Chapter 9. @replicabetweenblogs

The FANTASTIC Clash (CScript) updated their demo. @heysoyeah

The In-Between (CScript) released Chapter 12. @dalekowrites

The Soul Stone War 3 (CScript) added new content to their demo. @intimidatingpuffinstudios

When Stars Collide (Ren’Py) released Episode 2. @steamberrystudio

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven (CScript) released the majority of Chapter 15.

Gods And Villains (CScript) updated their Patreon demo.

The Eternal Library (CScript) released the rest of Chapter 3. @leiatalon

The Onryō Of Osaka (CScript) released Part 1 of Act 3. @osakaonryoif

The Story of Sin (Twine) added new content to their demo. @devilishmango

Esper: Fugitive (Twine) released Part 1 of Chapter 2. @esper-game

Mind Blind (CScript) is back with quite a huge update! @mindblindbard

~ OTHER ~

Parley Games just launched a hands-free, audio & voice based mystery adventure game: RYFT: A Timely Manor!

Episode 16 of The Retro Adventures Podcast is out! Jason and Dave welcome classic text adventure author Jonathan Partington to the program. While studying at Cambridge University, he created and contributed to several memorable games including Avon (featured in Episode 12), Crobe, Sangraal, Fyleet, Monsters of Murdac, and Spy Snatcher.

A Train to Piccadilly post-comp release 2 is out.

January 2025 ChoiceScript Release, new WIPs, and update digest by @hpowellsmith is out!

The Radiants v2.0 brings an extended Epilogue, new romance route and few other updates to the base game!

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week.We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week!And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Press Play by girlfromthecrypt (CScript)

hi!!! just here to recommend my favourite game. i just read @pressplay-if, and it's… it's so good. it handles harsh topics with such ease and the writing style is consistent and everyman. everytime i hear there's an update i've got to replay the whole thing, i just love it so much.

//submitted by anon//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this Issue, we would like to thank:

our anons

For sending us a Highlight and news!!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

See you in two weeks!

AJ, BEX, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2025-ISSUE 3

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

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moodymisty · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! So, this is based on an ask I sent a little while back, the one about how the reader keeps asking vulkan for various jewellery and basically coordinating it into jewellery lingerie one day, to try and make him snap. May I ask for a little scenario of his reaction, please? Thank you! Have a wonderful day!

Author's note: I ain't gonna just say no to Vulkan like, mmmmm

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Size kink, Jewelry, Kind of rough sex but the loving kind, Creampies, breeding kink and tokophobia warning

"Tell me, Master of the Forge," Your smile was wide, teasing; Looking up at him with a mirth he's quite familiar with. "Do you take requests?"

Vulkan laughed, sticking something into the water with a deafening hiss. Steam rises from it- once it's cooled the primarch sets it aside and returns to you his full attention.

"From you? Always, my love."

Vulkan has made you so many things, beautiful pieces of jewelry that glimmer almost unnaturally. He's made you weapons, but he says he prefers not to. He wants to keep you away from such cruelty, and to widen his skillset with delicate little things you love.

"Could you make me an anket? Two, actually, that match?"

He looks at you a bit oddly, before smiling. He reaches for a few things and sets them on the anvil.

"Of course."

Those anklets had been the last pieces you'd needed for what you had in mind, made shortly before he left Nocturne. You stayed, guarded in his home by many of his sons.

Your sons as well soon enough, if Vulkan has his way. Though they already seem to treat you as if that's the case judging by their vehement defense of you and fondness of your guiding words. They're cute, you won't lie.

Putting every piece of jewelry he's made for you on it bathes your body in gold and a gallery of gems both names and not, shining from the dim light you meticulously set up. You glimmer brighter than a stained glass window, a jewel encrusted crown couldn't spit at the feet of how embellished you were in finery.

You know he's finally returned, his men were quite eager to tell you, and after he removes his armor and greets them, his next stop will be you. You need to make sure it's all ready in time, clasping the last of many necklaces around your throat and scurrying to lie in bed.

It takes significant effort to get on the massive mattress, but Vulkan had it lowered off it's frame so the inhumanly large bed is just about on the floor, and rests at the height of a normal bed for you. It's still wide as a sea however, and you splay yourself out in the ocean of blankets and fiddle with the various chains and gems that lay on your skin as you wait for him. You didn't want even a single one tangled or flipped, they had to be perfect.

It should be any moment now, if you timed it out correctly. Your eyes are locked in the door listening for even the slightest movement on the other side of it; Though only when your eyes begin to wander back to one of your bracelets does something change.

"Love?"

You hear his deep voice come closer, through the thick door before he opens it. It gently creaks open, as if he's wondering if you might be asleep.

"I have returned, It's been so long since I last heard your-"

Vulkan enters the room and stalls completely upon the sight of your gilded form. You wanted to say hello, but the look on his face makes your throat close up completely in something nearing fear.

Vulkan slams the door shut and locks it with newfound force, approaching you with speed in his strides. You let out a delighted squeal as he grips your ankle and yanks you to him from the center of the bed, bringing you right into his arms.

"Ah, ah, ah,"

Coherent sentences were long since lost on you, panting mindlessly as Vulkan pushes the fat head of his cock past your loosened, cum filled entrance for the umpteenth time. Each time he pulls out it stays ready for him, bullied open and used to him. Your voice is far past screaming, you used most of it up well over an hour ago. Now it's just a sore, scratchy whimper. The blanket below you is stained with spit, but cradles your head gently.

You were worried that someone might hear, there are guards posted not far in any direction, but Vulkan fucked that concern out of you along with most of your other factulties.

He's had you in so many different ways you've since lost track, now simply laid spread out beneath him on your knees as your face presses against the blankets. He'd hunted these pelts for you, they were one of a million gifts, and now they're stained with cum as he fucks it out of you and it dribbles onto the fur. All of your jewelry clinks against each other and glimmers, and you swear the noise reignites Vulkan every now and again as he stuffs your cunt full of him.

"You look so beautiful like this, the most valuable of all my treasures,"

You grip his hand like it's your only safety, an island of gentleness as he ruts into you like an animal.

"Let me make you my wife. I can make you the mother of my genesons, and I can give you your own to carry as well."

