#sofa cleaning machine

[mysteamgreencarpetcleaning]

Uncover the Hidden Benefits of Eco-Friendly Sofa Cleaning Methods by My Steam Green

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My Steam Green Carpet Cleaning

United States

800-935-6705

[songofwizardry]

just moved into a new place that has a washing machine that *has a dryer* and in addition to the convenience of washing sheets, I am now convinced that all I need is to put all my bones into the washer-dryer for a good spin. and then they will be warm and sorted.

[housekeepinginfo]

The Best Couch Cleaners - According To Our Testing

Spills and stains happen, but you can clean them up with an upholstery cleaner. These cleaners work on many things, like furniture and car interiors. We tested 23 cleaners to find the best ones for you.

We looked at how well they work, how easy they are to carry, and how quiet they are. We also checked their value and how easy they are to use.

[uncookedfeeler]

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

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

Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

"Sure, I'm following you"

.

.

.

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

"Knock, knock" 

"You can come in"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yun..." 

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

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

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

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

"No bra, you little rascal?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

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

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

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

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

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

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

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

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

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

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

"Yuna, I'm coming"

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

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

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

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

[dublinsofacleaning]

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[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In

Summary: Billy Maximoff sustains an injury and Wanda comes to you, her neighbour who happens to be an ER doctor.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

For @esposadejoyhuerta - hope this week is better to us <3

Tired.

That’s all you are. You don’t even know how you manage to get home, dragging your feet through the door and dropping your bag next to the couch.

Sleep or eat?

You look between the kitchen and sofa, and the view of the cushions and the blanket you left there is far more attractive than the prospect of food.

Sleep it is.

Dropping face first on the couch, you sigh, excited at the idea of sleeping for the next few hours, until your next shift at the hospital.

You close your eyes, and don’t know how long you’ve been asleep until a desperate knock wakes you.

“Who is it?” you say, scared by the sudden noise.

“It’s Wanda”

You relax instanty, sighing with relief. Though you don’t speak regularly to your neighbours, Wanda is by far the nicest.

“Is everything ok?” as soon as you open the door, you can see her disheveled state and the fear in her eyes. “Wanda, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Billy had a little accident in the stairs and he’s in pain, I didn’t know what to do and remembered you’re a doctor”

“Come on” you let her lead the way, opening the door. As soon as you enter you can hear Billy’s cries and Tommy by his side. The boy is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, holding his right arm.

“Hey, Billy. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It hurts” is all he manages to say.

“May I examine you? You can tell me if it hurts a lot or only a little, yes?”

The boy nods, trying to calm down as you inspect his arm. At a certain movement, he flinches, and you sigh, turning to Wanda.

“He needs an X-Ray”

“Ok, I’ll take him now”

“Why don’t I drive you?” you say, thinking it might be dangerous for Wanda to get behind the wheel when she’s in so much distress. The woman nods, and you help Billy up, making sure he doesn’t move his arm.

Wanda sits with both boys in the back of your car, her hands going through Billy’s hair to calm him down.

“Sorry about the mess” you say, looking at all the junk you had in your car.

“It’s alright” she says, looking a bit more relaxed. “I’m sorry for making you drive us, you must be exhausted”

“I don’t mind at all”

You look through the rearview mirror, Wanda smiling softly and you return the gesture, feeling a bit flustered.

“I thought I told you to go home” Chief Fury says as soon as you walk through the ER.

“Uh… my neighbour’s kid got into an accident so”

“Alright, then” his threatening glare softens as soon as his eyes land on the woman walking behind you and her two kids, Billy in a wheelchair.

“He needs an X-Ray, I didn’t see signs of a concussion or any other injuries”

“Admit him, get vitals and go to imaging. Ma’am, you can wait here while Dr. Y/L/N checks on your son”

“Can’t I go with him?”

“I’m afraid not”

“It’s alright, I won’t leave him alone” you squeeze her hand, pushing Billy to the X-ray room.

Luckily it’s empty when you walk in, the technician setting everything up quickly.

“I thought your shift ended” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders.

“Shit happens”

Billy laughs and your eyes widen, forgetting you were around a child.

“Uh, maybe don’t tell your mom I said that, kid?”

“Hey, don’t do it for free. Get something in return for your silence” Darcy intervenes and you want to smack her. But Billy keeps on laughing as you argue with your friend, and it’s nice to see him smiling after being in so much pain.

Darcy whistles as soon as you look at the image of Billy’s fracture.

“Clean split”

“Yeah, he got lucky”

You figure it’s better to ask for an Ortho resident to help with the cast. Darcy keeps Billy company while you go talk to Wanda.

“Hey” you sit next to her, offering a cup of coffee you brought from the machine.

“How is he?” Wanda asks, looking at Tommy, who is sound asleep in the chair next to hers. You motion for her to stand up to talk without waking him up.

“Billy broke his arm but won’t need surgery. Just a cast for a few weeks and then we can remove it”

“I’m such an idiot” she curses and you’re taken aback by her outburst. As a trauma surgeon, you had seen your fair share of ugly situations, so a cast was one of the best outcomes all things considered.

“I shouldn’t have let them play, but it was late and I figured they just needed to run a bit more before they got tired” she goes on, hand running through her hair. You can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop” you place your hands in her arms, waiting until she looks at you. “Blaming yourself is not helping at all. Listen, kids get hurt playing, it’s practically a rite of passage. And I know it sucks and it’s scary but Billy is fine and I’m always around for anything, ok?”

“Ok” she nods and without thinking, you pull her closer, hugging her. Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, her scent pleasant and calming. You rub circles down her back and she relaxes.

“Thank you” she says, her hands still on your waist. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks, even in her disheveled state and your eyes travel to her lips.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” a resident approaches you, clearly hesitant to interrupt.

“Yeah” it takes you a second too long to look away, making Wanda blush.

“Billy is all set up” she informs you. “If Miss Maximoff filled out all the forms he’s good to go”

“Yeah, I did” the woman nods next to you, picking up her things and waking Tommy up. The resident leads you to a room where Billy is waiting for his mother. Tommy runs up to him and admires his cast, looking at the material in his brother’s arm.

“Here” you say, adjusting an armsling for him to rest. Signing his discharge and picking up some pain meds, you lead the Maximoffs out of the hospital.

By the time you park in your driveway it’s 2 AM and you have to be at the hospital in less than 12 hours.

“Come on sweetheart” Wanda tries to wake Billy, but you stand next to her and offer to carry him all the way to his room.

You’ve known Wanda for almost two years now but had never gone inside her house. As you carry the boy upstairs, you notice all the family pictures and drawings that the twins made.

“Sleep tight, little man” you say, moving aside so Wanda can remove his shoes and tuck him in. “Let me know if you need anything, ok? I’ll be home until noon”

“Oh, actually, can you wait a second for me? I’m sorry, it won’t be long”

“Sure” you nod, going down to the living room.

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or Wanda has an incredibly comfortable couch, but as soon as you sit there, you relax and drift off.

By the time Wanda tucks in both boys and comes downstairs, you’re fast asleep. The woman smiles, your features soft as you catch up on much needed sleep. Wanda pulls out a blanket and drapes it over your body, hoping you’ll finally be able to get some rest.

—

It smells amazing.

The scent of fried bacon and butter makes you open your eyes, your stomach suddenly very aware that you forgot to have dinner last night.

Looking around, you realise this isn’t your house, but it still takes a minute to remember everything. Wanda, the twins, the hospital.

“Morning” the woman says when she sees you looking confused; the way you rub the sleep off your eyes makes her heart flutter.

“Wanda, hey. Sorry, I crashed in your living room. I’ll get out of your way now”

“I’m making breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday”

“Well…” you rub your neck, stretching. You fold the blanket and walk to her, your mouth watering at the smell of everything.

“Orange juice?” she offers.

“Yeah, thanks” you take the glass. “Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough, Y/N. Come on, sit. Enjoy”

You smile sheepishly, grabbing pancakes, bacon and some jam. The first bite is so good, you let out a loud moan.

“Sorry” you blush, Wanda biting her lip curiously at the sound you just made. “These are like the best pancakes I’ve ever had”

“Thank you” she sits across from you, drinking coffee and resting her chin on her hand. “Do you have to be back to work soon?”

“Yeah, in a couple of hours. I’ve got surgery and gotta make the rounds on some patients from yesterday”

“You work too much” she admonishes in her mom voice and you laugh.

