#there’s a clear difference and it shows???

[evnseokz]

☆ needy for jay

pairing: bf! jay x needy! shy! f. reader

contents: ovulation mention, fingering, kissing, pet names, p in v, soft dom jay, reader a simp lowk, finger sucking, cum eating, riding, nipple play

synopsis: reader is horny af during ovulation week but is too shy to directly ask jay for help

w.c. 1.7k

ovulation week is a bitch. literally every little thing your boyfriend did was turning you on beyond belief. the way his sleeves were rolled up while he was cooking dinner, showcasing his forearms, the veins trailing down to his pretty hands. his long, slender fingers precisely cutting up vegetables. your eyes trailed down every inch of his profile, taking in every aspect of your gorgeous boyfriend as you watched him from the dinner table. jay pretended not to notice your stares, but he could feel your eyes on him. he’s felt them on him all week but hasn’t said anything, hoping you’d come to him first.

once dinner was ready and jay brought the plates to the table, you couldn’t help but trail your eyes down his arms, to his hands, and to his fingers again. wishing they were inside you. you press your legs together under the table as you mutter a quick thank you to jay. “you’re welcome, baby,” he says as he takes his seat across from you at the table. you keep your eyes on him, trailing down to his chest, where he’s got a couple of his buttons undone, showing a small amount of skin. he was driving you crazy. you bring your eyes back up, and he’s already looking at you, giving you a small smile, a blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you look down at your food. “are you feeling okay, my love? you’ve been awfully quiet this evening.” jay says, snapping you out of the trance you’ve been in since he sat in front of you. “y-yeah, i’m okay! don’t worry,” you smile at him. he nods, accepting your answer for the time being.

you both continue to eat your food, and you offer to do the dishes since jay did the cooking. “you’re the best, baby; i’ll go find something for us to watch on TV,” he says while placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. you close your eyes at the feeling, trying to keep your composure as you smile up at him. he heads into the living room, settling on the couch and grabbing the remote to find something to watch. you try to clear your mind of these thoughts you’ve been having while you wash the dishes, almost feeling successfully distracted until you look over to see how jay was sitting on the couch. he sat with his lap open and inviting, manspreading, with his arms crossed over his chest. at any other time, this was completely normal; you’d seen him sit like this many times before. but this time was different. you watched him from in front of the sink, lip tucked between your teeth as you trailed your eyes down to his lap. you tear your head away and focus on finishing the dishes. dirty thoughts about your boyfriend running through your mind still.

you finally finish up the dishes and dry your hands. you begin to make your way into the living room. wetness pooling between your legs as you watch your boyfriend intently. he turns his head to meet your eyes as you make your way over; he smiles at you, and that’s it. you can’t take it anymore. once you make it to the couch, you climb into his lap, head resting on his chest as you pout slightly. his arms wrap around you, holding you close. you sigh slightly. “what’s the matter, baby?” jay asks. and he already knows what’s wrong; he just wants to hear you say it. jays hands travel up to pick your head up of his chest, making your eyes meet his. your eyes are big and glossed over, sending pangs right to his chest . “talk to me, baby, what’s bothering you?” he asks again as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. you really don’t want to say it; you’re embarrassed that you’ve been thinking such dirty thoughts about your boyfriend. “don’t make me say it, please,” you say back to him, your voice shaking slightly as the ache between your thighs becomes stronger. “do you need me, baby?” he finally asks, and you nod shyly, heat filling up your cheeks. “where do you need me?” he cocks his head to the side, one of his hands traveling down to come in between you two. his hand lands on your clothed heat, you gasp slightly. “here?” he says, and you nod, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“mmm, my needy baby, why didn’t you just say so?” he chuckles lightly. “what do you need from me? you want my fingers my mouth, my cock?” he asks. you stare at him with big doe eyes before nervously answering, “f-fingers, please." he smirks at you. “so polite, my good girl,” he coos. words sending shockwaves straight to your core. he brings his hands to the waistband of your shorts, beginning to pull them down. you lean up slightly, making it easier for him to get them off. your underwear comes next, then your shirt, and lastly your bra, until you’re completely bare on his lap. he takes in the sight of you, completely on display for him, practically begging for him to do something. his cock aches at the sight. he kisses your lips, then your cheek, and trails kisses all the way down your neck and to your chest. he gives attention to both of your nipples, licking and sucking slightly, making you moan at the sensation.

he trails a hand back down to your heat, and begins collecting your wetness on his fingers. you shudder at the feeling, letting a whine fall from your lips. “so sensitive already, baby,” jay comments. you roll your head back as jay begins to move his fingers at a faster pace, making sure to circle around your clit more often than not. you’re a moaning mess already, climax building up quicker since you were so needy. he removes his fingers from your clit, bringing them down to circle your dripping hole. he inserts a finger, a loud moan escaping your mouth. he moves his finger slowly at first, then adds in another as he picks up the pace. your head is cloudy as he fucks you with his fingers, your orgasm approaching, jay realizes this when you start clenching around his fingers and your breathing becomes more ragged. he brings his thumb to your clit, paying it attention while his fingers are still buried inside you. this sends you over the edge; your hips bucks, your legs shake, and a string of lewd moans falls from your lips. jay helps you ride your orgasm before removing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. he takes his fingers in his mouth, tasting your juices, before removing them with a pop. “so sweet, my pretty girl,” he coos and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“can i fuck you now? hm?"  he asks, and you nod. “yes, please, jay.” he smiles triumphantly before moving you off his lap to undress himself. you watch every move he makes, lip between your teeth, as you admire your boyfriend's body in front of you. he sits back down, wasting no time to pull you back onto his lap. you feel his length press against your core, causing both of you to moan. his cock is pressed perfectly between your folds, and you start to move back and forth on his cock, wetting it with your juices, and moaning at the feeling. jay winces slightly, “fuck baby, if you keep going like that, i’m gonna cum,” he rolls his head back, and you take the opportunity to place a few kisses on his neck. “someone’s gotten bold now, huh?” he chuckles, and you smile at him, nodding bashfully. “please give it to me, jay” you say, looking so prettily at him. how could he say no?

he lifted up your hips enough to line himself up with your entrance, and you whined at the feeling of his tip pressing against your hole. he slowly guides you down on his cock, the both of you moaning at the feeling. “fuck you’re so tight,” he winces, as he stills himself inside you, letting you get used to the stretch. “so big, jay” you moan, “please move.” he immediately grabs your hips and starts fucking you onto his cock. you cry out at how deep he’s reaching. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself. his fingertips holding your hips so tight you’re sure it’ll leave bruises. his cock is continuously hitting that spongey spot inside, making you cry out his name over and over again.

you feel your stomach start to tighten; you’re getting so close to cumming, and jay can tell. he reaches down in between you and starts rubbing circles on your clit, the stimulation sending you into overdrive as you cum all over his cock, legs shaking and clenching around him. jays thrusts become sloppy as he comes undone, spilling his seed inside you. he pulls out completely to see his cum seeping out of you, he’s got a proud look on his face as he caresses your cheek. “look at the mess we made, baby, so pretty.” he says, your breathing is still ragged from your high, but you lean against him, wrapping your arms around his neck. he caresses the back of your head with his hand, his other arm wrapped snugly around your waist. “you tired, baby? you did so well for me.” he coos; he feels you nod against his chest, too tired to speak.

he sits up from the couch, lifting you with him. you automatically wrap your legs around his waist as you hold on close to him. he brings you into your shared bedroom and then into the bathroom, and sets you down on the counter. you whine when he lets go of you to walk towards the bathtub. “one second, pretty, i’ll be right back,” he says softly. he turns on the bathtub, making sure the water is warm before letting it fill. he comes back over to you while the tub fills, using his hands to massage your legs, and then your back lightly. once the tub is full he picks you back up and places you in the tub. he then climbs in behind you, you sitting in between his legs with your back against his chest. he takes his time cleaning you up, and after he’s done, you turn around and do the same for him.

“i love you, my jay,” you say sweetly.

“i love you too, baby.”

.

.

.

[ozziethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[its-avalon-08]

Hi! Could you please write something where reader and Lando have been together for a while and the hate never got to her until she saw a comment about her using Lando’s money and Lando never had a problem with it. But reader starts using her own money but she doesn’t have a lot of it and one day she misses a call from the bank and Lando answers it and finds out her funds are low and he put it together. Happy needing though where Lando reassures her that he loves her using his money.

what's mine is yours (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - gold digger tweets, money problems, tears, fluff

Lando and Y/N had always had an easygoing relationship. From the moment they met, things just clicked. They’d been inseparable for years, growing through the ups and downs of the racing world together. She was his anchor, and he was her biggest supporter. Despite the scrutiny from the public eye, their relationship was grounded in mutual respect and understanding. Lando always made sure she felt cherished, often indulging her with gifts, fancy dinners, and trips—but none of that ever really mattered to Y/N. She loved Lando, not his lifestyle.