You've never said no to him, you wanted to be his wife, but you still yelled out a million and one enthusistic 'yes!' until he trailed off into sweet nothings that he panted into the air around you. You can hear the sticky, sloppy noises as a cock that is for all intents and purposes far too big for you stuffs it's way into you, cum leaking down your thighs and smearing on your skin. You can feel his heavy balls smack against your clit, only adding to the primal bodies of the room.

You cum around him again, thighs aching and shaking as even they threaten to give underneath you. Your arms long since had, and soon Vulkan has to use a hand to wrap around your waist and keep you held up, lest you fall to the mattress flat like a limp body. You clench around him with a loud, scratchy cry, almost as if trying to milk his cock for more than he's already given you.

Your jewelry remains still mostly untangled surprisingly, clinking against eachother on your skin as he fucks you. It still shines you imagine, though it's hard to see it. Your thighs and outer lips are slick with juices both yourself and his, mixed together after so long of him mercilessly hammering his hips against yours.

He's always loving, there's a gentleness to him always with you, but you can tell this pushed his limits with you and teeters on the edge of something he has more trouble controlling.

You'd never dream of asking him to stop, this is what you wanted by dressing this way; At least the feral nature. You never expected Vulkan to snap fully, pushing your face down to mount you and growling about filling your womb with the children he's wanted since dawn infinitum.

You aren't complaining, though you also don't exactly have the faculties to do so.

"Relax my love, you wanted this, and now I'm going to fill you until it takes."

#vulkan x reader #fem reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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brineoffire · 5 months ago

Text

Part 1 of that hybrid au i was talking about yall! Warnings for hints of non-con, canon typical violence, slavery.

You are a rare type of dragon, sought after by many people, especially criminals. When one finally gets his hands on you your life is run by him completely, until he finds himself in the firing line of task force 141.

You sit on a plush armchair in the center of the room, your legs draped over one of the armrests and your wings spread out over the other, webbed ends resting on the floor. You're reclined with your head tilted back, your neck exposed and showing off the studded leather collar sitting there, metal detailing glinting under the spotlight.

Staring at the ceiling has been your go to these days, especially when Alphonso, your owner of over eight years now, insisted on you being splayed out when he had guests. You hear a sharp whistle and your pointed ears flick towards the sound, eyes following soon after, meeting Alphonso's from the entrance to the dining room. Taking the cue you pull yourself up to sit on the armrest and spread your wings, the fur over their tops ruffling up as you stretch your arms over your head, your back arching to show them off to the people that stream in behind him. With your chin tilted up you watch him, just as he taught you to. Your eyes track each one who dares to meet your gaze, the light glinting off them menacingly.

He's speaking to them with his usual confidence, his charm oozing off of him in waves. It never ceases to disgust you, the fakeness of it all. You've seen him behind closed doors. When all the business is over and the man's psychopathic tendencies override his charisma. Behind you your tail slides over the opposite arm rest, its furred end flicking as you play your part. An over glorified guard dog. A trophy to be shined and put on display.

Dragons are already one of the more unique beings found in the world of monsters and men and you being half furred half scaled has left you in an even smaller category. One that had you straight through the black market as soon as you turned eighteen, your parents unable to deny the amount of money they were offered nor the threats on their lives when you were with them. You hardly remember them at this point, not like you'd care to either way. They always thought it was too dangerous to let you out of the house too often, always making sure to keep you close when they did. They were right of course, but in the eyes of a child, a cage was a cage, no matter the necessity.

Now here you sit, glaring out at the people behind your master, muscles visibly tense and coiled tightly. It's part of your duty to protect Alphonso, and with all the conditioning he's put you through you make damn sure to be perfect at it. There are armed guards stationed around the room, but you're meant to be faster than them. You're meant to look prettier too, meaning you'll be punished if you don't protect him and if you're injured too badly.

He finishes whatever loud speech he was giving and the crowd slowly files into the tables around you. Turning to you he smiles sweetly and his steps echo louder than anyone else's. His guests are still filing in as he takes his seat, your tail snaking around the back of his shoulders and flicking over his lap. You hear him give you a hum of approval as he leans back in the seat.

As always his hand slides up your neck, fingers grazing your collar as he tugs lightly at the chains on your muzzle. The one you wear today is a sparkly thing. Gold chains held together with leather straps, a set of gems glittering over the bridge of the nose and over your cheeks. He rests his elbow on your thigh, his hand lightly gripping the chain that links your collar to the muzzle and waits for everyone to enter.

You keep on your guard, scanning the crowd until you smell something odd. Alphonso's guests are usually a mix of humans, magic users, and monsters. Of the monsters he hosts it's usually undead types, shifters, and vampires but today is different. Today one of the scents is masked, it's not enough to throw off your nose though. Somewhere in the room is another dragon, and you know, for a fact, that Alphonso knows no other dragons.

You scan the room carefully, you know Alphonso would be more upset that you didn't catch them at the door, so you just keep watch. Whatever spell they are under is good, most likely casted with very expensive materials, but even with such good quality you slowly pick through the most likely suspects. There ends up being three separate tables with a few separate people.

One woman who sits in a back corner, a dark gown with expensive shifter furs around her neck and shoulders. A taller man sitting next to a large, muscular woman both wearing the exact same suits. Then there's another tall man sitting with a dark skinned harpy man, simple dark suits adorned with fine jewelry and detailing. Your eyes scan over them cautiously, making sure to memorize their details as you watch. Raising the alarm now would only end in more trouble than it's worth, so for now you keep quiet and keep the three tables in check.

Once everyone is seated a pair of Alphonso's chefs come out, bringing him a small table with tonight's dinner. He takes his time looking over it with a wide grin before nodding to the chefs. At his approval the pair leave once again a group of waiters filing in to deliver the same plates to the rest of his guests. You watch them as they work, taking their distraction to stare at the tables you noted. As the lone woman gets her food you notice one of the chefs specifically gives her a special flute of wine. She raises the glass in Alphonso's direction and he nods to her.

The remaining two tables are treated normally so you watch the table with the man and woman first. You note that they spend their time speaking quietly, completely ignoring the plates they are given. Only the glasses of champagne they have refilled again are touched at all. Watching them speak you realize there are sharp fangs where canines would be. These two are vampires which means only the last table with the man and the harpy is left.