“I’ve heard that one before”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any family here and all of my friends are at the hospital, so it’s better than being home alone doing nothing”

“Not all of your friends are at the hospital” she says with a shy smile and you nod, appreciating her words.

“What about you? Anything interesting going on?”

“Aside from Billy and Tommy being pure chaos? No, that’s enough for a lifetime” she laughs, and it’s honestly the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“They’re really sweet kids. It must be hard work but you’re doing amazing with both of them, Wanda”

“Thank you” she looks down at her cup of coffee and you nod, eating the rest of your food in silence.

Wanda is about to say something else when your pager goes off.

“Oh, great” you mutter. “My surgery’s gonna be earlier. Gotta hurry up”

“Chew your food!” Wanda scolds when you began to put everything in your mouth.

“Sorry” you say, trying to slow down. Wanda rolls her eyes. “Can I at least do the dishes?”

“Fine” she concedes, and shows you where everything is. “You better eat before your surgery. Or I’ll pack you lunch”

“I promise I’ll eat” you say, rolling your eyes. Once the dishes are done you pick up your stuff and walk out the door, Wanda close behind. “Let me know if you need anything? Billy might have some discomfort but the meds should be enough. But either way, call me”

“I don’t actually have your phone number” she says, making you frown.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here” You take out a piece of paper from your pocket and scribble on it. “Anything at all, call me. Even if I’m in surgery, I’ll make sure one of the nurses answers for me”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Those pancakes were heavenly. Thank you”

It’s hard for you to say goodbye to Wanda, but you hear the twins calling and decide it’s time to go back home.

The woman gives you a nod and you reach out, squeezing her hand. You feel warm as you go back to your place.

To be honest, you’re hoping Wanda calls you, for more than just a consult.

Part 2

[natalievoncatte]

The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.

She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.

“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”

Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.

She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.

If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.

Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”

Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.

Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.

Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.

“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”

Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“

“There is no time. You must come with me now.”

“Wait, hold on a second-“

The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.

Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.

She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.

Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.

It proved fruitless. They tried everything.

Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep here.”

She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.

It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.

And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.

Just like now.

A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.

Nothing worked.

Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.

Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.

The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Kara?”

Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”

Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”

“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.

At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.

“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”

“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”

Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.

“How long has it been?”

“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”

“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”

Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”

Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.

“Kara?” said Alex.

“Time dilation,” said Brainy.

“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”

“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”

“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”

Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”

Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”

Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.

“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”

Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” said Lena.

[monzamash]

blog rules // tags // home // monzamusings

//

18+ only ^ with peace and love.

currently writing; monzamusings✨ end of (f1) season sale 🏁 

(sorted by driver & most recent)

lando norris one shots

how the other half lives ^ hot tub time machine ^ wouldn't dream of it ^ easy to please ^ quiet ^ my side of the sofa valentine ^ smile you're on camera ^ lost in japan ^

series

off the record ^ — save it for the bedroom ^ (scene from off the record) the good, the bad and what could've been a three-part series (completed) ^

blurbs

still tasting you ^ coming clean my roman empire ^ you look pretty freckles pit in my stomach needed me do i look like i'm joking? ^

smaus

"i miss you" king of the gremlins ^ "you're flirting with me"

daniel ricciardo one shots

cardinal sin ^ tears and scraped knees it's impossible to win one of my kind ^ down under ^ say yes to life ^ the best man ^ strawberries and cream ^ there when you call ^ unless you like that ^ lights up red desert

blurbs

on our side birthday boy ^ "i thought you’d at least ask me to be your valentine…” "you sent me naked pictures!"

charles leclerc one shots/blurbs*

bali * loosen up ^ itch ^ — parlez-vous français? (sequel to itch) ruin the friendship ^ when we first met

carlos sainz one shots

to be loved not in the mood ^ "i'm not jealous, you're just mine" ^

blurbs

sober ^

kevin magnussen one shots

the one ^ keep you warm

lewis hamilton one shots

ville d'amour ^

pierre gasly one shots

drive me crazy ^

#monzamashmasterlist for all writing

©monzamash please note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and can not be copied or reposted on tumblr or any other platforms.

[asharasasylum]

♡ drabble Choso Kamo booklet - entry 1

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ warnings: panty stealer. not as dark as my usual stuff. dub con. sub choso. smut. 18+

If you like JJK follow my mutuals blog @xo-arcie

You’ve never met a roommate as sweet as Choso. 

So he’s a little bit on the shy side, practically turning crimson and almost looking like he’s burning up everytime you jokingly flirt with him. But there’s nothing wrong with that, and if you’re being honest the idea that your mere presence gets him so flustered turns you on. 

If only he knew that. 

Choso is completely blind to how you feel. He thinks you’re teasing him everytime you make a joke with him in the kitchen or your leg brushes against his sitting on the sofa together. 

He’s so blind that he genuinely thinks he never has a chance with you. And he wants you so damn bad. 

He swears to his friends that there really isn’t any ulterior motive to him helping you around the apartment from time to time. It’s not like he gets a glimpse of your ass underneath your oversized t-shirt when you’re cleaning the living room or that he sneaks a pair of panties— for his own personal use— out of your wash basket every time he offers to do your laundry. 

He’d never. 

But yet your panties seem to have been going missing and you seem to catch his eyes wondering on all those times you’re together. 

You never really catch him in the act. But you definitely have an inkling to the idea that there might be something going on. It’s not until you forget your purse one day, running from the bus stop all the way home. 

You’re slightly surprised to find your wash basket still full and sat by the washing machine. Only now the clothes seem like they’ve been picked through, different articles of clothing spilling out onto the floor. You’re in such a rush, that you let it slip to the back of your mind until you hear a distinct whimper come from the living room. 

Choso is in his own world. His face is buried in a pair of your purple lace panties, nose nuzzling into the bit of wetness that’s been left there as he sniffs. They’re fresh and he’ll be damned if he lets them go to waste, making good use of them as he fists his cock in the living room. 

He’s whimpering and moaning your name between harsh breaths, even sticking out his tongue against the material a few times and the sight of him flushed over a little bit of material has you dripping. 

The purse is long forgotten as you creep into the living room, crawling on the floor until you make your way in between his legs. 

“Y/N,” Choso whines, oblivious to you in front of him. He’s too busy imagining you in his head with his eyes scrunched closed to notice you there. 

It’s you that has to grab his attention calling out his name in a sultry voice. 

“Choso.” 

He’s in complete disbelief as he opens his eyes, blinking a few seconds believing he’s seeing things. 

“I thought you said you were going to do my washing?” You hum, raising your brows at him. 

His face flushes even more, darkening to a cherry red at the realisation you’re really here and you’re catching him out on this. 

Yet you don’t seem to be scolding him and even though it’s so difficult for him to read your expression, he doesn’t feel like you're upset with him. 

Choso still babbles out an apology, stuttering on his words as he tries to tell you how sorry he is. But you don’t care for the apology, replacing his hand with your own and rubbing your lips against the tip of his dick. 

“Want me to help you out here?” You ask, licking at the precum that’s leaking out of here. “I promise I’ll let you lick something better than my panties.”

Let’s just say leaving the house is long forgotten that day, too busy with Choso as he makes up for all the times he left you out of his solo fun, by rutting into you like some sort of crazed animal.

[the-californicationist]

The Window (Ch. 02)

Tw: breeding kink, reverse harem gangbang MDNI

This is a repost sorry I’m trying to fix a broken link situation. Just ignore me.

The waiting was the worst part. You tried not to stare at the pregnancy test strip while it was still loading. A watched pot never boils, or whatever that saying was. You scrolled through your phone, you paced back and forth, and you listened to the murmuring voices on the other side of the door, eagerly awaiting the good news.

But, there wouldn’t be any celebrating. Not this month.

You threw the negative strip in the trash and tried to hold it together. You had been flipping through online baby stores, looking at cribs, watching videos about safety, and reading the towering stack of what-to-expect books that Soap’s mom had bought for you (you still hadn’t forgiven him for telling her, but you sent her a sweet thank-you card). And yet… it felt like it was all for nothing.

You imagined what it must be like for those women who got pregnant if a strong wind blew too hard that day, and you tried to fight the pang of jealousy. Then, you thought about your team. The disappointed look on their faces would be so hard to bear. But, you needed to let them know.