Still, there was always an undercurrent of judgment from certain corners of social media, as there often is for the partners of famous athletes. Y/N had long trained herself to tune out the negative noise. But today was different.

Sitting on the couch while Lando was out at a sponsorship event, she scrolled through Twitter. It had been a typical day, filled with photos of the two of them that fans had posted, some sweet comments and, as usual, some not-so-sweet ones. She should’ve stopped scrolling when she saw a thread discussing her. But instead, her eyes caught on one tweet.

@SpeedyPaddock: "Does Y/N ever spend a single dollar of her own? I swear all I see is Lando footing the bill. She’s just another gold digger… probably why Lando doesn’t mind either, right? He’s got the money to throw around."

Her heart sank. Y/N stared at the screen, feeling her chest tighten. She had never thought of it that way—sure, Lando loved spoiling her, and she’d accepted his generosity because it made him happy. But was she really taking advantage of him?

She shook her head, trying to clear the heaviness settling in her chest. No, Lando would never think that. Yet, the words echoed in her mind, twisting her perception. What if other people thought the same thing? What if they saw her as nothing more than someone who used Lando’s wealth to get by?

I can't do this anymore, she decided. She wasn’t going to be seen that way. From now on, she'd stop using any of Lando’s money. She wouldn’t tell him—it wasn’t his fault, and she didn’t want to burden him with her insecurities.

Y/N sighed, putting her phone away, her mind already racing with ways to distance herself from his lavish spending. This wasn't about them, it was about her.

time skip

The shift was subtle at first. Y/N stopped suggesting they go out to fancy dinners or buy anything extravagant. She even started paying for smaller things—coffee, groceries, or an Uber here and there. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to their favorite restaurants or enjoy the life they’d built together, but she didn’t want to add fuel to the assumptions people were making online. Every time Lando offered to cover something, she’d smile and politely insist on taking care of it herself.

Lando, oblivious to what was going on in her head, didn’t think much of it at first. He’d tease her with a grin, “Trying to outdo me, are you?” And she’d laugh it off, hiding the unease in her heart.

But as the weeks passed, the strain began to show. Y/N wasn’t rich—not by Lando’s standards, not by any stretch. Her savings weren’t endless, and the more she tried to maintain this facade of independence, the more she found herself running low on funds. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up, but the thought of being seen as a "gold digger" kept pushing her forward.

One afternoon, as Lando was lounging on the couch, Y/N’s phone rang. She was out picking up some last-minute groceries, and without thinking, Lando picked it up when he saw the caller ID—her bank.

"Hello, this is Lando. I’m answering for Y/N."

The bank representative, not knowing any different, politely responded, "Hello, sir. We were just calling to inform Ms. Y/L/N that her account balance is quite low, and we’ve noticed a few declined transactions recently. We recommend a transfer or deposit soon to avoid further issues."

Lando’s face dropped, confusion swirling through his mind. "Uh, okay. I’ll let her know. Thank you." He hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, piecing things together.

When Y/N returned home, she found Lando sitting on the edge of the couch, her phone in his hand, a serious expression on his face.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asked, setting the groceries down.

He looked up, his blue eyes soft but concerned. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Y/N froze. She had no idea what he was talking about. "Tell you what?"

"The bank called. They said your account’s low… and that there have been some declined transactions. Y/N, why are you doing this?" His voice was gentle but filled with worry.

Her heart sank. "Lando, I—" She trailed off, not sure how to explain. The tweet flashed in her mind again, and she could feel the walls closing in.

Lando stood up and walked over to her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "Talk to me. Please."

She exhaled slowly, her voice trembling. "I saw a comment a few weeks ago… someone said I was just using your money. That I’m a gold digger and that you don’t care because you can afford it. It got to me, Lando. I didn’t want people to think that I’m only with you for your money. So, I started using my own… but I didn’t realize how fast it would run out."

Lando’s expression softened even more, his brow furrowing as he pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Y/N…"

She buried her face into his chest, feeling the weight of her decision catch up with her. "I didn’t want to tell you because it wasn’t your fault. It’s just stupid people online. But I didn’t want to be seen that way."

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. "Listen to me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re with me because you love me, and I love you. It’s never been about money, and it never will be."

"But—" she started, but he cut her off gently.

"No, but. I want to spoil you. I want to take you to nice places, buy you things, and make you happy. That’s what people do when they love each other. It doesn’t mean you’re using me. You’re not a gold digger, Y/N. You’ve never been." He kissed her forehead softly. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not to me."

Tears welled up in her eyes, not from sadness, but from relief. She’d been carrying this burden for so long, and now, hearing Lando say those words, it felt like the weight had been lifted. "I just didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you."

"I know you, Y/N," he whispered. "You could never do that. I love you, and I love sharing my life with you. That includes my money, okay? We’re a team. Whatever’s mine is yours."

Y/N nodded, tears spilling over as she smiled softly. "I love you too, Lando. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner."

He wiped her tears away with his thumb, smiling back. "Don’t be. Just promise me one thing."

"What?" she asked.

"Promise me you won’t listen to those idiots online. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we have."

Y/N let out a soft laugh. "I promise."

Lando grinned, pulling her into another tight hug. "Good. Now, let’s go out tonight. My treat. And before you say anything, it always will be."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, the tension finally easing between them. "Fine. But I’m picking the place."

"Deal."

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: virgin!sub!Jisung x fangirl!Dom!fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Corruption kink (ish). Blowjob. He's a lil lost in the sauce.

| wc: 5.5k

| aurora's note: shout out to @floresmu3rtas for being my co-conspirator for this one. pt 2 coming soon on her blog hehehee

| part two (written by @floresmu3rtas) // part three

What an odd turn of events the night of your concert took… On the way to the stadium, you and your friends talked about getting burgers after the show to cure your inevitable post-concert depression, and once you were in bed, you’d sit down in pajamas and go through all of the freebies you guys collected. It sounded like fun. After all, you just spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars going to see NCT Dream live for the first time ever, so why wouldn’t you go early to collect freebies, record all the videos possible, then go home and reflect on the fun night with your friends? But on your way out of the show, you were stopped. A security guard came out from behind  the barricade while the crowds slowly shuffled towards the exit, and he approached your friend group directly. He wore all black and a mask to cover his face… It was leagues different from the stadium’s security who wore bright yellow shirts and looked like they wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed instead of having to make sure some idiot fangirls didn’t try to climb onto the stage.

“My boss wants to talk to you,” he said directly to you, unflinching when you were struck with so much confusion that you looked around at your friends for an explanation they couldn’t provide.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked.

“No.”

So, albeit reluctantly, you handed your bag of freebies and your lightstick to your friends before following the man through the hole in the barricade that was covered up by stadium security once you were in, and you were casually led backstage where the staff was working to take down the set in order to transport it to the next tour stop in two days. Every once in a while, the security guard would glance over his shoulder to make sure that you were following him. Of course you were. There were so many staff members running around that you feared getting lost or dragged away in the chaos of it all, so you stuck close to him. When he dove into a side room, you followed. Standing there was a manager you recognized from Twitter posts of the members at airports— He was Jisung’s manager, specifically… And beside him was a woman you didn’t recognize, but she welcomed you with a smile even though the manager and the security guard didn’t.

“Welcome,” she said kindly. Your anxiety was eased by her somewhat. “Sorry for jumping you like this and everything, I know you’re probably confused and a bit scared.” You blushed in response, unsure of what to say. Were you in trouble… Or… “One of our bosses wants to talk to you privately later, but our job is to make sure that you’re okay with talking to him, and that whatever kind of… conversation… happens, that it stays private between the two of you.”

Oh?

She gestured to the manager who put a small stack of papers on the coffee table that sat between you and them. “I’m a lawyer for SM, and this is one of the managers for the group. If you’d like to talk to our boss as much as he’d like to talk to you, we’re here to witness before anything else happens that you sign these papers.”

You stepped forward to find what you already knew in the back of your mind since you were stopped with your friends, yet you refused to admit it until you saw the words “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT” typed at the top of the document. Fuck. Okay… Sure… It was happening… The unrealistic Y/N type of story you read a million times over on the internet somehow graced your reality, and of all people, it seemed that it was Jisung who wanted to “talk” to you… Fuck. Shit. Okay. Fuck.