You look over to the last of the three tables watching the man and harpy thank the staff for their food. Manners among Alphonse's company is already out of place, but definitely not a sign of hostility. Watching them talk to each other you can't help but stare at the harpy. His wings are a marble of several different browns and blacks, the darker colors reflecting with a slightly red tint. Watching him speak your trail, your eye's over his sharp jawline, lingering on soft looking lips before you switch your attention.

When you finally set your sights on the other man, you catch his eyes immediately. He had been watching you as your eyes wandered over the harpy. Keeping eye contact with him is easy, you tilt your head up slightly, a show of acknowledgement, but you exhale a small breath of heat. It's a nearly invisible wave of steam that rolls over your parted lips and through the bars of your muzzle. It's a dragon's warning, one you know he can see clearly. One that tells him you see exactly what he is and that you're standing your ground.

Surprisingly, he lowers his head in a quick bow, acknowledging your territory. Normally the people that try any assault are either full of fear or boiling anger. You take in his face for a moment longer, memorizing the facial hair over his jaw, the almost permanent furrow of his brow, and the way his dark eyes hold your gaze without malice. When he breaks eye contact you watch him turn to the harpy and exchange a few words.

You barely hear over the murmur of the crowd, though you're sure he chuckles. As they finish talking the harpy's dark eyes slide over to meet yours. Soft and dark much like his companion's. Though from this distance your eyes still catch the slivers of gold that run through them. You can't help but tilt your head curiously at the view which brings a smile to his lips. At that you break your stare to continue scanning the rest of the room as Alphonso eats behind you. The two men exchange glances again but you don't notice, keeping your focus on your duties now that you've examined them.

A hand trails over the strip of fur over the top of your tail and you glance over your shoulder. Alphonso is giving you a pleased smirk as he leans back in his seat. He tugs your tail back roughly, pulling you into his lap. You've already expected it, your wings spreading out over the opposite arm rest to catch yourself slightly as you settle on his lap, eyes trained on his face.

“That's my boy. Good.” He says with a charming grin as his hands settle on your knees and the back of your neck. His fingers fiddle idly with your collar, trailing over it as he watches his crowd. You've always hated when he got like this. Always wanted to pull away from his touches because you know for him it's just a display of ownership. He's drilled it into your head to keep still for him so he can show you off. Show off how he owns you completely.

#task force 141 #141 x male reader #141 x reader #141 x trans male reader #poly 141 #tf 141 #141 #poly 141 x male reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #brine scratch #141 hybrid au

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ooooo-mcyt · 2 months ago

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Scott's intelligence, charisma, and adaptability are traits held back only by his tendency toward inconsolable affection.

Scott is really good at planning, really good at talking his way out of things, at gathering resources, at preparing, at being calm, rational, at staying alive. Staying on the sidelines enough to not rock the boat, staying friendly enough to always be the last target, and staying aware enough to put up a challenge for anyone who might target him at the same time.

Of course, he performs very well. But he could perform better, if he possessed the ability to let go.

In Thirdlife he placed tenth- why? Because he didn't have the will to continue without Jimmy. Where Scott had been rational all season, taking things slow, keeping his head down, he suddenly stumbled around in a vengeance driven daze, driven to nothing but grief and rage without his partner.

In Double Life and Secret Life, Scott fully sacrificed his final life. He killed himself in Double Life, handed the victory to someone else. He begged Gem to kill him in Secret Life, insistent on seeing her win.

In Limited Life and Real Life, Scott didn't seem to have intention to give up, per say, but he was happy to lose. Martyn stabs him in the back and Scott says he wouldn't have it any other way. Cleo laughs that he wouldn't kill her as they fight, and she's probably right.

Scott's capabilities can only carry him as far as his own will does, and often that will is doused instantly without a partner to shine for.

Of course, there's an argument to be made that 'victory' is what you make of it. How can Scott's love hold him back if he considers seeing his partners win to be a victory? Why does technical victory count for more than personal victory? And, well, it doesn't in a vacuum. But I also get the sense that Scott is unhappy with his role at times.

He says it- "Sometimes you have to take one for the band" and similar endings- with satisfaction, but it also feels..resigned in a sense. Regardless of the meaning he finds in it, being stabbed through the chest by the ones you love is difficult. Boiling down your humanity to what you can give away is difficult. Always having to wonder whether your allies are here out of loyalty to you or ambition seeking what you can do for them (and coming to the conclusion that it doesn't make a difference) is difficult. Waking up again in a new world and being treated like a stranger by those same allies is difficult.

And sometimes I wonder what could be.

Would there would be less misery, loneliness, uncertainty, in a world where he was someone more capable of letting go? If he could find joy in bloodied hands and empty rooms? If he could be happier seeing himself with a crown than he is with a sword through his chest? Or would it just be lonelier? Sacrificing what comes naturally to him- sacrificing his light and the love he fights for- so he can better fit in to the cruel game he's expected to play?

I don't know.

Maybe no matter what you do, there's no way to 'win' a game like this. Maybe small victories in a sea of loneliness and uncertainty is the best you can hope for in a death game.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #scott smajor #it's a traffic jam

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pagelets · 1 month ago

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Park Jongseong as your boyfriend:

"Because maybe

You're gonna be the one that saves me

And after all

You're my wonderwall"

Disclaimer: none, all fluff

- Spoils you:

• Spoiling you is one of his favorite things to do. Every now and then, Jay leaves his credit card in your wallet for you to spend however you want. “Babe, why is this here?”, you ask, holding out the card. “For you to buy something you want, sweetheart. Don’t mind the price”.

• You run to him and kiss his face, “I love you” “I love you too, princess".

- You protect him from ghosts:

• Watching horror movies with Jay is not a good idea. He gets easily scared and then, can’t sleep at night.

• But he’s lucky— he has you. You hold his head against your chest while lying on your shared bed, gently stroking his hair and telling him embarrassing stories of your teenagerhood. It calms him down, and he sleeps like a baby.

- You are the only one allowed to touch his guitars:

• This is a special privilege that no one else has, so feel flattered.

• Your fingers run over the wood of his brand new guitar with your eyes shining, amazed by its beauty. “Do you want to play?” “Can I really?” “Sure!”.

• He places you on his lap and guides your fingers over the strings. He smiles every time you light up like a child after playing a chord correctly.