The door handle was cold in your hands as you popped it open and left the bathroom. When you looked up at the group, they were all sat, patiently waiting to hear what you’d come to report. It was quiet at first, and then Kyle raised his hands, an eager expression of joy on his face,

“Well?”

By the sudden, pained look in your eyes, he got his answer. In a flash, you were buried in Simon’s chest, wrapped in his huge arms, hearing him whisper,

“It’s alright, love. Next time.”

You felt Price’s palm on the nape of your neck, and Johnny had grabbed your hand. You fought the tears, overwhelmed by their support.

Simon broke his hug and sat down with you. You told them,

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just can’t seem to —”

“No, lass. I willnae sit here and listen to you blame yourself,” Johnny protested.

“Agreed,” Simon nodded, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Price sighed, and his men looked up at him for guidance. So, he said,

“We’ll just have to double our efforts. We’re not giving up, love. Don’t you worry.”

A warm hand circled around your shoulders from the other side of the sofa, and you saw Kyle’s face light up with mischief,

“I like the sound of that plan.”

And that’s how you ended up in Price’s quarters, surrounded by all of your soldiers, getting pumped full of their thick come.

Gaz was pounding his length into your body like a machine. The wet schlicking noise your pussy was making for him filled the room, mixing with the dark, deep moans from the others as they watched you take his long shaft.

You were laying on the bed, propped up a bit with your head resting on Price’s huge thigh, watching him fist his fat, uncut rod inches from your face, waiting his turn. He was petting your forehead, telling you what a pretty little girl you were and how much he was looking forward to filling you up to your limit.

Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, jerking himself off languidly, lolling his soft tongue across your nipple, sucking it when he wanted to, leaving pink marks on your skin. Meanwhile, Johnny had situated his mouth right over your clit, not really minding Gaz and his pounding, eating you like he was going to starve to death.

You’d lost count of your orgasms, but you thought you were still in the single digits. Simon’s come was already frothing, packed deep inside of you from his earlier spend, coating your walls and Gaz’s shaft as he worked. The wetness made his cock gleam like a shining popsicle, and you wanted to lick him clean.

It was so erotic, you couldn’t help but cry out,

“Mmffuck! Kyle… please. Oh, my fucking God!”

“Good girl,” he smiled, panting, “You ready for more?”

You nodded your head, turning your cheek toward John, looking for his comfort. You laid your hand on the back of Simon’s head and encouraged him to suck a little harder.

John’s warm hand pet your cheek as he looked down at you,

“Here, love. Need something to suck on? C’mon. It’ll make you feel so full, won’t it.”

He pointed his swollen head down toward your lips and let you suckle from the drooling tip, comforting yourself with his flesh, enjoying his musky taste.

You felt Johnny’s mouth begin to suck at your clit’s rigid body, using his smooth tongue to push it back and forth, making Gaz’s every thrust feel like pure electricity. Your body arched into it, and even though your grunting and screaming were muffled by the captain’s cockhead, you came with a swirling, all-encompassing bliss, letting the glittering sensation rush through your veins like a drug.

“Pretty girl,” John held your cheek gently, feeling it swell with his hardness, “You look so beautiful when you come for us.”

“Fuck,” Gaz sighed, “She’s so bloody tight. I can’t… I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

The whole room watched as he unloaded his pleasure into you, seeing his face melt with joy, looking at how his cock had stretched its way into you, pulsing now with each drop of his thick come.

“Tha’s it. Legs up for us, bonnie girl. Cannae have Gaz’s work go to waste, hm?” Soap grinned, helping you bend your hips up into position. Then, the moment Kyle stumbled back from you, Johnny eagerly took his place.

He wasn’t just hard, he was throbbing. His cockhead was rosy and pink, pulsating with his blood flow, ready and hungry for its hole. Johnny smiled down at you, his chin shiny and dripping from his meal, covered in you from cheek to cheek. He used his fingers to gently push Gaz’s stray load back inside of you and followed it with his cock.

Johnny wasn’t nearly as long as Gaz, but he was curved just right, arched and girthy, perfect for your already-sensitive g-spot. His feral thrusting had you crying out as you pulled your mouth away from Price, turning to face him in shock. His hands were busy, too. Johnny spread your legs apart by your knees and held them aloft, trying to keep all of the wet, creamy gifts you’d been given deep inside you.

In almost no time at all, he was ready to burst inside of you. Ever since he’d begun, you’d felt like you were riding the high of one long, never-ending orgasm, and you felt your pussy clenching around him, well-used and pliant.

“Holy fuck, lass. You’re so full of us. Gonna be drippin’ outta you all night, I’ll bet.”

“Are you gonna fill me up, Johnny?” You keened, knowing how much he liked it when you teased him.

“Jesus Christ, Sparrow,” Soap’s eyes furrowed, looking lost and then… he found himself. His orgasm raced through his body, bursting from his shaft in long, hot ropes of come, spending himself into you almost violently.

Barely able to breathe, he removed himself from you as gently as he could, wiping the fluids off of his cock and shoving them back into your well-used hole.

“Si,” Price commanded, “Can you hand me the plug?”

“Aye, Captain. Here,” Simon handed him the clean, girthy vaginal plug that the captain had purchased and passed it to him.

Carefully, Price reached down and wet it at your entrance before stuffing it inside of you, sealing his men’s semen inside.

“Wait,” you breathed, trying to get your brain back online, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

You looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and he grinned,

“I think you’ve got enough in there to last you the week, little bird.”

“But…” You tried not to sound selfish, but you couldn’t figure out how to ask for what you wanted.

Simon knew what you were trying to say, and he said it for you,

“She wants you, too, Cap. Full or not.”

“She’s spent, and she needs water and rest. She doesn’t need any more of —”

“Please?” You asked, watching him get up from the bed and move to get dressed, “Please, John.”

He put his shirt back on the chair and mounted you as if he was going to fuck you, pushing himself onto your body like an animal, pinning you down. His voice was a warning,

“Are you askin’ me ‘cause you think that’s wha’ I wanna hear, Spar?”

You shook your head, whispering, reeling from his display of power,

“No, I just… want you.”

Price sighed, running a wide hand down his face and looked over at his men. It seemed like he was asking for help, or permission. You didn’t fully understand, but Ghost did.

Simon stepped into his gym shorts and motioned for Gaz and Soap to follow him,

“Gonna hop in the shower. Still watchin’ MASH later, yeah?” Ghost put his huge hand on your forehead and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Aye,” Price nodded, watching them file out.

Johnny gave you his usual kisses, one on your lips and one on your forehead,

“Makin’ you popcorn, too, bonnie. Extra butter.”

You kissed him back, smiling at the boys as they left you alone with their leader.

You turned to him, waiting for him to decide, giving him a way out,

“Hey, if you don’t want to —”

“No,” he interrupted you, resting his impossibly fat cock on your folds, the head of him reaching past your belly button, “Tha’s not it, love. I want you so bad I can barely look at you. I just don’t wanna hurt you. Gonna be sore tomorrow, soldier,” he joked, trying to take the sincerity out of his voice, rubbing your outer lips with his thumbs, massaging the stretched muscles with care.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reached down and pet his shaft with your fingertips, pressing it into your belly, caressing it with the lightest touch. Against his will, it jerked up towards your hand in response.

He eyed you for a moment before twisting the plug out of you, not as mindful as Soap, letting the wet body of the toy rest on his sheets, covered in other men’s come.

Price dipped his thumb into your swollen hole, gathering up the mix of fluids onto the pad of his finger. He grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled you up, presenting this offering to you. Without breaking eye contact, you sucked his thumb into your mouth, eating the warm cream off of his hand.

Then, he angled himself toward you, still holding you upright, letting you watch as his cock stretched your lips wide and tight. Happy with his position, he tucked both of his hands around the back of your neck and began to rut into you like a wild beast.

You thought he was concerned about hurting you, but he didn’t hold back. If anything, he fucked you harder, as if he was trying to teach you — or himself — some kind of lesson. It was too intense. You could feel every inch of him as if you were being fucked for the first time. Your body trembled, and your mind swam, high from the continual hit of oxytocin, the pleasure making your thoughts dreamlike and surreal.

“Such a good girl for us,” he breathed, “Watchin’ you take their come like that. Bloody gorgeous. So willing. Your body just loves our cocks, don’t it?”