“You don’t have to sign, if you don’t want to. I want to make that clear,” the lawyer continued.

“No, I’ll sign,” you replied quickly before your thoughts could catch up to your mouth. You blushed at your eagerness. It seemed a bit pathetic to jump at the opportunity so quickly with little to no information from the other three people standing in the room— And why the hell did Jisung want to “talk” to you? What the fuck was going on!

The lawyer smiled and sat on the couch beside the coffee table, and she gestured for you to join her, so you did. The security guard remained at the door, and the manager sat across from you. “All this legal nonsense basically just states that you can’t tell anyone about what happens tonight between you and any of the members of the group and any staff members, including myself. You can’t record audio or visuals of any situation. You can’t post any details on social media. If you break any of these regulations, then the company has the right to sue you for breach of contract, and there’s usually a fine involved. If any kind of pornography were to be recorded and/or distributed, you’ll be sued by the company for breach of contract and distribution of revenge pornography.” She chuckled nervously to mirror your own reaction, then she put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I know it’s overwhelming. Again, you don’t have to sign, and you’re free to leave at any point. And you should know that if anything illegal happens, you do have the right to go to the police, and you won’t be sued for breach of contract. Okay?”

You nodded vaguely.

“We’ll give you a few minutes to read and decide if you still want to sign. After that, if you sign, we’ll take you to see our boss. If you don’t want to sign, that’s alright too, we’ll just help you find a way home, alright?”

You nodded again.

“Okay.”

She gestured to the security guard and the manager who stepped out of the room while she went to a mini fridge in the corner of the room so that she could grab a soda as she scrolled through her phone, pretending not to hover in order to give you space to make your decision. You’d be stupid not to sign, right? If you were ever allowed to tell your friends— Which, obviously the NDA in front of you was airtight, so you wouldn’t be able to, but… If they knew, and if you didn’t sign, they would slap you silly for fucking up the chance to spend time with Jisung. You had to sign. Of course you did. Right? Shit. Reading the document made it scarier because the whole situation was becoming all too real.

Ah, fuck it.

You picked up the pen next to the papers, and you flipped to the last page to sign. The lawyer immediately looked up and pocketed her phone, striding to return to you so that she could collect the signed papers.

“Alright, I’ll have the security guard outside take you to the hotel the boys are staying at. I’m sure you understand that you’ll be led there discreetly, and once you’re there, you can’t tell anyone about what happens. Yes?”

You nodded again. “Yes.”

“If something happens, though, if you need anything, here’s my number.” She handed you her business card. “And don’t forget, you can always say no… And, um… If you need to leave, you can.”

You stared at her. Was it wrong to sell your life away so carelessly like that? She was distributing her warnings like there was prior experience, and you hoped that it had nothing to do with what you were about to confront. Still, your legs carried you to the door where the security guard was standing, and once the manager in the hallway noticed the signed papers, he walked off to go handle something while the security guard turned to lead you through the corridors of the stadium to the backstage garage. There, a black van was waiting with the engine running. The security guard climbed in, and you followed, then another guard closed the van’s door. With two brief thuds on the backside of the car, the driver started off out of the garage.

The drive to the hotel was a silent one. Neither the driver nor the security guard sitting next to you said anything. While you stared out the window, asking yourself what was going to happen, the security guard texted on his phone. You wondered if it was about work, if he was texting the manager or Jisung about where you were, and that you’d signed the NDA, and that you were shaking with anxiety. How many girls had they done this with? How many different girls had Jisung spotted in the crowd, despite the bright stage lights that made it next to impossible to see anything at all 

At the hotel, everything was just as quiet as the car ride, most people already asleep or at least in the comfort of their rooms, save for the one employee at the front desk in the lobby who only greeted you with a smile as you passed by to follow the security guard to the elevator. No one joined you on the way up to the seventh floor. And no one interrupted you as the security card swiped the key to the sixth room and opened the door for you to step inside.

“He’ll be here in about ten minutes.” That was all he said before closing the door on you.

So you waited. Awkwardly. Standing in the middle of the hotel room, the bed a mess from what you assumed had to have been his mid-day nap before the show, his suitcase left open on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed, his toiletries neatly sorted on the bathroom counter. Boredom struck fast, and though you certainly didn’t feel comfortable touching anything, you decided to look around a bit. He used Crest toothpaste, and whitening strips, which shocked you, truth be told. There were a plethora of hair and skin care products that all had Korean labels, so you were unsure what they were all for.

Before you knew it, the front door was opening, and in walked Jisung Park. He hesitated in the doorway, the door still open, the security guard and his manager standing behind him. For a moment, he stared at you in silence. While you were still dressed to the nines for the concert, Jisung was already in a matching set of gray sweats and wearing his glasses instead of contacts. The only remnants from the concert were the sparkly stickers on his cheek and his stage make up.

He turned to whisper something in Korean to the men behind him before he quietly closed the door and stayed with his back turned to you for a minute. You were suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. There he was, an idol, the idol of your favorite group, and yet you couldn’t seem to jump with excitement because of his mundane reaction to having a woman— A fangirl— waiting for him in his hotel room. Were you not what he wanted? Did he mean for one of your other friends to be pulled out of the crowd?

Then, with swift, quick steps, Jisung walked right past you without a second glance. Maybe he was acting so casual because he was used to it, and it was you who was doing something wrong. Were you supposed to be on the bed already? Or waiting on the couch? Were you supposed to look at him or keep your eyes down? Were you supposed to greet him or was the whole exchange meant to be silent? Maybe he just wanted to fuck you then toss you to the side like idols were rumored to do.

Jisung let out a shaky sigh. He turned to you slowly, finally sending a smile in your direction before bowing at the hip and introducing himself in English… As if he needed to explain to you who he was… Only hours prior you’d been screaming his name at the top of your lungs while fighting to get his attention in the sea of other fangirls. Of course you knew who he fucking was, why else would you have signed that NDA? Still, you did the polite thing by introducing yourself briefly and quietly, unsure if he really cared for your name or not.

He stared at you for another moment. “Do you want anything? Water? Soda? Alcohol? I can order room service.”

You shook your head. “I’m alright, thank you.”

And then he stared at you again. “You’re a fan, yes?” He walked to the mini fridge to pull out a soda. You nodded. “Am I your favorite?”

“Yes.”

He blushed down at the can in his hand while he struggled to open it. You noticed then that his hands were shaking and his foot was tapping against the carpet nervously. He looked almost as anxious as you.

“Sorry, I’ve just...  I don’t know what I’m doing. This was a bad idea, I think… Fucking Jeno…”

“Hey, listen, we don’t have to do anything.”

Jisung looked at you suddenly, the panic in his eyes wavering with the little bit of hope provided by your words. “Jjinja?”

“Yeah.”

He exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry about all this.” He set down the soda, abandoning the thought of fighting to open it any longer. “Was, um, was the show fun?”

“My friends and I had a lot of fun. It’s the first time we’ve seen you perform live. Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” His English seemed mildly limited, so he kept his answers brief in order to not embarrass himself, not that you would’ve minded.

Silence lingered again, the two of you unsure of what to do with yourselves. Eventually, Jisung figured it was more comfortable to pass the awkward time by sitting on the couch, his coke defrosting on the table next to him. Did he not like you? Did he not want you? Was he too shy or nice to kick you out? You wished he would just say what was on his mind rather than leave you to fend for yourself, flailing desperately in a situation you had no familiarity with. So in an attempt to figure out what he actually wanted, you poked the bear.

“We could try one thing, if you wanted.”

Like a deer lost in headlights, Jisung continued to stare at you with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Like what?”

“I could give you a blow job.”

He choked on air.

“But if you don’t want to, we can just talk… Or I can leave… Whatever makes you happy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered under his breath, looking down at his fidgeting hands. 

You didn’t really catch what he said. The quiet volume of his scared voice and the broken English made you reconsider if you even heard it at all.

Warily sitting next to him, you pried, “What do you mean?”

Jisung bit his swollen bottom lip. “I’ve never…” And then he rubbed a cool palm on the back of his neck to keep it from turning red with embarrassment, even though it was far too late. “I’ve never, um… Done that.”

For a moment, you wondered if there was a language barrier blocking you from understanding what he really meant. Then he looked at you with those wide, innocent eyes, and you knew the truth. He really hadn’t… Not even a blowjob? Or fingering a girl? Was that why he was so shy with  you— Not because you were a fan in his hotel room? You couldn’t help but laugh with relief. Jisung’s face fell and his body slumped with defeat.

“I’m not laughing at you!” you promised through one last giggle. “I thought you just didn’t like me or something.”