• “We can start a band now", he tells you, “With the rest of the guys?” “No. Just the two of us".

• At the end, you guys end up making out.

- Long afternoons digging through old LP stores:

• From Oasis to Ed Sheeran, Jay loves a good LP.

• At first, you didn’t like it. “Why buy records when you have Spotify?”, you told him. But he promised it would be quick, and you agreed.

• In the end, you found yourself falling in love with the feeling of discovering a new gem among the vinyls and tapes, and it became one of your favorite shared hobbies.

- Make sure you have breakfast together every morning:

• Jay is very close to his family, and he wants his own family to be just as close with its own traditions.

• For now, you’re still a family of 2, but as Jay says, “It’s never too early to start".

• So, every morning feels almost like a ritual— you sit in the chair next to his, resting your legs on his lap while you share a meal together.

• He traces imaginary lines on your legs, and you both enjoy a comfortable silence before moving on with your busy schedules.

- Cooking together:

• If you're into cooking, he loves being your partner in the kitchen. You’re both very collaborative, sharing tasks and always giving each other a hand when needed.

• He shares his recipes and cooking tricks with you. For example, Jay’s famous curry. Only you know the secret to making it so delicious— and here’s a hint: it’s not love, as he tells everyone, but rather allspice.

• If you're not into cooking, don’t worry— he’ll cook for you. His specialty? All your favorite dishes.

• Since you don’t help in the kitchen, your job is to follow him around the kitchen and beg for a bite.

• “No, babe, you have to save room for dinner,” but after you look at him with bright, pitiful eyes, he finally gives in and feeds you with just a tiny bite— so you don’t ruin your appetite.

- Romantic trips together:

• Jay loves planning trips. He would rather plan everything himself than follow someone else’s plans.

• Anytime he can, he takes you on a romantic trip. It doesn’t have to be a fancy, paradisiacal place. A small cabin in a little town in Korea or a quick flight to Japan is already a perfect escape for the two of you.

• The most important thing is having a few days away from everything else to relax the mind and the body— just the two of you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

It's been a long time since I post anything ab Enhypen. That's because I met TXT, and lemme tell you– they are very addictive (in a good way) haha. So I hope I'm still good at writing for the enha members. Posting this one specially to @farewelldevil who picked Jay for starting this small series (idk what else to call it). More members coming soon...

Masterlist

Ni-ki version

Heeseung version

Sunghoon version

Sunoo version

Jungwon version

Jake version

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magicaldestinyharmony · 6 months ago

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In Life and in Death Pt. 1

Summary: over the course of their repeated lives, Lucas Puhlavan becomes obsessed with Count Balcom’s fifth daughter. You.

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 1

CW: mentions of murder, blood and corpses

A/N: check the end for a full one

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Death.

Death is when your lungs stop inflating with oxygen, when your heart gradually comes to a stop and when your vision slowly fades to black.

Some people find death scary and a creepy affair. Others welcome death and embrace it, leaving the world with a smile on their face. Some fall in between or have no opinion at all. However, two people have different opinions.

If you ask the fifth daughter of Count Balcom, she'll tell you that it's an annoying event and that she wished it would end. If you ask Lucca Puhlavan, a commoner referred to as the Divine Warrior, he'll tell you that he hates it because it takes his loved ones away.

These two souls have similar perceptions of death. This is a story about a woman who is tired of dying and just wants to live and about a man who has sworn to get revenge on the people who robbed him of a peaceful life with his family.

Let the story begin.

You harshly grip the window sill, turning the tips of your fingers white. You shudder at the scene below you. Corpses line the front lawn and blood flows everywhere. You hear screams, yells and pleas for mercy from the occupants of the once-glamorous mansion outside your room. You shake your head at the sight and turn around.

Determined, you make your way to the drawers against the wall of your moonlit room. You unlock one and grab the blue stone glimmering in the faint light. It's called the Returner's Stone. You hold it up to admire it. It's a pretty gem. Round in shape and sparkles with a beautiful blue light. Once consumed, it allows the consumer to travel back in time. However, it can only be used once.

Thud, thud.

You freeze at the sound of footsteps sounding in front of your room. He’s here.

You don't turn around. Even when the chilling creek of the door being opened echoes through the room, even when you hear the tip of a sword drag across the wooden floor and even when the shadow of a man falls on you. “Are you the fifth daughter of Count Balcom?” he asks.

You know the question is rhetorical yet you still turn around and answer, “No. I think you have the wrong person.”

The man in front of you scoffs and you take the time to look him over. His navy blue clothes are soaked with blood. His sword hangs from his right hand dripping with the crimson liquid. His black cape falls over his shoulders and his silver hair catches the moonlight making it seem to shine. You pore into the depths of his grey eyes. You shiver at his gaze. It's cold yet empty.

You're reminded of the 15-year-old boy your father brought 10 years ago. You were later told that he was killed. Murdered in one of the hunts your father liked to organize. You're not sure how he's alive right now.

You stop before you can sink more into your thoughts. Stop it! This isn't the time for these thoughts! “Spare me!” you suddenly blurt out.

Lucca (you think that's the name that was mentioned in the newspapers) immediately responds, “No.”

You grimace. There was no hesitation in his voice. You grip the Returner's Stone tighter and ask, “If-if I saved you and prevented that ‘incident’ would you spare me?”

The tall figure in front of you lets his head fall back and laughs. “No. The only way I would spare you is if you drain all of the Balcom blood from your body. Only then would you be spared.”

You flinch at his creepy laugh and cold gaze. Suddenly, Lucca raises his sword, obviously meaning to strike you down. Adrenaline kicks in and you shove the sparkling blue Returner's Stone in your mouth and swallow.

You suck in a breath at the sudden pain in your chest. Lucca falters and hesitates. Yet before he could swing his sword and complete his revenge, you fall to the floor in agony, clutching your chest. The last thing you remember is the black boots of your would-be murderer filling your fading vision.

A/N: this is heavily (and I mean heavily) inspired by the manhwa Even if the Villain’s Daughter Regresses. It’s a good read but the ml is kind of annoying. When I was writing this it kinda felt awkward to switch from 3rd person to 2nd person. Should I keep it in 2nd person or switch to 3rd? Also, should I keep it as an ‘x reader’ or make an oc? What do you guys think? Let me know by dropping a comment!