You nodded, trying to gasp for air, tumbling into an orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah?” He grunted, “Fuckin’ hell. You fit me like a goddamn glove, little bird. I can feel them inside of you. All of their come. Feels so soft. So wet…”

“John… unghhh!” You came on him, but he didn’t let up. He just fucked you right through it, letting you suffer on his muscle, riding you hard and sloppy.

“Can’t wait to see you with that full, round belly. These big, heavy tits. Will you let me taste your milk, hm? Just a taste.”

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his tongue, sending bolts of pleasure right to your core. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your captain, but he was out of his mind with lust. His grunting and moaning were loud and shameless, and he manhandled your body like you belonged to him. Like you were his plaything.

“You are so beautiful…” John’s voice changed its timbre, and you met his eyes. There was something else he had to tell you, but he didn’t get the chance to say it. His face twisted into a mask of blissful agony and he let himself go, pumping his come deep inside of you, screaming in loud, barking shouts, holding you so tightly to him, you could barely breathe.

He fell on you, keeping his cock buried to its hilt, pulsing in you like a second heartbeat, totally spent. With the last bit of his energy, he fumbled with the plug and replaced himself with it, rolling off of you carefully, so as not to harm you.

Hours may have passed; you had no idea. But, since the others hadn’t come looking for you, you figured time was expanding only in your mind. You were pinned to Price’s furry body, covered in his heavy muscles as his little spoon, listening to him breathe. Eventually, when you could speak in full sentences again, you spoke softly.

“John,” you kissed his palm, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fallin’ for you, little bird,” he said with a cold, calculated certainty, “We all are. Don’t know how one baby can have four fathers.”

Your heart was crushed at the disappointment in his voice, and you turned to face him,

“So, what if it has four fathers? Will you love them less?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Of course not. If you… If you asked me to, I’d sign my bloody name no matter whose baby it was. Tha’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about?” You put your hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“I’m worried it’ll be too much for you. That we’ll be too much for you. You should do what makes you happy, little bird.”

He rolled out of bed and put his clothes back on in silence. When he was done, he helped you sit up and gave you some water. Wrapping you in a big fluffy robe, he pulled you to your feet and squeezed your hand,

“C’mon. Let’s go watch your show. The lad’s will be waitin’ for you.”

You followed your captain out to the common room, seeing that Simon and Johnny had saved you a seat between them. You smiled, settling into the middle of the couch, watching as Price sat in his big chair, lighting a cigar and stealing some popcorn from Gaz.

You couldn’t help but think about what he had said, nor could you stop thinking about the way that he had fucked you. Absent-mindedly, out of some form of comfort, you squeezed your tired muscles around the plug, wondering what the future held for you and these men. Could you care for them all? Was that even in the realm of possibility? It was so far from the accepted norm, you couldn’t envision a life like that. But, you were no quitter. If anyone was worth trying for, it was these four soldiers, and you decided you were going to do everything you could to care for them as much as they cared for you. Normalcy be damned.

///////////////////////

Ch. 03

[mysteamgreencarpetcleaning]

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[euphoriaslux]

a gloomy december morning

word count: 1196

warnings: suggestive sexual content, very slight jealousy, mentions of smoking and drinking. vincent being a dreamboat

a/n: i have never written before but i watched anatomy of a fall and knew what i had to do. i am so scared and think this is garbage but i hope u guys like it :))

*

vincent is fast asleep, a true rarity for your household. he’s naked, bar the thin linen blanket draped over his hips that his mother tossed in a bag when you two first moved into this home. you brush your fingers through his silver hair, shifting to give him a soft peck on his forehead. he shifts but ultimately stays in the same position.

smiling, you gently move your duvet off of your body, shivering at the lost warmth. you scan your shared bedroom, littered with strewn clothes, empty wine bottles and folders filled with documents and find a chair with an old tee shirt on it that hits just above your underwear.

you made a mental note to at least try to clean the house sometime soon, but you just couldn’t leave your vincent alone now that you finally had him for more than two hours at a time. after a year of only seeing him at night, or when you could visit his office during your lunch break, or over facetime in the early hours of the morning, something as simple as waking up with him felt sacred. you didn’t know how much of this you had.

you brace as you push the door close as quietly as possible, hissing as your feet hit the cold tile of the linoleum of your kitchen floor. it still smells vaguely of the cake you two shared last night, picking at pieces of tiramisu between gulps of white wine and sneaky kisses even though no one was watching. you grab some ground coffee and start to heat up your stovetop espresso maker, which you got at the insistence of your very stubborn husband.

-

“love, can’t we just get an instant coffee maker? it will be so much faster” you ask from behind your laptop, tucked into your velvet sofa as the december rain gently pattered onto your roof.

vincent chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer.

“you have not had a real cappuccino if it comes from a machine, chérie,” he says as he rummages through the kitchen drawers while swearing under his breath.

you rise from the couch with a soft sigh, shutting your laptop and placing it on the glass table in front of you and grabbing vincent’s lighter that’s pressed in between the couch cushions. his head whips around when he hears you click the lighter, and your cheeks widen as you walk over to him. vincent smiles back, his cigarette loosely hanging between his lips and his hair slightly disheveled from his search. he leans down ever so slightly, looking into your eyes as the flame lights the cigarette, taking a long drag before leaning against the kitchen counter.

“the coffee is more, how do you say bien équilibrée in english, darling?”

“well rounded,” you toss the lighter behind him, crossing your arms over your chest. he hums, nodding as he breathes out wafts of smoke.

“the coffee is more well-rounded,” the word sounds a little funny coming out of his mouth as if you could see his brain forming each letter in real-time. you can’t help but giggle, reaching behind him to open the kitchen window.

“i’m sure it is”

before you can fully stand up again his hand is on your lower back, softly bringing your body against his. he smells like tobacco and the slightly too minty toothpaste you buy from the convenience store down the road. he looks so beautiful in the dim winter light.

“tu me fais confiance, n'est-ce pas? (you trust me, don’t you?)” he asks, pressing his fingers into your side. he moves to hover just above your neck, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as he nibbles ever so gently on your neck, just below your ear. your eyes flutter closed and you feel the warmth pool in your lower stomach.

“vincent-”

“ you do, right?” he cuts you off as his hand wanders to the front of your body, playing with the waistband of your panties. his fingers ghost just above your cunt, and you sigh.

“of course, my love. always.”

you whine from the loss of contact as he steps away from you, taking a drag with a slight smile on his face.

“bon,” he says, his free hand caressing the side of your face.

“so we’ll go get our moka pot - not machine - tonight”.

-

you grin at the memory as you pour two shots of espresso into vincent’s favorite mug, along with a splash of whole milk, and turn on the burner to make another for yourself. you rock on your feet as you think of what to make for breakfast - maybe eggs? but vincent forgot to run to the farmers market, maybe jam on toast. there might be some leftover brioche-

you jump when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your chest smiling as you feel your husbands face nuzzle into your shoulder, pressing a few faint kisses on your skin while his hair tickles your neck.

“i thought you’d sleep for a few more hours honey,” you say, turning around to hand him his cup of coffee and laughing as his eyes brighten. he takes a sip, closing his eyes as he drinks.

“couldn’t sleep,” he says after a few moments, opening his eyes to stare into yours. his voice is deeper than normal, and you can tell he just woke up because there’s still a gravelly edge to it.

“i sleep poorly without you, honey.”

you raise your eyebrows as you let your fingers graze his chest and down his stomach.

“that’s a good one, do you tell all your girlfriends that?”

he rolls his eyes, taking a big sip before setting his mug on the counter.

“i’m being serious. i swear, every time it would get late and i’d try to sleep on sandra’s couch, i just couldn’t.”

your body goes rigid at the sound of her name but you try and ignore it, tracing circles onto his stomach. your mouth feels a little drier than it was a few minutes before.

vincent notices, of course he does. there’s nothing you could do that would get past him, the stellar lawyer.

“don’t be like that,” he whispers, cupping your hand in his face. you try to keep your gaze down but he tilts your head up.

you roll your eyes.

“every day while i was gone, all i wanted was to be home with you. you were all i could think about. you are all i ever think about.”

you feel lightheaded at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him deeply, sighing as your hand wanders down to the waistband of his boxers. you feel him smile into the kiss, putting out the cigarette so he has both hands free to touch you.

“take me to bed?”

you feel vincent’s stomach tense as your hand dips into his boxers. he gives you a soft kiss on the side of your face.

“how can i say no when you ask so nicely”.