He panicked. “No, no! I think you’re really pretty…” He smiled through a blush that made him avert his gaze once more. “Jjinja… Geundae…” The cogs in his brain were working to find the right words in English. “I am… embarrassed… I don’t know what to do.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

That made him appear more self-conscious.

“I could teach you.”

It looked like he was about to pass out when you said that, endless possibilities forming behind his eyes that were slowly glazing over with lust. His eyes were so cute. When he looked like he was silently pleading for you to do just that, because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words confidently, you just about swooned thanks to the cuteness aggression twisting in your stomach. It was a wonder how a guy like him was a virgin with no experience. Since he was an idol, you just assumed off the bat, and because of the lawyer’s concerning warnings at the stadium, that he’d pulled aside plenty of girls and fucked them into different hotel mattresses then had them escorted out once he was done. But no. It sounded like maybe some of the others were used to that, but not Jisung. His bouncing leg and fidgeting hands over his lap directed your attention down to the erection growing in his sweatpants. Was he really that worked up just at the thought of having a fan blow him off? He should’ve just said so the second he walked through the front door instead of making you think he was regretting asking for you.

Still, you triple checked for consent before daring to touch him. “Do you want to?” It was as simple as you could make the question for him.

“Ne— Yes! Yes…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Finally, with a smile, you inched closer to him on the couch, his body tensing up slightly in response, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop you. You stared at his lips while he stared at your tits. Obviously you’d worn something revealing in the hopes of getting your silly Y/N moment, but it was a pipe dream at the time, and now it was your reality.

“Here.” You took one of his shaky hands from his lap and lifted it to your breasts, guiding him to press his palm over one of them. He let out a shaky breath that made you feel the warmth on the tip of your nose. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” He nodded quickly. “When?”

“In high school… And once at the company… And… on New Year's Eve.”

He remembered all of his kisses? Adorable.

“Kiss me, then.”

Jisung hesitated, his breath still hot on your nose; But with a light squeeze around your covered boob, he leaned in and pressed his plump lips against yours. That was all he did. He pecked you, but he didn’t put effort into making out with you, with or without tongue. Maybe that was all those silly kisses in the past had been. So instead of interrogating him more, you took the lead, showing him how to do it properly by tilting your head the other way then sticking your tongue into his mouth. Jisung moaned followed by another squeeze that made you mewl in response.

It took him a bit to learn. The noticeable hesitancy in his kisses and touches indicated that he was worried about scaring you off at any moment, but you tried your best to encourage him by leaning more into him and squeezing your hand over his so that he would massage your breasts more. Of his own volition, his other hand went to your chest as well. You grinned against his lips before drifting to kiss his sharp jawline that all your friends fawned over in group chats, then you left a trail of kisses down to his neck. You knew that you couldn’t leave any marks. As fun as it would be to leave a hickey there to let the rest of the world know that you were the first person who ever got him off, it would be more of a hassle to cover it with makeup and hide it until the bruising subsided than it was worse. She’d probably get yelled at by his manager or the group’s lawyer. So you refrained from doing everything you wanted…

Instead, you left gentle, fluttering kisses that made Jisung moan up into the still hotel air. He was so sensitive. Had no one kissed the rest of his body before? Had it only been his lips? Surely whoever it was at the company that kissed him— Perhaps another idol— or whichever lucky dunk girl kissed him on New Years thought to kiss his neck and collarbones. How could they not? His skin was so perfect, and the contrast between his natural skin tone and the makeup he was wearing made your head spin. You thought about what he would look like bare faced… Unfortunate that you would never get to see it up close. The best you were ever going to get was him in sweats and stage make up, his erection in full throttle in his pants.

Your hand moved from your own lap to his knee, causing Jisung to jolt slightly and whimper. You turned to kiss the other side of his neck. Jisung’s thumbs tried to stimulate your nipples over your clothes, but there was simply too much fabric in the way, so he whined again and went back to massaging them. However, his movements came to a standstill when you ran your splayed left hand up his thigh before settling directly over his hard-on.

“Ssibal,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your free hand grabbed his chin. “Look at me.” So he did, his eyes glossed over with so much pleasure that he couldn’t open them all the way. When you palmed him briefly, Jisung let out a gasp and hunched forward slightly, his eyes really struggling to stay open for you now. “Does it feel good?”

“Ne.”

As your hand found the drawstring of his sweatpants, you released his chin so that you could slide off the couch and fall to your knees, multitasking between undoing his pants and crawling between his legs that he spread in order to accommodate you while he leaned back against the couch. Jisung watched you studiously. You could tell that behind those glasses of his, he was trying to memorize every detail of you and what you were doing for his spank-bank. The way you looked up at him through your lashes while you expertly untied his pants and helped him lift his hips so that you could pull his sweats down to his ankles. The way you teased him over his boxers for a minute just to get a visceral reaction out of him that made you giggle. The way you took off his underwear so easily. And, of course, what that first touch around his cock felt like.

Jisung’s hands balled into fists around the hem of his sweatshirt. “Fuck—” When your thumb ran over his tip, he shivered and squeezed his thighs together. “Fuck—“

You grinned. Poor thing already couldn’t tell left from right or up from down. Perhaps you could remind him by slowly pumping your fist up and down his length. Jisung wasn’t exactly what you expected. In all the fanfics you’d read about him, and all the times you speculated with friends, you never really stopped to imagine anything beyond his length. People liked to say he had a big cock. He did. Though, much of it had to do with said length you always theorized over, while his girth was just enough to fit in your hand that was wrapped around it. His tip was a dark shade somewhere between brown and pink, and the rest of him was dark and veiny… like his shaking hands. 

“You can touch me,” you told him.

His hands remained clasped around the fabric of his sweatshirt. You saw a bit of hesitancy, a twitch like he wanted to touch you, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for whatever reason, so you continued what you were doing, jerking him off slowly until you saw precum seeping out of his tip. You grinned before licking it up suddenly. Jisung groaned and jerked again, his hands reaching to touch you before they retreated to his sweatshirt again. You watched him through your lashes as you replaced your fist with your mouth wrapped around his tip, your cheeks hollowing before you sunk down. His body couldn’t keep still. Even though you were trapped between his knees, his legs were desperately trying to close in around your shoulders, and his feet were tapping against the carpet at the same fast pace that his long, veiny fingers were fiddling with his sweatshirt.

As you came up for air, your hand pumped him slowly, and you asked with a grin, “Is this okay?”

He nodded desperately. “Please don’t stop.”

You obliged his pathetic plea, your mouth sinking back down, taking in his entire length until your nose bumped his shaved pubic bone. He whimpered like a wounded puppy, but his hips bucked up gently to encourage you to keep going. So you did. You found a steady rhythm switching between sucking him off and jerking him off, making sure to swallow every bit of sticky pre-cum he leaked into your mouth. He was covered in drool, but he didn’t seem to mind since it provided more lubrication for you to go faster and faster, prying the cutest, most pitiful moans you had ever heard in your entire life. Honestly, by the looks and sounds coming from him, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Virgins. They were always the most sensitive and eager to cum quickly.

“Gidarida— Ssibal, I’m cumming, fuck—”

There it was.

Jisung bit his lip and bucked up into your mouth while holding your head down. With his strong hold on you, all you could really do was use your tongue to rub against his cock while he rode out his orgasm. The amount of cum that filled your mouth was slightly surprising— You tried your best to swallow, but you were running out of air, until he finally released you, giving you a chance to lift up and breathe before cleaning up the mess dripping down his length. He slumped with an exhausted grunt.

After catching his breath for a moment, he opened his eyes to look down at you while you were wiping your lips with your thumb. “Are you okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Sorry if I… Um… If you couldn’t breathe…”

You laughed out loud. “I’m fine, I promise. Did it feel good?”

Jisung blushed a bright color of red while nodding. He lifted his hips so that he could put his pants back on before raising his hood over his shaggy black hair.

When he noticed you moving to stand on your feet, Jisung leaned forward to offer his hands for you, which you gladly took, using his strength and leverage to push yourself up; However, once you were up, Jisung didn’t move you to the couch like you wanted, nor did he start leading you towards the front door like you half expected. No, Jisung acted like a gentleman, leading you to the bed where he had you sit down comfortably.

“I have some clean clothes you can wear if you want to be more comfortable,” he offered shyly.

Now it was your turn to stare like a deer lost in headlights. Why was he offering his clothes to you? How could he offer up something like that so freely— Then again, maybe wearing his clothes was more tame than sucking him off after only just meeting him for the first time.

“Sure.”

Jisung turned to his suitcase on the luggage rack and he began digging around for some clothes.

“And I’ll take you up on that water now,” you croaked.