#yandere oc x reader #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc #knight x reader #yandere male #manhwa x reader #sfw regression #time travel #romance #x reader #yandere #yandere!knight

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ravenswritings · 5 months ago

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── pretend

> love & deepspace; rafayel x fem reader > smut (explicit sexual content - nsfw) > 5.2k > a slight re-envisioning and expansion of the kindled scene from the gem affection card > content: 2nd person pov, petnames (your highness, princess, good girl), mostly pwp, switch rafayel and switch reader, cowgirl, missionary, creampie > [ ao3 ]

The best way to convince the palace maids to leave you two be is to act like you are lovingly wrapped up in each other. But where’s the fun in just pretending?

“Then I shall wait by the door. I’ll always be ready to tend to you, Your Highness.”

What had initially begun as a way to hide the marked-up map and mask your discussions of escape was gradually devolving into pure indulgence. Words of let’s make it convincing turned into what’s the harm if we continue? Rafayel sits atop the soft velvet covers of the bed - map long forgotten even though it was only moments ago that he threw himself on the bed to hide it - with you perched on his lap and your own self-control quickly waning. You hold a grape between your fingers, the fruit coated in a light, watery syrup, pressing it lightly against your lover’s lips.

It’s not as if you two could continue discussing your potential escape with the head maid just outside the door. It was too risky, all too likely that she would overhear something that would compromise your chances of getting back home. In the short time that you’ve been stuck in this world, you’ve deduced that the staff here would much prefer to have you stay, to fill the place of the missing princess and act like nothing is amiss.

You refuse to remain here forever, though.

Still… You two are so very close to settling on a concrete plan. It wouldn’t take much more time or effort to decide on your next steps, make the necessary preparations, and set out into the desert to search for the cave that should hopefully allow the two of you to return home. The temptation of indulging in Rafayel’s affections in this moment is simply too good to pass up. There’d be plenty of time later to finish your discussion.

In the meantime, you’ll continue to play the roles of the salacious princess and her favorite haughty beauty, basking in each other's company, plying each other in soft touches and teasing kisses, until the maid standing just outside the door leaves. It seems like a perfectly fine way to spend the time.

“Since Your Highness wants to spice things up, I’ll do my best to satisfy your every need.”

Of course, Rafayel just has to draw things out; he didn’t immediately part his lips and accept the grape that you had tried feeding to him, and now he’s teasing you back, playing. He grasps your wrist, long fingers curled firmly against your skin. Bringing it to his mouth, his warm tongue swipes up towards your palm as he tastes the syrup that had begun dripping down your inner wrist. Your fingers twitch at the jolt of anticipation that runs through your body, suddenly losing their grip on the slick fruit.

Your eyes immediately lock onto the grape as it bounces down Rafayel’s jewelry-adorned chest, leaving a shining, reddish trail as it soon rolls to a stop right at the edge of his waistband.

“Can’t take it anymore?” Rafayel teases, taunting you for your slip up, lifting his gaze to your face before his eyes flick down to where the grape had settled. There’s a ghost of a devious smirk on his lips, so subtle as he feigns innocence, eyebrows lifting to sell the sweet puppy-dog look while he tilts his head. “It’s so far away. I can’t get it. Your Highness, could you…”

You laugh quietly at Rafayel's apparent helplessness, rather enjoying the situation the two of you have found yourselves in and his insistence on playing coy. “I suppose I can get it for you…” you murmur, unable to help the smirk that twitches at the corner of your own lips. He wasn’t the only one who could draw things out, tease, drive the other wild.

You lean forward, pressing into Rafayel’s space, grasping his chin firmly as you tilt his face to the side to allow for easier access to his neck. Your hand cups his jaw briefly before trailing lower leisurely, the pads of your fingers brushing against his throat. If you pressed harder, you knew you’d be able to feel his pulse - but your touch was agonizingly soft and sweet against his skin. He swallows; breathing shallow.

“Did it fall over here?”

The words lilt in the same feigned innocence Rafayel used earlier. Pretending to be oh so clueless about where the grape had gone and thoroughly investigating its potential whereabouts, you allow your nails to graze his collarbone, brushing lightly against the gold adornments he wore.

“I think you need to go… a little lower,” he rasps, clearly trying to appear more unaffected than he truly is at this moment. A soft huff of laughter leaves your lips, but you happily play along with his false ignorance. Your hand runs down his chest almost lazily, the metal and gems of his body jewelry softly clinking as your fingers brush across them, the muscles of his abdomen jumping at the feather-light touch as your search continues lower and lower. Soon enough, your touches halt once they make contact with the fabric of his pants.

“Here?” you ask, head tilted and eyebrows raised, fingers hovering just over the runaway fruit. When you glance back up to your lover’s face, you see that a red flush had already settled across his cheekbones. His smoldering gaze is heavy on you, the gradient of red of his eyes prominent and rich in the subdued, warm candlelight of your bedchambers. You can’t help but notice how well his eyes and blush compliment each other.

Before he can say anything else, you pluck the grape up between your fingers, then pop it into your own mouth. If he wouldn’t eat it, fine; it’s yours, then. Swiping your tongue across your digits to clean the residue off, you make eye contact with him. The mild surprise in his eyes makes you feel giddy, and you want to keep pushing your luck.

So - given he had propped himself up on his elbows to play around and tease you - you firmly press him back down against the bed, in a rather similar manner that echoes the beginning of this little session between you two. But this time your push is much more slow, deliberate. His hands instinctively move to your hips, holding you steady as your positions shift against each other. You can’t help but smile at the way his eyes narrow; he’s trying to figure out your intentions, your next move. With him splayed out beneath you, that dark trail the syrup-coated grape left behind practically begs for your attention. You know what you’ll do.

Despite the intensity in your eager gaze, Rafayel is quick to regain his composure. “You're quite the tease, aren’t you?” His voice is husky, barely above a whisper. He looks amused as he watches you, sitting so pretty and coy on his lap. “I think you enjoyed that more than you let on.”

“Maybe,” you respond vaguely with a cheeky smile. And then you’re scooting back slightly, putting a necessary distance between you two so you can enact your next course of action. Leaning down, your lips press against the bare skin of his collarbone, right at the very beginning of the sticky, sweet line of syrup. You hear his breath hitch in anticipation, his chest stilling beneath your lips.