[classypauli]

Hi, could you write some fluff with Jenna and male reader? I love how you write

Kisses & Lattes

jenna ortega x male!reader

an: Hey! Thank you for request, I hope you´ll have fun reading it. For those who are uncomfortable feel free to imagine the gender you would like! I was just using it bc of the request. Thanks again! Take care!!

Sorry for mistakes!

Everything started with a coffee. Ever since you were a kid you were mesmerized by hot drinks like tea and chocolate or matchas but the one that mostly caught your attention was a coffee.

It was quite a paradox since you didn´t find your way to it when you were young. You could always smell it from your parent's breath or every morning when you woke up.

Your parents owned a coffee shop and sometimes you helped them clean or prepare. Maybe that´s how you started this way.

As you grew older and started spending more time in the shop, with a good book to read your hand also found a cup of dark beans with boiled water. That was your must-to-do in a day. Just sit on a cozy sofa in a corner with a book in one hand and coffee in the other.

That´s how you met your now long-term girlfriend. Jenna was a regular customer in your shop. It happened a lot of times you made her a latte or cappuccino even though she mostly came because of a hot tea.

In a country like Ireland where townsfolks often wore jumpers and hoodies, this type of drink was made for it.

„What´s on your mind?“

You were cut off by a gentle voice beside you as you stared out the big window. It was the week before Christmas and the weather outside started getting harder. When you walked outside you could feel the cold air hitting your nostrils and if you weren´t wearing a beanie you could be sure your ears wouldn´t like that.

It just started to snow when you were doing your last preparations for tomorrow's big day. You were finally opening your coffee shop after the long reconstruction. Your parents gave the shop to you despite your declines.

„Nothin´.“ You smiled down at her as you felt her hand reaching to yours squeezing it in her own.

Jenna knew you were getting worried. You were afraid nobody would show up. Yes, the weather

wasn´t helping but would the storm be the reason for it?

You were standing beside each other just looking as the snow started to get dense and the

Snowflakes are much bigger than before.  

„Come, I´ll make you something.“ You pulled her gently into you as you made your way to the

Coffee machine. Her big brown eyes were scanning your every move. How you melted the coffee and got it into the machine. You poured milk into a small teapot and slowly started to froth the milk. You grabbed the cup with the coffee and started pouring the milk into it.

Jenna enjoyed this. You were so calm doing it. Your arms were slowly but confidently circling the cup making some imagine in a coffee.

You stopped and grabbed the cup slowly giving in to Jenna. There was a big heart in it. She was amazed every time she saw it. Your drawing in coffee was perfect, sometimes you drew a swan, and through Halloween, you drew a pumpkin but what Jenna loved the most was the heart.

She gently grabbed the warm cup from your hands and slowly brought it under her nose to smell it. Slowly taking a sip while looking up at you as you smiled.

That´s how you spend the rest of the evening. The only light was the small lights by the bar and outside of the shop. Just enjoying each other's health as you cuddled up in one of your big sofas with a blanket around your legs and sweaters, thinking about what will tomorrow's day bring.

-

You sighed as your nerves were getting higher with each passing minute. Your coffee shop was already opened an hour but nobody showed. Not like you were getting high expectations but you were still a bit disappointed.

The room was decorated with Christmas ornaments. The soft music could be heard from the speakers around creating a cozy feeling. You could smell the hot cocoa and fresh spine.

Jenna was sitting by one of the small tables in your hoodie that was too big for her. Sometimes she would shoot you a look but each time her heart swelled at the sight of you.

She knew you were just being strong not showing how much you care about it but deep down she knew how much it affected you. The weather didn´t stop all night making it almost impossible to walk outside nor drive.

Jenna let out a sigh and stood up from the chair. „Y/N.“ She called after you looking at your back.

„Hm.“ You let out but didn´t turn around. You were focused on cutting something behind the bar.

„Y/N.“ She whispered as she came closer to you hugging you from behind with both of her arms around your torso.

„What´s wrong Jen.“ You turned around and looked down at her big eyes. The freckles were more visible as her cheeks and nose were a bit red from the cold. You swore this was your biggest weakness.

„Are you angry?“ she asked with her small voice searching for an answer in your eyes.

Her question shocked you as you blinked twice like you were trying to understand her question. „What? No, Jen. Why would I?“ you quickly pulled your arms around her.

„You were trying so hard these past months and when it´s finally here...“

You gently brushed the hair that was on her forehead, brushing it back behind her ear. „I´m not angry nor disappointed. I completely understand why it turned out like this.“ You said as you were looking into her eyes to make her sure. „It has to be like this I guess.“

Jenna leaned into your chest to hear your heartbeat with a sense of anticipation.

A couple of hours after, you and Jenna decided to close the coffee shop and get home. You didn´t want to do it but deep down you knew you wouldn´t have a customer today. You promised to make her dinner after spending so much time here. As you were getting your jacket you could hear bells by the door.

„Ow, man! This weather.“

You quickly turned around with wide eyes not believing what you saw.

„Finally! The road was awful!“

„I know right? We barely left the house and almost immediately got stuck!“

There were your friends with a wide smile across their faces. „Y/N!“ They went to you to hug you. „We´re so glad to finally see you! And look at this!“ one of your friends spun around with arms wide open. „It´s so beautiful in here!“

„W-What are you doing here?“

They laughed at your shocked face. „Look at him! He can´t believe we are here!“

„Well we heard that today is a day with a big D so we couldn´t let that slide.“

The realization hit you like a train and you spun around to look behind you. There was standing  Jenna with her small frame trying to hide her smile.

Slowly more people came, your friends, Jenna´s friends, and your parents. Everyone was talking to each other around the room you could only hear happiness. Your hands were full of work but it made you happy. You were feeling complete doing what you enjoy for the people you love.

„It was you. You called them.“ You whispered in Jenna´s ear as you hugged her from behind. She was sitting on your knees as you were sitting down on a sofa.

She turned to her side raising her eyebrows and looking around. „I don´t know what you are talking about.“

You squeezed her tighter in your arms as she let out a laugh. You kissed the side of her head as you leaned on her shoulder. The both of you were sitting there looking at your family feeling warm in your heart as you watched them talking and laughing loudly, enjoying the night.

[jymwahuwu]

Seeing old man Yingxing always makes me giggle. The power this man has over me is insaneeeeeee.

Imagine teasing Yingxing for being an old man, going as far as to tease how much his stamina has depleted after being cupped up in his workshop and not touching you for weeks.

Then you found yourself being split open on his huge dick.

When he fills you, he will switch to fingering, mercilessly finger-fucking your poor pussy, causing his seed to flow out alongside your juices. But then he'll plug you again and fill you again and again, constantly switching between his finger and his dick, to show you off that even though he's a bit older now, you shouldn't--and should never be a brat to him, otherwise he'll have to put you in your place like now.

Also if you ever tease him that he is starting to have a "dad's body", he'll work out again, training his fingers muscle to give you the best fingers you could ever have <3.

CW: yandere, (implied in the past) kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con

related content: Yingxing wanting a sweet little spouse and keeping them in the house

Um… that's it 😌💞

The new year has arrived. In the past two weeks, Yingxing has been focusing more on forging weapons than ever before. He closed one eye to observe the blade, pressed his calloused palm on the weapon, and at the same time monitored the forging speed of the machine. The hot stove continued to keep the heat, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. And you, his spouse, cleaning and cooking according to his instructions, occasionally putting dim sum and lunch in the basket and taking them to visit him. The workbench is close to home. He left you an authentication key.

He rested with his eyes closed. You wiped the sweat from Yingxing's forehead with a handkerchief and placed your lunch on the empty space on the workbench. He raised his lips when he realized you were here. "Thank you." The two of you curled up in this space, watching TV together. For the past two weeks, the two of you had been sleeping and cuddling quietly - you going to bed first, then him quietly pulling up the quilt and falling asleep with you. You couldn't help but feel a little naughty, teasing him for being an old man, whose stamina must have been exhausted after being in the workbench for weeks.

You get the manhandle and constant squeezing, all of a sudden. Like you said, these words must have aroused Yingxing's attention, and you were split open by his huge cock. He will not allow you to be such a brat, questioning and making fun of his abilities. The hand slaps your ass, giving you some warning, and presses his cock into your vagina as the warm tingle and bliss surround you. His calloused palm, which was used to touching weapons, had a rough, mature touch. Use both thumbs to pull your ass apart from behind, exposing the inside of you, and slam, squeeze, and thrust.