Jisung nodded obediently, rushing to the mini fridge to grab a bottle before handing it to you then going back to looking for clothes. He ended up retrieving one of the merch shirts available at the stadium earlier— One that you actually bought despite your achingly empty wallet— and a pair of gray sweats eerily similar to his. After handing the clothes to you, he whispered something about going to wash his face in the bathroom in the meantime. You watched as Jisung timidly scurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, either for his privacy or his own, you weren't too sure, and then you heard the sink running. For a good thirty seconds, you were paralyzed on the bed, holding his clothes in your hands, staring at the couch you’d just given him a blowjob on. Jisung Park had only kissed four people in his lifetime, and  you were one of them. Even worse, you were the first and only person to ever suck him off… The first and only person to ever make him cum… What the fuck…

You forced yourself out of your trance of disbelief so that you could change before he was done. You folded your own clothes neatly since you’d probably have to wear them out of the hotel later, but you kept your underwear and bra on for safety purposes. Besides, it was his clothes you were wearing, you felt too awkward to go completely naked underneath. And as you were taking down your hair, you heard the water shut off followed by Jisung asking if he could come out. When you told him it was safe, the door reopened and he stepped out.

He gulped when he saw you. “You really are very pretty.”

To hide your blush, you drank from the water bottle he gave you. Jisung moved across the hotel room, initiating the next segment of the night where he laid on his side in the messy bed, leaving plenty of space for you while he watched you anticipatingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck.”

“I don’t,” he said with the most amount of confidence you’d heard from him all night, even in comparison to when he was on stage. “I just don’t want you to leave yet. Is that okay?”

The way you easily slid into bed, setting the water bottle down on the bedside table, was enough of an answer, but you still entertained him with a quiet, “That’s okay.”

Jisung shifted as you both worked to pull the covers up your torsos to keep warm. “I was going to wear that shirt for sound check tomorrow,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. “It was the only clean one I had left.” You panicked, immediately sitting up to take it off while apologizing for being an inconvenience, but Jisung reached out to stop you. Both of you paused with his hands on your wrists. “It’s okay. I like seeing you wear it better.”

You looked away from him due to your own self-consciousness as you laid back down with him.

Both of you settled in the bed comfortably, his elbow propped on his pillow so that his hand could hold up his head while he stared at you. Part of you was too overwhelmed to look at him. Mere hours ago you’d been cheering at his concert as a stranger, and now he knew your name, and you’d sucked his cock. You weren’t really strangers anymore. But you weren’t friends or something other than that either. You were just an awkward one night stand that he would remember as “that one time in a hotel on tour” the next time some lucky girl would ask for his history before taking his virginity. Whoever she would be, she was damn lucky, and she didn’t even know it yet… It was a shame it couldn’t be you, honestly. Not because he was an idol you loved, but because he was so adorable, and hot, and well-equiped to fuck you. The idea of teaching him everything there was to know about fucking a girl, corrupting his innocent, bashful mind made you wet, but you had to clench your legs shut to make sure he wouldn’t find out or get suspicious after you’d change out of his clothes. Whenever that would be. Did he expect you to stay the night? Why else would he give you his clothes? What would the morning look like? What would everything after the morning look like?

“Have you ever thought about visiting Korea?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t have money like that though. Not yet, at least. Maybe one day I can go— I always wanted to see a concert there.” You giggled at the thought.

Jisung smiled back at you, his hand falling out from under him so that his cheek could hit the pillow while he continued to stare. He didn’t say anything else. You waited for him to instigate another conversation, and you wished that you could think of something to talk to him about aside from idol life or his personal life. You weren’t sure what was appropriate. But by the time you decided to ask him if he had any pets, Jisung was sound asleep next to you, a content smile still plastered to his face. You smirked and brushed his bangs out of his face.

[sun-e-chips]

Wait…

Do the boys fluster easy? Like if y/n ever grew a backbone and said literally anything-

Like the smallest thing or like, taped a flower to suns rays or moons headdress (does it have a specific name please tell me if it does) how would the boys react?

I get a break because of the storm so I’m digging into my inbox! >:D

Great question! I would say yes to the boys flustering easy but they fluster differently if that makes sense.

Moon: Moon I would say flusters the easiest. Though he handles “flirts” from guests with ease, (giving a witty/charming one-liner to keep it professional and lighthearted) he knows it’s part of the job and nothing is serious, but if y/n did or said anything flirtatious to Moon he would freeze up XD

With guests this usually happens during luau’s between when he’s performing or working the bar. Moon realizes guests are just enjoying themselves and mean nothing inappropriate when they’re having fun with flirtatious banter, it’s part of his job to be engaging and pleasant so he doesn’t really mind. That’s why y/n showing any affectionate interest in him would come as such a shock, he never thought about someone being genuinely interested in him that way. Poor guy needs some time to adjust.

Sun: Now Sun is an oddball to me, I’m still trying to understand him and his emotions myself haha. Sun REALLY blurs the lines between platonic and romantic affection, he is in general a very loving guy. With guests personal space is a foreign concept to him, of course he is still very professional and can judge an appropriate situation/person, but he just has a talent for being able to connect with guests so their comfortable with his playful antics. With Y/N however his actions areeeeee a mixed bag I guess, (think of it like a magic fruit basket, Sun is giving you a variety of fruits in one package, if you choose to only take out oranges then it’s an orange basket, if you want to take out apples and oranges then it’s an apple and oranges basket, pick out whichever you like it’s all there but you don’t have to accept anything you don’t like, he’s letting you decide what you want your basket to be made up of) weird analogy I know but it’s what I thought of

Anywhoo for Sun to catch on that an act is flirtatious it has to be clear or at least catch him off guard! Little note here, Suns pupils disappear when he’s flustered from y/n. It’s a lil scary at first, in the illustrated instance this is the first time of this happening and it may be mistaken as Sun freezing but he was very much there and would have returned the gesture if not for the pool noodle -whack- lol

[greenconverses]

As I've mentioned a few times times, one of the actual interesting things Riordan is doing in this new series is mentioning Percy's obvious rage issues and then not actually doing anything with it other than making Percy swallow the anger down so he stays Nice and Controlled at all times.

Which, if we were dealing with pre-Disney+ show deal RR, could be a great character arc over the course of the series where Percy learns to actually deal with his anger and trauma while he's actively being triggered by petty godly bullshit. But Wrath made it pretty clear he's okay with letting Percy eat shit emotionally as long as everyone is one big happy team in the end and we're Therapy Speaking ourselves into the sunset, so I don't think that's happening.

Wrath sets up a conflict between Grover and Percy that's pretty simple: Grover eats a magical thing he's specifically told not eat and causes chaos that puts Percy's quest at risk. Reminder, these stupid quests are so Percy can get into college and Grover knows this. Percy gets angry at Grover; so angry Annabeth can see it and shoos him out of the room so he doesn't explode. And then he just... tries to stop being angry, assumes Grover means well, and carries on pretending it's not Grover's fault while being resentful because it's totally Grover's fucking fault.

Eventually, we get a scene where Grover attempts to make things right by putting himself into danger and Percy freaks out because, duh, he doesn't want his friends to get hurt. Grover then attempts to apologize by admitting he maybe sorta kinda subconsciously wanted to sabotage things. And it's here where we run in to trouble.

Please notice that Percy immediately tries to reassure him that he's not responsible despite Grover acknowledging it. Then we get the good ol' Grover tears and looking like a poor bullied baby before he confesses to sabotaging his best friend's quest because he doesn't want to be left behind. And with that, all of Percy's anger is gone because how can you be mad at your friend for that?

Uh, pretty fucking easy, especially if my idiot satyr friend knows exactly what the consequences of failing the quest is (forget the college letters; Percy is under the assumption that Hecate will unmake him if he fucks up) AND said idiot frequently has gone MONTHS without seeing me because of his job and, in fact, several months from now will be halfway across the country anyway helping Apollo with some different quest bullshit!!!!

I digress.

Suddenly, Percy is the bad guy for being mad at Grover. And this continues with the next part of the conversation.

How hard it's been on him?????

Percy Jackson, you are constantly blowing literal gaskets because of the stress you are under, and you're worried about how hard college applications has been on GROVER???????

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

like

are you kidding me here rick

are you FUCKING kidding me

PERCY needs to APOLOGIZE to GROVER for PRIORITIZING COLLEGE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

And then Grover makes a joke about Percy's shitty gpa because dunking on Percy in an emotional conversation is totally fine because his emotions don't actually matter to any of his friends. He'll get over it! He's Percy, duh. He's not a ticking time bomb of resentment full of grudges whatsoever.