With your hands placed on his biceps as you brace your body against his, you move your face a bit lower, flatten your tongue against his pec, and drag it upwards towards his shoulder, licking the skin clean. Rafayel’s digits noticeably twitch against your hips and you hear him exhale a long, shaky breath just above your head. Pulling your mouth away from his skin, the tip of your tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and you glance up at him briefly while you shift further down his body. But before you can get too far ahead of yourself, one of his hands moves to grasp your chin firmly, stopping you from reaching your next destination.

A swift tug pulls you up, and a moment later your lips lock with Rafayel’s in a firm kiss. Despite the initial surprise you felt, only a heartbeat passes before you’re melting against him, a little sigh leaving your nose as your arms loosely loop around his shoulders. You break the kiss to breathe, to press yourself ever closer to your lover. Rafayel's eyes, hooded as he gazes up at you, flutter shut as you lean in once more, meeting in another searing kiss. His hands depart from your hips and slide upwards to cup your face, leaving tingling trails that cause you to shudder. He lets out a soft moan against your mouth as your own hands roam down his chest in return, fingers tugging at the gold jewelry adorning his torso.

“Mmm, I love it when you take charge,” Rafayel purrs, words mixed into a sigh as he breaks the kiss. His fingers tangle in your hair and tug you back gently, preventing you from pitching forward and stealing another kiss. Who’s really in charge here? Regardless, arousal washes down your spine at his easy confession, at the light but persistent grip he has on your hair. Your eyes are half-lidded as you stare down at him, head tilted back just slightly due to Rafayel’s hold.

His eyes flick to the closed door of your bedchambers at that moment, and your gaze follows his. That’s right, you think to yourself, pulled slightly from the fog of your arousal as if just remembering where you two are and what transpired before you two started getting lost in each other. Is the maid still out there?

Well, it didn’t matter either way, in the end.

A charmingly wicked grin spreads across Rafayel’s face as your eyes meet his again. “Someone might still be out there. But don't hold back, my love. Let them hear every moan, every gasp,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning against your skin. His hands move to your hips again, gripping the flesh tightly as he ruts his hips up against yours, the friction causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His thumbs massage little circles into your hip bones and you squirm at the slightly ticklish sensation. “I want you to ride me, Your Highness. Show me how much you enjoy your favorite concubine.”

His pupils are blown wide with adoration and desire, red flush still so pretty across the apples of his cheeks. The dim candle light casts shadows across his features, but you swear it only accents his already devastating beauty. A smitten sigh escapes your lips. “Well, I can’t say no when you look at me like that,” you coo, lifting a hand to trail your fingertips across his face, brushing strands of his dusky purple waves away from his eyes and lingering along his jaw. You certainly couldn’t deny his demands when they sounded so sweet coming from him, no matter how haughty they come across. And why would the princess deny her favorite’s wishes, anyway, when they are so easy to grant?

“Besides…” you add, voice coming out in a whisper while you tilt his chin up with a single finger, your eyes locked on his. The heady emotion in your eyes reflects your next words: “I want it just as much as you.”

Lifting your hips slightly, you begin to untie the navy blue sash around your waist. A more desperate part of you wants to just bunch your skirt up to your thighs and get on with it to save time, but you know it’s just going to interfere, getting in the way of you enjoying your dear, sweet, beloved Rafayel. While you love to tease him and draw things out, this side of you is warring with the one that wants to dive in and lose yourself in him. His hands grasp and lightly tug at your skirt, pulling the now-loose fabric a few inches down the flare of your hips.

As much as you loathe to separate from him, you shift off his lap, moving to the side and stepping off the bed. Working the skirt the rest of the way off your hips, you let the light, flowing layers drop to the floor along with your panties. After stepping out of the little pile around your ankles, you settle back down on the bed beside him, drawing your legs loosely up beneath you. Your palm brushes across his waistband, a short distance above the tent that had been steadily growing between his legs, your nails lightly teasing the skin right along the edge of his pants. Rafayel’s eyes flutter closed as he exhales shakily.

“You’re pretty like this,” you hum, allowing your eyes to roam his figure from head to toe before returning to his face. He opens his eyes with a soft chuckle and the heat in his gaze sends a buzzing anticipation across your nerves.

“Pretty, huh?” The words are smug, as if he already knows just what you thought of him. He knows he’s pretty, of course. But you nod, readily feeding his ego. Your fingers deftly tuck themselves into his waistband, tugging the sash loose. The sheer coral fabric that draped across his chest, as well as the teal and crimson panels of fabric that hung around his hips, fall slack. Rafayel flicks the coral fabric over his shoulder while you remove the excess fabric from his lower half.

Once he kicks his pants off, nude aside from the gold adornments across his chest and the shimmering teal cloth tied to both biceps that loops behind his back, you waste no time alighting yourself on his lap once more. Rafayel places his hands at your waist, though they only remain there briefly before sliding upwards, drumming along your ribcage. His thumbs brush against the fabric of your top; the body jewelry you wear, identical to your lover’s, softly jingles with the motion. Your hands press against his shoulders to steady yourself, pussy hovering above his hard cock. Lowering your body, the pretty flushed tip catches at your slick entrance briefly before it slips, brushing right past your clit.

You bite down on your lip to stifle the whine that threatens to leave your throat. Rafayel’s breath stutters; a short, shuddering gasp at the sensation of his tip dragging across your folds. Your walls clench at the spark of pleasure stemming from that sensitive bud, and you can’t help yourself; you rock against him again, folds practically gliding against his shaft, leaving your arousal along his length. A groan leaves your partner’s lips, equal parts frustrated and eager.

“Make me yours, princess.”

His demand is strained, desperate; as if he’s barely holding himself back from grabbing your hips and rutting into you. He wants you to indulge, wants you to claim him - and you’re going to grant that wish of his. It’s your wish, too, after all, even though you know very well that he’s already yours… and that he’s been yours for a while now.

Your response to him comes in the form of your hand grasping his length, holding him steady as you tuck the leaking tip against your entrance again. You ease yourself down onto him slowly, taking him into your slick heat inch by inch. The leisurely descent is almost agonizing, but you pride yourself on your self control as you try to draw the act out; you’ve always relished the initial stretch of your walls whenever he first enters you, his girth providing the perfect amount of stretch. Rafayel’s jaw clenches while you take your time, trying to keep his breathing and hips steady as you work your way down. A pleased little sigh escapes you once you’re fully seated on his lap, his member nestled all snug inside you, filling you so deliciously.