Your hands fell on the soft sofa, and your face was buried on the sofa, with your butt raised up in shame. All that could be organized were sticky moans. "ah…uh…wait…"

Yingxing proves to you his endurance and staying power. After finishing a creampie inside you, he uses his fingers to thrust into you again until you twitch. No rest time is given to you. Those creamy puddles are right there on the couch.

You don't have any chance to argue that you were just joking <3

[heliza24]

Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out. 

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia  never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*. 

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent.  The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”. 

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back. 

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.)  If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

[humanpurposes]

Hysteria

(1950s AU) A housewife reaches breaking point and seeks medical advice at her husband's request // Main Masterlist

Aemond x nameless female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, period typical sexism, dub-con,

Words: 5400

A/n: inspired by this ask on @lightningandfireinmybones 's blog, shout out to @b-vvitched for the prompt, I couldn't stop thinking about it :) Also available to read on AO3.

She reads over the gold painted letters on the door to make sure she has the right room.

Dr A. Targaryen

General Practitioner

She brings her hand up to the door, hesitating for a moment before she softly taps her knuckles against the wood, thrice.

She holds her breath, unsure if a moment passes or a minute.

His voice comes soft and distant from the other side. “Enter.”

The room is simply four white walls, a dark wood desk and cabinets and an examination table with black leather upholstery. The harsh afternoon sun and a slight breeze bleed in from the open windows, floating through thin, white curtains. It’s surprisingly serene but still plain and inoffensive.

Dr Targaryen– Aemond as he insists as he shakes her hand– has harsh blue eyes, the left framed by a long scar slicing down his face, a pointed nose, curved lips, a sharp jaw and pale blond hair, stylishly gelled like some movie star. Something about him is unsettling despite the small smile and the impeccable manners as he offers her a seat in the green leather chair on the other side of his desk.

She contracts her hand slightly once he lets go of her. His grip had been rather firm.

He opens a brown leather notebook and flicks through a clipboard on the desk, frowning and tapping a pen against it as he goes over some paperwork and basic information she had given the nurse, as instructed.

She holds her hands together in her lap and winces at how damp her palms are. She’s sure it’s just the weather, and smooths them over her pale blue, rayon skirt. She checks her nails while she’s at it too. She had painted them red the night before, but they are already starting to chip from where she’d started her day with washing the dishes and doing a deep clean of the kitchen.

“You said your husband recommended you seek medical advice, is that right?” he asks, his head tilted down and his eyes meeting hers, expecting a prompt answer, she realises.

She swallows through the scratchy feeling in her throat, wishing she had accepted the receptionist’s offer of water. “Yes, that’s right.”

His eyes move over the page again and he gives a cryptic “hmm.”

The specifics often change but lately she’s realised that each day of her life feels the same. Wake up before her husband, make his coffee and his breakfast, make sure he wants for nothing and see him off to work. Help the mother-in-law with her shopping and her laundry. Bake a cake for the village fundraiser and drop it off at the the Church. Make polite conversation with the vicar and the other women helping out, compliment their babies, ask about the older children. Try not to cry when she’s bombarded with the dreaded question. “How soon can we expect little ones from you?”

Two weeks ago her husband had come home from work and found her on the sofa, staring into space, too tired to even reach for a book or a magazine. Everything had seemed to be going wrong for her that day, evidenced by the broken washing machine, the broken heel on her shoe, the cuts and blisters on her feet, the shopping left unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. She was absolutely exhausted, but when his dinner wasn't ready and waiting for him, her husband hit the roof.

Something snapped. Before she knew it, she was screaming, eyes hot and streaming with tears as she choked on her own sobs. She had never been so loud in her life. She can hardly even remember what she said.

Her husband’s voice screams inside her head. “Emotional… irrational… hysterical…”

“And you went to the nurse first?” Aemond asks. 

“Yes.”

He looks back at the notes. “What did she tell you?”

She shifts in her chair. It should all be right there in front of him, why does she have to say it?

She takes a deep breath, as subtly as she can. “She suggested it could be a hormonal imbalance, or a symptom of…”

Aemond raises a brow, expectantly.

She feels a warmth rushing to her cheeks “... monthly courses,” she says quietly.

“And have you had issues with those?” he asks.

“They can be irregular.”

He hums again and writes something in his notebook.

She clenches her fist around her skirt and notices the soft ticking of the clock on the wall over the desk. It’s not too obtrusive, and the rhythm gives her something to focus on while neither of them are speaking.

Aemond shifts back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, absentmindedly pressing the lid of his pen to his lips like he’s trying to solve a crossword in the morning paper. “What exactly was your husband’s main concern?”

There comes a familiar feeling, an emptiness in her chest like her body might concave, and a swelling in her eyes. She bites down on her lip to dispel the urge to cry.

Everyone around her loves to comment on how happy she is, how blessed she is to have such a happy marriage and a loving husband.

“He says I’ve been too emotional.”

“Emotional in what way?”

She tells him about the outburst two weeks ago, expecting him to tut and shake his head and chide her for her behaviour. Instead he watches her and listens.

“He says he doesn’t know what else to do with me. He says he does everything he can to make me happy, but that it’ll never be enough for me,” she says.

“And does he make you happy?” he asks.

Her answer hitches in her throat. The obvious response would be of course. He does what any good husband does, works, brings home a salary, sweet talks her mother and smokes cigars with her father when they visit every other Sunday. 

Happiness seems to be an external factor, something people comment on and praise her. When other people say she is happy she wears it with pride, like a medal or a precious piece of jewellery.

She loves her husband, as well as any self respecting woman does. She reminds herself that’s the whole reason why she’s here.

At her silence Aemond smiles to himself and begins to write. She follows how his fingertips grip the pen and how the tendons in his hands flex.

“Wait!” she says, shuffling forward in her seat.

He pauses and looks at her like he did before, with his chin tilted down.

“No– I meant to say yes. Yes, he makes me happy.”

His eyes move around her face and briefly down, over the pearl charm hanging from her neck, her white blouse and her hands bunched in her blue skirt. She releases them when she realises he’s looking and rests them on the arms of the chair instead.

This feels like a test, one in which every word and gesture will be put to scrutiny, earning either a curious “hmm” or a scratching of the pen against the paper. She wonders which is worse.

“How long have you been married?” he asks.

“A year in July.”

“No children?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His question leaves a tight feeling in her chest and in her gut. 

Aemond sets the pen down on the desk without making a sound. “Sorry, I know these questions can be obtrusive. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it would be useful to know what I’m working with.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it, she thinks.

“No it’s alright,” she says, her fingers moving anxiously over each other. “It’s not for lack of trying. We… try a few times a week. Usually on the weekends or when he’s not tired– he’s often tired after work.”

“And how is it?”

“Oh, um–” without thinking her hands move back into her lap and she starts to pick at the red nail polish. “He says there’s something wrong with me.”

Aemond tilts his head. “Wrong with you?”

She squeezes her thighs together at the familiar memory of her husband’s downright painful attempts to make love to her. He practically has to force his way inside of her and she can never stand it for more than a few thrusts before she pushes him off. 

He was understanding for the first few months, but she can tell it’s starting to irritate him now. She doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work, what she could possibly be doing wrong.

“Does he prepare you?” 

She looks up with a knitted brow. “Prepare me?”

He tuts and mutters something that sounds like “poor thing,” before scrawling another quick note. 

Then he stands, rolling up the sleeves of his white coat and the black shirt underneath. “I want to check a few things,” he says, cocking his head towards the examination table on the other side of the room.

She follows dutifully, propping her hands against the leather upholstery and pushing herself up to sit on it. Her black heels don’t reach the floor. She crosses them at the ankle and lets them swing a little. 

Once Aemond has washed his hands he approaches her. He’s tall, she realises as he stands before her. His hips are level with her knees and the edge of the table and while he’s not quite close enough to touch her, her legs twitch at the proximity.

She tries to avert her gaze from the somewhat intense expression in his eyes as he simply looks at her. Her eyes don’t stop moving, looking past his shoulder or down at her sides, but there’s not anything interesting to look at.

She focuses on the steady ticking of the clock, counting ten long seconds before she realises she’s holding her breath.

When she finally releases she finds herself focusing instead on the gentle sounds of Aemond’s breath through his nose, the smell of his hair gel, musky aftershave and the lingering scent of smoke. 