I think we're supposed to see this as Percy maturing and being forgiving, but is he? He doesn't tell Grover he forgives him. Percy's the one apologizing in the end because he's been guilted into feeling bad that Grover is sad/upset and put himself in danger. The conflict doesn't actually get resolved because Percy brushes it aside; it doesn't matter any more because Grover is sad and must be reassured. No one's going to learn anything from this because there have been no consequences. Grover's gonna do some dumb shit again, Percy's gonna get mad at him, Grover will cry and make up a sad sack excuse, and Percy will stop being angry because Grover's his bestie and what else is he supposed to do?

(This could be a good character arc about how Percy's fatal flaw makes him have a really messed up view of friendships and the meaning of loyalty, but again, we will be denied.)

And for the record, just because your friends have compelling reasons for their shitty actions doesn't make them any less shitty. It doesn't mean they shouldn't apologize for their fuck ups or negate the hurt they caused you. Forgiveness needs to be earned, not manipulated out of you through tears and reckless actions.

Grover can get fucked. I hate this fucking character.

[cloudzoro]

Star | Dracule Mihawk ♡

one piece materlist | mihawk masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Not a star in the sky could compare to you”, He groans as he guides his cock to your entrance. His words get caught in his throat as he pushes inside you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni), fluff? it's very romantic smut

wc: 2.3k

pairings: mihawk x reader

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, oral, mirror sex, praise, so much praise, squirting

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You finish putting in your earrings and step back, examining yourself in the bathroom mirror. You have a vanity that your husband built for you, but he was currently getting ready in your bedroom, and you wanted to surprise him. You had bought a new dress and didn't want your Husband, Dracule Mihawk, to see it until you were ready. You know you look good, smiling at your reflection. You think now is a good time to show your Husband the absolute stunner of a dress you've chosen. Maybe he'll like it so much he'll be too distracted to take you to this boring dinner. You grab your necklace from the bathroom counter, a subtle but gorgeous piece he'd gifted you on your first anniversary.

“Mihawk?” You call from the other side of the door. You crack open the door to see he's turned away from you, assessing his own formal outfit in the mirror.

“Yes, Darling?” he says, turning to meet your eye. He's quiet when he first lays his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe. There's a faint smile on his lips, one that's reserved for you, as he wordlessly takes the necklace from your outstretched hand. You stand between him and the mirror, watching his reflection as he delicately clasps the necklace.

Mihawk wraps his arms around you from behind, hands roaming over your waist and hips. He kisses the left side of your neck, pressing his tongue against the skin. His lips trail across your shoulder and over the sleeve of the dress, all the way to your left hand, where he presses the most delicate of kisses to your wedding ring.

“You look gorgeous, y/n”, he compliments, turning you in his arms so he can peck your lips. “so beautiful”. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face when he speaks to you like this.

“You look handsome,” you say now that you're able to get a proper look at him in his suit, though it's not too dissimilar from his everyday attire. He rolls his eyes; despite all the years you've been married, he's still unable to take a compliment.

“Thank you, Darling,” he says, trying to brush your compliment off. “ But I fear bringing you around the guild may be dangerous when you look the way you do. Especially Crocodile and that stupid clown.”

“Then don't.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don't take me to dinner”, you say, matter of factly. Your hand reaches up to unbutton his shirt, and he lets out an amused huff once he realises your intentions.

“And what do you suggest I do instead?” he says, eyes not leaving yours as he waits for you to tell him what he wants to hear.

“You can lay me down right here and fuck my brains out.” Your words are sharp and clear as they hit his ears. He knows you're referring to the bed by' right here', but he has slightly different plans.

“I still would like to take you dancing, though, my dear”, he says, starting up an old record that blares throughout your room. He pulls you impossibly close, one hand placed low on your waist and the other holding your hand. He slowly starts to sway the two of you.

The dance is intimate and full of passion - as your private moments with your husband typically are. Mihawk is actually quite fond of dancing, having learnt it when he was young; it's one of his favourite pastimes to partake in with you. The way he's holding you has his leg pressed between your legs, and he opts for a dance style much more sensual than a traditional waltz. Dancing is such a simple act, yet it inspires Mihawk.

He admires the grace with which you move as he leans down to whisper filthy things in your ear. He's teasing you, pulling you close to him and riling you up until you're tearful and desperate for some kind of contact. He takes a step back to guide you into a spin and then back against his chest. He kisses your shoulder, light as a feather, and compliments your dance skills.

You're sick of the teasing now, so you turn in Mihawk's arms to face him again and pull him into an aggressive kiss, which He returns with equal force. Your Husband might bend to your every whim, but he is still a feared man throughout the world, and you're reminded of this when his grip tightens on your waist, and he lets out a terrifying growl against your lips. He pulls away from the kiss, chuckling at the way you try to chase his lips. His strength and power are attractive to you, and the force with which he holds you in place has you melting in his arms. He just stands there, keeping you until you start to whine about the sudden lack of affection.

“Oh, you're not enjoying our dance anymore?”

“Of course I am, but I need you so bad.”

“Need me to do what?” he asks, still holding you. He knows precisely what you want but wants to hear you say it. Mihawk is proud and secure, but he still likes to hear how badly you need him. You struggle momentarily in his arms, frustrated by his lack of action. Your frustration is amusing to your Husband, who smirks at you until he finally gets what he wants.

“Need you to make me cum. Please. I want you to fuck me,” You say, there's a slight wobble of need in your voice, and Mihawk eats it up. He offers you a genuine smile, one that you see more often than others assume, and guides you over to the vanity, turning you around so you can see yourself in it. His touch is delicate as he tilts your chin up so you can look at your own face.

“Keep your eyes on your reflection, I want you to see how gorgeous you look when I make you cum”, he says. In an act that would shake the world if anyone were to see it, Dracule Mihawk drops to his knees. Being able to bring a man as respected and feared as Mihawk down beneath you makes you feel like the most powerful woman on the globe.

He bunches the skirt of your dress up to your hips. He holds the skirt with one hand as he tears your underwear down your legs so he can get at your pussy. He leans forward, skipping any warm-up, and goes straight to burying his tongue in your hole. He licks at your walls as you moan his name. Mihawk listens for every gasp and little noise that leaves your lips, committing them to memory. He drops the skirt, allowing it to cover him, and uses a hand to rub your neglected clit. He seems dead set on making you cum as quickly as possible.

You're doing as your Husband asked, keeping your eyes open and on the reflection before you. His tongue is driving you closer and closer to the edge. Mihawk has told you several times that his favourite positions are ones where he can clearly see your face, and now you're starting to see why. This is the most at home you've ever seen yourself, you're basically glowing. You're hot and bothered and oh so desperate to cum, but you're happy and satisfied. The slurping noises from beneath you insinuate that Mihawk feels the same way.

A few more well-placed flicks of his tongue have your legs shaking and your orgasm washing over you. Your first orgasm is energising, it leaves you with all of your nerves alight and sensitive but eager for your Husband's touch. He pulls away, letting your dress fall behind you and stands up. He's pleased that you listened to him and watched yourself.

He orders you to keep your eyes on the mirror for a little longer to let him appreciate the dress a little longer. You obey, soaking up the praise he showers you with.

When he grows impatient, done with ghosting kisses over your neck, he helps you unzip the dress. He delicately pulls the dress down, offering a hand to steady you as you step out of the garment. He lays it over the ottoman so that you can hang it back up when you're finished and then returns his attention to you.

He kisses you, his usual intensity ever present as he walks you over to the bed. He pushes you gently, not enough to cause you harm, and you follow along. You lay on the bed, leaning on your elbows to watch as he slowly removes his clothes.

Watching Mihawk strip for you is like watching a god show vulnerability. You feel special knowing you're the only one who gets to see him like this. You're so busy appreciating the new exposed skin that you barely register that he's talking dirty to you. Mihawk stalks towards you like a panther, kneeling on the bed and crawling over so he's hovering on top of you.

“My pretty girl” he hums, taking your nipple into his mouth and squeezing your other boob. He shows some love to your chest, kissing across it to take your other nipple into his mouth. He could go on like this for hours, kissing over your body, leaving marks and praises as he goes. You squirm beneath him, his intensity suffocating you. “If you want me to give you more, you're going to have to help me out first”, he says, rolling so that he's beneath you now. He guides you down to his cock, and you take it into your mouth as far as you can without gagging.