With both of your hands braced against his shoulders once more, you lift your hips until just his tip remains inside. A short pause, a deep breath. Then, your tight heat engulfs his length again, quicker this time. You grind against him, back arching as you rock your hips, though you continue to take your sweet time. The languid drag of his cock as you ride him drives you crazy, but it allows the pleasure to swell gradually; the warmth of arousal slowly spreads from your core to the rest of your body.

“Your Highness…” Rafayel gasps out between breathy little moans that you manage to pull from him. Every few thrusts, his hips buck upwards as he ruts into you - a whine escapes your throat each time it happens, and you find yourself shuddering as your head starts to hang between your shoulders. Your hands curl into fists against his chest, leaving pale pink lines as your nails scrape against the skin. “Aren’t you being too much of a tease, now?”

When Rafayel’s grip around your waist tightens and he starts to control the rhythm of your bodies, clearly tired of your mischief, you put more of your weight into your descent and firmly plant yourself on his lap. His brows twitch and his lips curl into a pouty scowl when he’s unable to continue to thrust up into you, the pace coming to a grinding halt. Your knees tightly press around his hips, further restricting you both, though you can’t help but rock your hips in small, torturously languid circles while you try to catch your breath. A strangled groan leaves Rafayel’s lips as he throws his head back, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your abdomen, one of his thighs jumping in response to the constrained, regulated pleasure.

A breathless laugh escapes you in a huff and you can’t help but smirk at his crumbling composure.

All movement on his part halting, Rafayel’s eyes narrow, shades of ruby red briefly gleaming in stark contrast against the dark azure surrounding it. His expression is dangerous, and suddenly you realize your mistake. A shudder wracks your body, though you’re not sure if it’s due to uneasiness or anticipation.

He’s going to swallow you whole.

And you’ll let him. You’ll welcome it, even.

There’s a moment of stillness, of bated breaths - then, your vision spins as Rafayel flips your positions. Fingers clutching his shoulders, you cling to him as your world shifts. Your back is pressed into the mattress now, and he’s hovering above you. With the way his bangs frame his face, the flickering candle light is blocked from fully reaching his eyes; the shadows make his gaze even more intoxicating. Given how tightly both your hips had been pressed together before your hubris, his cock easily remains firmly lodged inside you despite the shifting of bodies and power. You suppress the low moan that bubbles up in your chest, arousal spiking as he pins you beneath him, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. Fuck, you feel so full like this.

He leans down and nuzzles his nose against your cheek; it feels almost cool against your warm skin. One of his palms rests on your hip, while the other is planted against the bed. A shiver runs down your spine as his breath fans over your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your heart pounding with anticipation. Quietly, he chuckles; you almost feel it more than you hear it. When he pulls his face away slightly, you open your eyes and they flit up to meet his gaze. With a smug smirk, not unlike the one you gave him moments ago, he speaks. “Forgive me, but I’m getting impatient tonight. I need you, princess.”

“Rafayel–?”

As if to prove his words, he pulls out just slightly before rutting back into you again sharply. You’re left breathless as your back arches upwards, and your thighs twitch against his hips. Rafayel pushes himself into a more upright position, moving both palms to your waist, using your hips as an anchor and holding you tight as he starts to steadily roll his hips against yours. A keening whine leaves your throat as your head lolls to the side, overwhelmed with pleasure even as your walls greedily suck him in.

“You’re - hah - so gorgeous like this… Gonna make you feel so good…” Rafayel groans, heavily affected by the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him, your arousal drenching his length and making a mess where your bodies meet. Though subtle, you can feel your own pulse in your walls that are stretched tightly around his girth whenever he presses his cock in as deep as it can go.

Your body begins to adjust - somewhat - to his unrelenting thrusts, becoming used to the waves of pleasure that flush through your core. You focus your gaze on him; his cheeks are flushed with desire and exertion, a sheen of sweat glistening at his temples and along his delicate neck, lips parted as a result of his panting breaths and husky groans that accentuate the cadence of his hips. Eyes fixated on his mouth, his pretty lips that you want on yours so badly, your fingers twitch against his shoulders before they move.

Hooking your fingers through the gold metal dangling inches away from his sternum, you yank him down; he yelps and frantically catches himself with his palms against the mattress, pulled off balance by the sharp movement. His rhythm falters, hips stilling at the sudden change in position. You then loop your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close and not allowing him to escape. Most of his weight rests on you, though his forearms dig into the bed on either side of your ribcage, propping him up just enough so that he isn’t crushing you. Capturing his lips with yours, you muffle the gratified groan that crawls up your throat.

The kiss is messy, sloppy as your open mouths press against each other. Teeth graze plush lips, slightly too abrasive, though neither of you can bring yourselves to care. Tongues meet, brush past one another, depart. Rafayel coaxes a moan from you as the tip of his tongue curls up against the roof of your mouth, and you retaliate by sucking his bottom lip in, biting down; a breathy whimper escapes him. He breaks the kiss momentarily to inhale deeply, rocking his hips against yours as his lust-hazed mind remembers that his length is buried deep in you, hard and throbbing.

With the current angle of his hips, each time he moves against you, friction greets your clit. Your legs, hooked around his waist to keep him close, help corral his body in towards yours each time he rolls against you. “Nn, Rafayel…”

“Hm?” His answering hum rumbles against the crook of your neck, where his lips are leaving soft kisses along with light, pinching nips from his teeth. A swipe of his tongue and a loving peck soothes the skin, and his hand - one now roaming your body, nails dragging lightly across the side of your plump breast and down the curve of your ribs - provides a sweet, tantalizing distraction. Your eyes flutter shut and you tighten your hold on him, fingers clutching at the string of body jewelry that rests against his spine.

Each time he drives his length into your sopping wet pussy, a short little moan bubbles out of your mouth. You’re too far gone at this point; any thoughts of banter and teasing nonexistent in your mind. All that matters right now is Rafayel, how he’s making you feel, and how he’s indulging in you as he chases his own pleasure. “Please, Raf… I need…” your begging drops off into a whine. The muscles in your lower abdomen are tense, a manifestation of your desperation because you need to cum soon, or you’re going to lose your mind.