Warm fingertips brush against her jaw as he brings her to look at him. She can feel the slight roughness of the pads of his fingers, but he’s gentle when he touches her, almost cautious. 

He leans in a little closer until he’s touching her knees. She doesn’t let herself react but her heart is drumming furiously, more so when his thumb strokes over her cheek. He moves back and forth, grazing the corner of her mouth, before he swipes it over her lower lip. 

She relaxes her mouth as he presses and tugs on the soft flesh. It’s somehow both terrifying and oddly reassuring.

And then he settles, pressing both of her lips into a slight pout while his fingertips rest against her jaw and the top of her neck.

“Open your mouth for me,” he says.

She stares back at him with wide eyes. Had she heard that correctly?

The corners of his mouth curl politely, waiting for her compliance.

So she does as he asks.

With his fingers holding her chin, Aemond inches his thumb into her mouth, settling on her tongue. His skin tastes clean and faintly medicinal from the amber soap.

“You can close your mouth,” he says.

She keeps her eyes on his as she closes her lips around him, careful not to touch him with her teeth.

He hums again, low and contentedly. “Good girl.”

She shudders at the sudden weightlessness in her belly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

She gives him a small nod.

"Good," he utters, "just breathe."

She loses count of the seconds on the clock as he simply settles inside of her. She does as he says, breathing deeply through her nose, looking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to read if he's pleased or not.

When he starts to withdraw and she instinctively drags her tongue along his thumb. She looks down at his hand, the imprint of her mauve lipstick on his skin, the glistening digit and the small line of spit that trails from her mouth, which he wipes away with his fingers.

“How did that feel?” he asks.

She thinks for a moment. “Good.”

He glances down and her eyes follow, to the fabric of her skirt. When she stands it falls to her shin, but seated, the hem rides up to just below her knees. He places a wide hand on her left knee, their skin separated only by a thin layer of nylon stockings.

“These outbursts of yours,” he mutters, “are they a regular occurrence?”

“Not really,” she says.

“What do you think caused it?”

She presses her teeth together and looks away from him to think. “Lots of things I suppose. It all piles up.”

“How did it feel, to shout at your husband?”

She huffs a laugh at the instinct that appears in her head, it’s not something she should ever admit, but there’s something about Aemond’s eyes and the feeling of his hands that make her want to tell him the truth,

“I liked it, I was just so…” she shakes her head looking for the right word, but she supposes there’s a simpler explanation. “I was so angry, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“What were you angry at?” Aemond asks, his thumb starting to stroke against her thigh. 

Would it be too much to list every aspect of her life that irritates her?

She hates a lot of things. She hates tidying the house just for it to get messy again. She hates it when her new shoes dig into her skin and make her bleed. She hates that she seems incapable of interacting with another person without suffering their scrutiny. She hates it when people tell her that her life is perfect.

Everything races around in her head, screaming and shouting at her until the noise becomes silent, just a throbbing pain in her head.

“Just… everything,” she groans, rubbing her fingertips against her temple. “I don’t understand it, everyone says our life together is so perfect, but I don’t feel perfect.”

His hand moves away from her and she looks up at the absence.

Aemond takes a slow breath. “Are you familiar with hysteria?”

Her heart sinks and he seems to see it in her face.

He purses his lips for a moment before he explains, “it’s essentially an excess of ill-managed emotions. It can lead to irrational behaviour and quite severe distress.”

She’s heard of the condition before, sparse stories here and there of men who had no choice but to seek proper treatment for their wives when they are too emotional… irrational… hysterical.

She’s not like those women, surely, and her husband knows that, right?

“Is that what's wrong with me?” she asks.

His mouth quirks. “Quite possibly.”

“But I’ve heard of women with this condition before. I’ve heard what their husbands do to them, I—” she can feel her eyes beginning to well with hot, stinging tears. “That’s not going to happen to me, is it?”

She hangs her head, dread pooling in her belly, until his hands cup the sides of her face. Aemond brings her gaze up into his eyes.

“Don’t send me away,” she whispers, blinking the tears from her eyes so they roll down her cheeks. “Please, there must be something you can do–”

“There there, pet,” he says, tracing his thumbs along her teartracks, “everything is going to be alright, hmm? We can sort you out.”

She nods at his reassurance and the feeling of his hands against her skin. It must be entirely improper to be so close to another man, even more so when she starts to realise just how much she likes it, a sweet sort of unease. Perhaps that’s just his nature, perhaps he’s just good at this part of his job.

For a moment he presses his lips together in a strange way, like he’s holding something back. “There is one treatment I’m keen to suggest,” he says.

“What treatment?” she asks.

He tilts his head slightly. “Hysteria is an instability of emotion. You need a release.”

“Like when I shouted at my husband?”

He smiles at that. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

She nods.

“We can undergo controlled releases,” he says, “you’ll be much happier for it.”

She takes a sharp breath when one of his hands moves down from her cheek to rest casually at her waist.

“I can start the treatment today, if you’d like?”

His face is close to hers now, She feels every flutter of his breath, the heat of his body separated by inches of empty space.

“Yes please,” she says quietly, like she might disturb the peacefulness in the room if she speaks any louder. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Don’t worry, pet, we’ve still got plenty of time left,” he says, stepping away. “Take your skirt off, and lie back.”

Suddenly her skin feels tight. “My skirt?”

“If you don’t mind?” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards his desk. “It just makes things a little easier, maybe the blouse too.”

She hops down from the table, heels clicking against the floor.  While Aemond’s pen scratches against paper, she turns her back and starts to pick at the buttons on the top of her blouse. She pulls it over her head and folds it, setting it down on the table, where her head will go. Then she pulls down the zip on her skirt and lets it fall around her. For the slightly mortifying prospect of standing there in her stockings and undergarments, the breeze from the window washes over the bare skin of her arms and torso. It’s quite nice, a welcome relief.

She waits with her heels close together and her hands clasped in front of her. Aemond has his back to her and she watches the way the sunlight catches in the silvery streaks of his hair. He tears a sheet from the pad of prescription papers and leaves it on his desk before he moves to the sink to wash his hands. It’s methodical, like before, well rehearsed and memorised for efficiency. Does he even have to think about what he’s doing, she wonders?

Once his hands are dried he reaches into a drawer under his desk. He keeps his eyes on the small object in his hands as he walks towards her.

She straightens her back and puts her hands on the table behind her, testing her weight so she can shuffle on top of it. 

Aemond looks up and she pauses.

His eyes dart up and down her body. “Shoes and stockings off too.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks but she complies, reaching down to undo the small buckles on each shoe. Once they’re under the table she stands straight and curls her thumbs around her stockings.

She looks up to Aemond. He gives her a small nod.

She starts to pull the thin material down her legs, so thin it should hardly make a difference. She shivers as the breeze meets a new part of her body. She straightens again, dutifully awaiting her next instruction. 

The corners of Aemond’s mouth curl. “Perfect,” he mutters. 

He steps closer to her, until she can make out the object in his hands. It’s a coppery colour, gleaming like metal, and no smaller than a tube of lipstick. He slips it into his coat pocket.

She follows Aemond’s hand as he reaches out and runs a slender finger under the strap of her brassiere. “I think we’ll keep this on,” he says.

She nods, though she doesn’t really know why.

A hum sounds in his throat and his eyes look over her face. “Lie back.”

She does as he says and fiddles with her hands, unsure of where to put them until she decides to keep them by her sides. Anticipation sets her nerves alight. She listens to every breath, each taunting footstep as Aemond comes to stand at the foot of the bed.

He moves slowly so as not to agitate her, but her whole body tenses when his hands clasp around her ankles. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, but even when softly spoken his voice leaves a restless feeling in her gut. “Shh, try to relax, and just let me…” he lifts her legs up along her body until her knees are by her hips. His hands go to her thighs next and she lets out a short whimper of surprise when he pulls her closer to him.

“There we go,” he muses to himself, one hand on her thigh while he gently rests the other on her navel, over the hem of her panties.

Her hands are restless, fists clenching and nails digging into her palms.

Aemond looks down at her with a hint of concern. “You can tell me if you want to stop, at any point.”

“No it’s alright,” she breathes, suppressing the urge to arch her back.

His brows raise as he looks down, grazing his fingertips over her skin. Each movement has her breath hitching or her body squirming, no matter how hard she tries to relax, just as he’d instructed.