You hold your head still, encouraging him to move his hips. You let his taste settle in your mouth as you tongue over the veins on his cock. He's happy to place his hand on the back of your head and gently thrust into your wet mouth. He's careful not to go too far, though you wouldn't mind if he got a little rougher with you. Mihawk moans as you swallow around him, encouraging you to repeat the action. The next flick on your tongue against his cock has him pulling you off him. You look so good, staring up at him with hazy eyes and a drooling, open mouth, that he almost cums just looking at you.

Mihawk is happy to praise and talk you through sex, but when it comes to receiving, he's very reserved. The sighs and moans you do manage to pull from him with your tongue have pride rising to the surface of your skin. The low whimper he gives you as you lick at his tip is pretty enough to have you releasing moans of your own around him.

“I wanna cum inside you”, he states, pulling you up for another kiss. You nod into the kiss, and he flips you over, so now you're beneath him once again. Mihawk sits back on his heels, admiring your body. “You look beautiful in that dress, but Darling, you are breathtaking without it”, he says, running calloused fingers along the plush of your thighs.

“Not a star in the sky could compare to you”, He groans as he guides his cock to your entrance. His words get caught in his throat as he pushes inside you. He takes in the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock, the feeling makes his brain go fuzzy. He's cursed you out jokingly, of course, for the way your body shuts off his brain, but it's different seeing it in action. His gaze darkens, and his breaths come out in sharp growls. You flinch as his teeth graze your neck when he leaves a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss there. It would be so easy for him to sink his teeth into your vulnerable skin, and it wouldn't be the first time he's done so. You've seen his aggression on the battlefield; this is a different beast you're facing.

Mihawks thrusts start heavy; there's no build-up of strength. He reaches places you never thought possible and angles your hips so he can have you kicking your feet at the intense pleasure. He's an expert in the field of your body, years of experimental research have led him to be able to have you soak the sheets in minutes. He knows exactly where to aim his thrusts to have you gushing. He grinds himself inside of you between thrusts, complimenting you through gritted teeth as he tries to keep his sounds of euphoria to himself. One of his skilled hands reaches down to play with your clit. Mihawks movements are practised and deliberate, an inherited skill gained from being your husband.

“Play with those beautiful tits for me”, he instructs, keeping his hawk eyes glued to your chest. He watches as you obey him, squeezing your tits and playing with your tits. The sensations are all-consuming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm. You're overwhelmed and unable to tell him you're about to cum. You don't need to tell him, he knows. From the rapid spasming of your pretty pussy to your incoherent whimpers, he can read you like a book. “Go ahead, sweet girl. Make a mess for me”

Your legs shake, and your torso tenses as you cry out your husband's name. Your release feels white-hot beneath your skin, and you can barely register the way you're gushing all over your husband's abdomen. Mihawk is unbothered by the mess, in fact, he encourages it. His orgasm follows closely behind as he fills you with his hot cum. When you've both come down from your highs, chest heaving and lazy smiles reserved only for one another to see, he peels himself off of you to assess the damages to the sheets.

“We may have to sleep in the guest bed tonight while the mattress dries,” he says. “For now, though, let's get you to the shower”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.5)

★ Word Count: 3.9k

★ Content: Miguel is so smitten, it's serious. You two also go on a few more dates. The topic of the nature of your relationship comes up. Dana appears...again...

★ A/N: Hey, hey sorry this chapter took so long to come out. And is short! But I wanted to make sure I put this out before I start Kinktober. So enjoy!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the date last night.

Even as he mindlessly scanned the row of paint cans, looking at his phone for the exact color his mother wanted. Eggshell white and Bahama blue. Yet, he was seeing none of those colors.

It didn't help that his mind kept lingering on you. Reminding himself about how pretty you looked last night. Your beautiful body hugging that dress. How soft you were when you kissed, taking in your full lips to sear it into his memory. It took Miguel almost a hour to convince himself to remove the trace of lipstick from his lips when he settled down last night.

He missed you. He wanted to see you again.

It was clear you did too when you sent him a voice message this morning, saying those words after the usual good morning. Your voice low as if you just woke up, but still sounding just as beautiful.

Miguel needed to focus. His mother wouldn't tolerate him messing around in the store, especially since the exact colors he was looking for were in front of his face the whole time.

He couldn't help but be grateful to his mother for giving him something to do. Otherwise, Miguel would be lying in bed thinking about you all day. He needed you to occupy his space day and night. Be close to you. Touch you.

It gets so bad he wonders what it would be like if you helped him shop.

Would you be able to tell the difference between the paint colors his mom wanted? Would you start looking at colors yourself to prepare for your house? Miguel would be on board to help you, making sure you don’t carry anything heavy. He didn’t want your nails to break. He’s sure you’d wear something on the verge of cute and comfortable during the shopping trip. And he’d try not to stare while he was picking out paintbrushes.

Miguel had to do another date with you soon, or else he’d do something drastic.

He dropped off the materials his mother needed, not wanting to be there longer than he had to. Miguel didn’t want to get into the reason why she was fixing up the house. He caulked it up as her wanting not to mourn for her abusive husband.

Conchata checked off the list as Miguel brought the items inside the house. He wasn’t listening when his phone vibrated. He wondered if it was you. He hoped it was you.

“What's going on with you?”

He freezes when placing the paint cans by the wall in the house.

“What? Nothing.”

“I could've sworn I saw you walk faster.”

“No, I didn't.” Miguel glances at all the materials, paint, caulk to patch up the walls, some roller brushes, etc. Enough to start the home improvement process. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.”

His eyes land on the tarp on the floor, “You’re not planning to do all of this by yourself, right?”

“I’m not. I hired some people to do it for me. All I have to do is push them around.”

Miguel tries not to shake his head when she holds up swatches along the wall. “Call me if you need anything else.”

He gave her a gentle kiss against her head before taking his leave. When he did so, he checked his phone and felt disappointed when it was just a notification reminding him of the time he went to the museum with Dana. The picture showed both of them at a high-end event, with neutral smiles and dressed up.

When he dated Dana, there was a vast difference between you and her.

Although the incident with her wasn't fresh in his mind anymore, he still remembered what it was like being with her. When they were engaged, everything was relaxed and quiet despite them taking the next steps in their lives.

You were the opposite.

Not chaotic, but ecstatic about the newfound relationship status.

You'd send him messages while Miguel was at work, telling him to have a good day with a swarm of emojis. You'd send him more voice messages, which're filled with various topics. About your own day, what you saw while browsing social media, and he'd listen. You reciprocated too when inviting him to talk about his interests and his day.

Dana hardly did any of that. She'd settle on a good morning before not getting into much detail about her day. Almost bored about the topic. Her eyes were on the verge of disinterest whenever Miguel had a chance to talk about himself.

Then there were the dates.

Dana was more fond of high-end luxuries like five-star restaurants, museums, and theaters. The more expensive, the better. Miguel didn’t have problems with it; he was known to indulge in those pleasantries from time to time. But with you, it was the opposite.

The two of you went to the mall.

You insisted that hanging out for a few hours and window shop would be fun. Miguel figured you'd want to go into one of the luxury stores to browse. Only for you to hardly go into any of them.

He watches you point at a cute handbag on display or dazzling shoes that would fit with your aesthetic at the club. So imagine his surprise when you walk away to look at something else instead of buying it.

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do…” Your eyes skim across more pretty shoes, “But I don't need them.”

“You want them though.” You shrug, and he steps into your line of sight. “I can buy them for you.”

“No, don't do that. I'm good.”

You try to get out of the shoe aisle, but Miguel blocks your path. “I want to. I'm your boyfriend. I want to give you nice things.”

“Did you not see the price tag?” You return to the shoes and pick them up, the price of almost two hundred dollars. “I've rarely bought shoes for that price.”

“I got it.” Miguel takes the shoes, but you hold them close to your chest.

“Hold up. If you buy something for me, I'll buy something for you.”

“I don't need anything.” He tries to take your shoes again, but you turn away.

“You don't have to need anything. But if there's something you want, I'll get it.”

“No, really I'm good-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer, baby.”

Miguel sucks his teeth before agreeing with your proposal. You squeal, more excited to continue your trek around the mall, your new goal being to buy him something he wants.

Dana hardly offered to buy him anything the whole time they were together. She did go out of her away to buy him things, mainly chains or designer watches, but that's for his birthday or Christmas. Not during a random day of the week.

You pointed out multiple stores that fits Miguel’s aesthetic. He decided to go into one that had button down shirts he liked to wear for work. As he browsed through the shirt racks, eyes were on him. Yours were following his movements, ready to grab a shirt that caught his eye.

“How's this?” Miguel holds up a powder blue shirt and you inspect it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's get it!”

He can finally relax when satisfying you with his choice, but you notice the tag. “Wait, it's only thirty bucks.”