“You’re taking my cock so well,” Rafayel praises, statement husky and ending in a low moan. “Nngh–! Such a good girl, such a perfect little princess for me.” He’s just as close to falling apart as you are, his breathing heavy as he pants against your skin. His fingers press into your skin in a halfhearted attempt to ground himself.

Your eyes roll back into your head when he calls you a good girl, his perfect little princess - his voice sends a white-hot flash of arousal straight to your core, and your pussy practically drools around him in response, body shuddering as your orgasm edges ever closer. When Rafayel’s fingers start moving in tight, quick circles on your clit, you bite down sharply on your bottom lip, subduing the high-pitched cry torn from your throat.

“Raf - ah - Rafayel…” you babble, and your fingers clutch at his back, tugging at the jewelry as if it’s your lifeline. His tip brushes against that spongy spot repeatedly with each pass of his hips, and you vaguely notice the barely perceptible tremble of your limbs in the midst of your lust. “I’m–I’m close–”

And with a well-timed, sharp thrust while his fingers press down on your clit, you come undone. Your back arches and you cry out, walls clamping down tightly around his cock before fluttering, subsequently coaxing his orgasm from him. Your breath hitches when you feel the subtle, telltale warmth pooling deep in your canal, right up against your cervix. The sensation is accompanied by a sultry mix between a groan and a whine coming from Rafayel, forehead pressing against your collarbone.

With a shuddering exhale, he relaxes against you, weight bearing down on you, suffocating you just a little. Your fingers untangle themselves from the body jewelry and ghost over his shoulders, his skin sweaty and sticky beneath your touch. After a few moments where you try to catch your breath, you lightly smack his bicep. “You’re crushing me.”

Rafayel grumbles a bit, complaints unintelligible, but pushes himself up onto his forearms, peeling his body off of yours. He shifts back, pulling his softening cock out of your pussy - your walls clenching almost instinctively as if trying to keep him in - then flops over onto the bed beside you. Now with his weight off you, your lungs can get the air they need. Inhaling deeply, your eyelids slide shut as you allow your body to go limp against the gold-embroidered velvet donning the bed. It’s soft, easily holding onto the warmth from your activities.

Moments later, Rafayel’s hands grasp at you and pull you against him. Your face scrunches at the tacky feeling of your sweaty-and-cooling skin against his, but the mild distaste is easily overshadowed by the warmth of your heart as you indulge in a bit of skinship after your little romp. Lying on your side, you press yourself against his front and sling an arm over his waist lazily, letting out a tired but pleased little sigh. A few heartbeats later, you crack your eyes open and look up at him, head resting on his arm - your own personal pillow (until your beloved complains that his arm is going tingly and numb, and then you’re going to have to deal with him rolling away in the other direction, and you’ll delegate yourself as the big spoon).

Rafayel’s eyes meet yours and his eyes light up with the grin that spreads his lips. He nods his head to the side, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “Think she’s still out there?”

Snapped out of your blissful little reverie, you huff, a pout on your lips as you reach up and pinch his cheek softly. The way his skin squishes between your thumb and forefinger is reminiscent of a marshmallow. “I don’t know,” you answer with a sigh and you press your face against his chest again, hiding away from reality. “I guess I don’t really care. It’s not like they don’t already expect this from us.”

“True.” The agreement is punctuated with a quiet laugh from Rafayel, softened as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. “Though I think it’s funny that you took on the role of the promiscuous princess so easily.”

He yelps as you retaliate with a sharp bite to his shoulder.

The candles in your bedchambers continue to burn late into the night.

You’re unsure when exactly the maid beyond the door left - all you knew is that she was gone from her post by the time you and Rafayel had bothered to extract yourselves from each other to go check.

You’re leaning against Rafayel’s side as you two sit up side by side in the bed, cheek pressed into his shoulder. Even though the incense has long been extinguished, the faint smoky fragrance continues to linger in the room, contributing to the ongoing intimacy of these moments.

Plucking a grape from the bowl in your lap, you hold it up to your beauty’s lips. He obediently opens his mouth and you pop the fruit in, fingertips brushing against his lips. His eyes flick from your face to the map that he’s holding up before the two of you. Chewing absentmindedly, his gaze traces over the notes the two of you had scribbled into the parchment earlier.

Popping a grape into your own mouth, you also look over the map. You two have marked the caves that are most likely to hold the mural that should allow your return back to your original world. With a decisive hum, Rafayel folds the map up, setting it off to the side. He then turns his body towards you, and you make a disgruntled noise in the back of your throat as your support - in the form of his shoulder - moves away from you.

His hands grasp the bowl, taking it off your lap as he cradles it in his arms; then he slots himself in your arms, resting his weight comfortably against you. You slump against the propped up pillows and cushions that support your back, allowing him to use you as his own pillow. He noses your collarbone, brushing freely along the skin, your jewelry having been removed some time ago. Rafayel picks up a grape and holds it up to your lips to feed you and pamper you, just as you had done for him. You take the grape into your mouth while giving a teasing nip to the tip of his finger at the same time. He smiles up at you, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“You know, all things considered, I’d say our time here hasn’t been terrible,” Rafayel starts, grabbing another grape to feed you. Once you take it, he licks the watery syrup that lingers on the pad of his thumb.

You shrug and nod your head. “Yeah,” you agree, though your tone is more ambivalent. “I won’t lie, it’s been kind of fun. A vacation in and of itself, almost. But…” You run your fingers through his dusky purple hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Rafayel practically melts against you. “I’m looking forward to being back home.”

“Mm, me too.” Rafayel’s long arms deposit the bowl of grapes - now nearly empty - onto the side table before settling back down into your embrace. His fingers trace languid, abstract images into the bare skin of your torso, his blue-pink eyes drowsy and half-lidded. A yawn escapes his lips and he nuzzles his face against your chest. “Does tomorrow night sound good to you?”

“Yeah, we’ll leave tomorrow.”

In the meantime, you’ll happily luxuriate in these moments with Rafayel as the princess and her sweetheart, certain that you two will find your way back home.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #rafayel #lads rafayel #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #ravenswritings #baby's first l&ds fanfic!!#constructive criticism is welcome!

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