He brings both hands to her knees, closing them together before he reaches for her panties and slides them from her legs. She doesn’t see where he drops them. Her hands come into fists again as he gradually spreads her legs. 

She’s not sure what to expect or how this is supposed to help her control her emotions, but she tries to concentrate on staying still, keeping whatever dignity she has left.

“Look at that,” Aemond hums, circling his thumbs against her inner thighs, “you’re already getting wet.”

She can feel it, the warmth pooling between her legs. No one has ever told her it’s bad, but it’s one of those things she wonders if she should be ashamed of. She tries to shift but there’s nowhere for her body to go, nowhere she can hide from him.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, “it’s not bad, is it?”

Aemond frowns. “You mean you don’t…” he trails off as his face melts into an amused sort of sympathy, like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Bad news for your husband maybe. It means you’re aroused.”

Aroused. She repeats the word to herself a few times. 

Surely it is a bad thing to find herself in such a state, only she finds herself turning her attention to Aemond. Her gaze trails shamelessly over the veins and tendons of his hands and forearms as he kneads at her thighs, the curve of his upper lip and the tip of his tongue swiping between his teeth. If only she could read his mind, figure out what he’s thinking behind those pretty blue eyes, what hypothesis he’s playing around with inside his head. 

And then he reaches into his pocket. She lifts her head to try and get a better look. The coppery object looks more like an oversized bullet, with a slightly pointed head and a black button at its base. When Aemond presses the button it starts to hum. Even the noise of it sparks a reaction from her. She feels something strange, like a shockwave flashing through her body.

“Relax,” Aemond says, bringing his other hand to her hip. “I don’t want to have to tie you down.”

“No,” she utters, “sorry.” She lets her head fall against the upholstery and stares up at the ceiling, determined not to react.

Until something presses to her centre, humming against her. Pleasure pulses through her, unfamiliar but hot and bright. Her eyes snap shut and her hips try to buck but Aemond’s hand holds her down. 

“How does it feel?” he says.

Her first attempt to speak comes out as a broken whimper. “Good,” she manages, stilling her hips from trying to rock against the bullet. “Fuck…”

Something inside of her feels tight, tensing and tensing until she’s sure she can’t take any more. But he keeps it against her, making small, rhythmic movements through her folds, edging her closer to that rising feeling only to relieve her of it.

Her nails start to drag along the leather, clawing at it for purchase. She tries to stay still, to keep her hips steady but something has to give. She turns her head to the side, whimpering and groaning into her shoulder.

“There you go,” Aemond hums, as he finds a truly torturous pattern, slowly swiping upwards from her entrance to the sweet spot of her pearl, only to start over. 

“Please,” she whimpers as he tears her away from that feeling again. Blissful tears blur her vision and she feels utterly weightless. “I can’t stand it…”

He lingers the bullet just below her pearl. She’s so close to something. She can feel it. 

“Do you want to stop?” Aemond asks.

“No!” she cries.

He starts to move in small circles now and her body feels like it’s burning. “Just take it,” he says, “you can take it, just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“Yes… yes…” she utters like a dreamy chant. 

The button clicks and the vibrations increase. She hardly registers the wanton noises she makes, but she’s all too aware of wet sounds of her arousal and Aemond’s short hums when her hips start to buck again.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Aemond says. “Come on, pet, you can do it, you’re almost there…”

She feels the hum of her throat as she groans his name and suddenly the tight feeling snaps. Her whole body releases, just as Aemond promised, and she feels herself come undone. He guides her through it, the bullet whirring against her and his hand steady on her hip.

When he finally withdraws, her limbs don’t feel like her own. She listens to her own breath and feels the rise and fall of her chest as she wills herself into a state of awareness. She props herself onto her elbows and her eyes meet Aemond’s.

He smirks, and looks down again, gently drawing a thumb through her folds. 

Her back arches and her breath hitches, though not as intensely as before. She can feel how slick she is now, how easily he moves against her. She eases under his touch and just lets it feel good.

“You did so well,” he says, “fuck, the way your cunt twitches when you come…”

She gazes at him with a bewildered kind of awe, at his parted lips, the golden glow of sunlight trailing down his jaw and his neck, and now the dark, almost hungry look in his eyes. She can already feel the desire rising again, the wanting for more.

“There’s something else I want to try,” he says. His thumb slips further down, teasing her entrance. “If you’ll let me?”

She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

“Good girl,” he hums.

That alone has her trying to roll her hips against him, but then he’s gone. She wants to groan in protest but keeps her mouth shut as she watches him remove his white coat and black shirt, both of which he drapes over his chair. For his seemingly slender frame, he’s surprisingly muscular. 

With his back still turned to her she watches his hands move to his trousers. She hears the clinking of his belt buckle and the sound of his fly coming undone. He reaches back into the same drawer, tears something between his teeth and discards a small, white packet on the desk. 

As he comes to stand before her once more she can’t help the small smile that graces her lips, unashamedly appreciating the muscles of his torso, his pectorals and the lines of his abdominals, and his now freed cock, already hard, and certainly larger than her husband’s.

He stands before her once again, bringing her knees down so he can slot himself between her legs.

She can already feel herself twitching and her heart racing. 

He doesn’t waste much time on preamble. “You’re fucking soaked,” he mutters, lining the his cock to her entrance and taking a hold of her thigh, “be a shame to waste it.”

She expects it to hurt when he pushes inside of her, and for a moment it does. She feels the way he stretches her out with just the tip. He moves slowly, dragging in and out of her, each time pushing in a little more. She can take the pain, at least until it starts to melt away. After a few strokes it feels effortless.

Aemond lets out a sharp grunt as he comes close to bottoming out. “How does it feel?” he asks with a small amount of strain.

It’s a different kind of pleasure, it’s duller and deeper, less frantic but it still burns in the best way.

“Good,” she breathes.

Aemond’s hands take hold of her waist as he increases his pace, dragging her into him to match his thrusts.

The air feels hot and thick now, the ticking of the clock drowned out by laboured panting, breathless moans and the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, sinking his fingertips deeper into her flesh.

“I don’t suppose that’s a medical term?” she says with a dazed grin.

Aemond huffs a laugh but it seems to spur him on, his jaw slack and his brow furrowed in determination. 

She wraps her legs around his hips and reaches up for him, but all she manages is to graze her fingertips over his torso. He snatches her wrists, leaning over to pin them on either side of her head as he brutally starts to snap her hips into hers. Like this he fucks her deeper and harder against the leather.

She feels her release building slowly, his cock brushing against a spot that has her eyes watering again.

“Going to come for me?” Aemond grits out, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I want to,” she whimpers, arching her back to get closer to him, “fuck–”

He releases one of her wrists and slips his hand between them, circling her pearl with the pads of his fingers. 

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear. “You’re squeezing me so good,” he whispers harshly, “nearly there, nearly there sweetheart…”

Her legs start to shake as her pleasure peaks and her climax washes over her. Every part of her body tenses and moulds itself into him. Aemond doesn’t relent, he keeps fucking her until she’s whining and squirming, until finally he lets out a guttural groan into her neck. His hips still and she feels him throbbing inside of her, spilling himself into the condom.

For a moment she’s content to lie there, no matter how uncomfortable the surface of the bed is. She likes Aemond’s weight on top of her, his breath on her neck, the scent of him, the sweat from his brow against her skin. But they don’t stay like that for long. He pulls away from her and makes quick work of disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“Nothing wrong in that regard,” he says, reaching for her hand to help her sit up. “If you’re having trouble it’s the fault of your husband. He needs to prepare you before he tries to fuck you.”

She flicks her hair from her neck to relieve some of the heat. “Oh, right.” She can feel herself trembling, but she feels light, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. 

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, placing a reassuring hold to her arm.

“Good,” she says.

Aemond carefully helps her back into her panties, stockings, shoes, blouse and skirt. He rights her necklace, wipes the dried tears from her cheeks, drags his thumb around her mouth where her lipstick has smudged and helps her down from the bed, keeping a firm hand on her until she nods to let him know she’s alright. 

He tears off a prescription paper and hands it to her. She quickly skims over it. He’s not prescribed any medication or recommended a lobotomy, thank God. 

“Contraction therapy?” she reads, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“I want to see you twice weekly,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. “Maybe we can go for three times a week, if you feel it would be beneficial.”

She tries her best to hide her smile. “Well I’m sure you know best, doctor.”

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