Miguel also glances at it, “Oh, is that too much? I can get something else-”

“Miguel.” You give him a look, “First off, don't insult me like that again. Secondly, you just spent two hundred dollars on me, which is not the same.”

“Oh.” He looks at the shirt and then back at you. “So, I can get a few more?”

“Yeah, you can.”

Miguel puts more effort into his search. He gets a few more shirts, but the total is still less than what he spent on you. You don't say anything as he thanks you with a bright smile.

Taking a quick break by eating at the food court, Miguel's phone vibrates from Gabriel's message. Without completely looking at it yet, his eyes roll at knowing what the message was going to say, asking the daily question of when he was going to meet you. Sure, it's been two months since he started dating you, but he didn't want to rush you.

Miguel tried to hide his disdain by so much as you were feeding him macaroons. His lips grazing your fingers while taking a bite. Your thumb wiping off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Your eyes connecting and you shoot him a wink, the action shooting down to his lower body. He gets a strong urge to pull you back to the car so he can kiss you all over.

He groans when the phone vibrates against the table again.

“Is there a fire somewhere?”

“The fire being my brother. He keeps texting me about wanting to meet you. I keep telling him it depends on when you want to.”

You take a sip from your Boba tea before outstretching your hand. “Gimme.”

As Miguel places his phone in your palm, you casually press video call.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm saying hi to your brother.” You hold up the phone, making sure you were decent for the camera. When the call connects, you flash the biggest smile on the planet. “Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi? Uh, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

You purse your lips, “He’s munching on some macaroons. Say hi, Miguel.” You briefly turn the phone to Miguel, making him wave before turning the phone back to you.

“Oh. My. God. You're who my brother is dating? Do you know how many times I've been asking to meet you?”

Too many times.

“A lot. It's okay though I've been wanting to meet you too. You're the main one blowing up his phone.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it-Hey, babe!” Gabriel shouts through the phone, making you and Miguel snort. “Come here real quick and meet Miguel’s girl!”

You're laughing when Kasey approaches the phone, waving hello to her.

“Whoa, you're the woman who's dating Miguel? Damn, you're hot.”

Gabriel held his hands up. “My girlfriend said it, not me.”

“Okay, that's enough out of you two.” Miguel reaches for the phone, but is stopped by Gabriel's protest.

“No, wait not until Xina sees her! I know she's not busy. She just told me she was binging that zombie show.”

“Ooh is it the one where if you die, you come back as a zombie?” You ask and Gabriel snaps.

“Yes! That's the one.”

“I lost interest after season four.” Kasey inputs.

“I liked that season!” You add in, “In my opinion, it goes downhill after season eight.”

To Miguel’s surprise, Xina picks up, seeing a bunch of faces on the screen.

“Didn’t I tell you not to bother me because I'm vegging out on my couch?”

“Stop vegging out and meet Miguel’s girlfriend.”

You wave once more, “Hi! It's very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, likewise.” Xina sits up, angling herself to not subject you to her binging phase.

“I'm sorry they sprung this on you. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It's fine. Maybe this will get Gabri to shut up for a while.”

“It won't.” Gabriel interjected, “Because I'm not able to touch you yet. Give you one of my famous hugs.”

“You don't want that.” Miguel whispered over to you.

“Huh? What did he say?”

“Nothing!” You change the conversation: "I want to meet you guys too. It would be best if you all came to the club. Enjoy yourselves.”

Xina raises an eyebrow, “You'd invite us to your job?”

“Yeah. There's good drinks, food…”

“And half-naked dancers.”

“Well, that too.”

Xina lets out an unsure hum, and Miguel slots himself back into the conversation.

“Okay, we have to go now.”

“Aww no.” Gabriel pouts.

“Send me your number!” Kasey shouts. "We have to put you in the group chat!”

“Okay.” You say goodbye to them all before hanging up and giving him back his phone. “They seem nice.”

“They act worse than this.”

“But they love you. That’s always nice to have.”

Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile when you slip your fingers through his across the table, creating small circles on the back of his hand.

The anxiety he never knew he had lessened after you took the initiative to meet his family. And he wasn’t worried about the face-to-face meeting after the positive reception you received from everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

“She seems nice.” Xina said through the phone call.

Miguel nods as if she can see him, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel after dropping you off, “She is. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Me too…” He notices her trailing off, and anxiety starts pooling in his stomach.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Not that serious.”

“Well, I’m suspecting it as the way you trailed off.”

Xina hums and he hears movement on the other line. “I’m just wondering, how is your relationship going to work?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and your dancer. You two are dating now. And you blow a lot of money when you go over there.”

“It’s not a lot of money.” Miguel mumbles, “Well, we’re acting like everything is normal. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

When Miguel steps foot in the club, he tries to act like his usual self. A customer who wasn’t dating one of the dancers. It was for the best since you didn’t want anyone to find out. Especially Jess.

“I get that, but you know your relationship can be seen as…odd.”

“Odd? What do you mean by that?”

Xina remains silent. How convenient when he’s at a stop light, hanging on to every word she said to him so far. His hands getting clammy against the wheel.

“Miguel, you have a fairly decent, well, almost powerful position at a huge company. And you’re dating someone who shakes their ass at a popular nightclub. You also give them a lot of money in exchange for what, a private dance? Please tell me you’re catching on to what I’m saying.”

He almost crashed into a car at the realization. After swerving into the right lane and reassuring Xina, who panicked, Miguel pulled over to gather his thoughts. He didn’t pick up on the slight power imbalance you two had when you started dating. Miguel thought it was harmless.

“I-I’m not taking advantage of her or using her. Does it look that way? Oh god, it does look that way.”

“It can also appear that she’s using you or taking advantage with you. Because of your money. I brought this up with you before. When you told me Dana was buying a bunch of expensive stuff when you got that head geneticist job-”

“I told you Dana isn’t like that. And neither is she.” During your first meeting, you weren’t adamant on taking more of his money. Sure, he knows about you wanting to save up for a house, and part of his money is being contributed to said house. Miguel didn’t think like that.

“Okay, fine. You know her more than me. I still think it’s best to clear up any confusion by having a conversation. So you two are on the same page.”

Xina was right. Having a conversation would help you two in the long run, especially when your relationship starts to get serious.

He tried to call you when he got home, but you didn’t pick up. You were probably still too busy at the club. That was for the best since the conversation was better to have face-to-face.

The next time, Miguel’s stomach twisted when he sat down in the private room.

You greeted him with a wave, closing the door behind you. The click from your heels matched the pounding in his head. He rubbed the sweat from his palms against his pants, holding in the urge to throw up. As you picked up the remote to decide a song, he grabbed your hand.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Let me pick a song first-”

“No, no song.”

You squint, “What do you mean ‘no song’? What’s wrong?”

“Am I taking advantage of you?” Miguel blurted out. He didn’t give you a chance to speak as he continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize my position would make our relationship odd. And I’m realizing that I’ve still been paying you a bunch of money since we started dating and I know you’re trying to buy a house, but I don’t want anyone to suspect you’re using me to help you buy one, which I know is not your intention-”

You silence him with a kiss. He accepts, his shoulders relaxing when he tastes your mango-scented lip gloss. You look directly into his deep eyes when you pull an inch away.

“Calm down.”

“Okay.”

You toss the remote to the side. “You’re not taking advantage of me and I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“But I give you almost a thousand every week.”

“You do, but I didn’t ask you to do that. That’s all you.”

“Because I want to support you. Now, I realize that throwing money for you to give me dances isn’t the best look. And we’re dating so…”

“I don’t care.” You say, hand on your hip. “Our positions don’t matter. I like you. You like me. What’s the problem?”

“I’m giving you money every time I come here.”

“So stop coming here if you have a problem with it.”

“I…”

He can’t. Seeing you in your element is one of the highlights of his week. What else was he supposed to do if he didn’t see you as much with your job? Miguel loves the dates he goes on with you, but he also enjoys watching you dance.

“I’m sorry.” You run your hand through his hair. Miguel leans into your touch, soothing the impending vomit in his throat. “I don’t want you to stop coming, but I don’t know what to do if you’re struggling like this. You know how Jess is about people not spending money in here.”

Miguel lights up.

“Can I speak to Jess?”

Your face twists with confusion, “Why?”

“I have an idea.”

Jess was in her office, in the back of The Weave, right near the locker rooms for the dancers. When you knocked, the door opened to Kaine, another of Jess’s security. Miguel always thought he was more intimidating due to the scar on his face and the buzz cut. He pays both of you no mind when he brushes aside you two.

“Jess? Your favorite customer wants to speak to you.”

“Which one?” Jess peers up from her computer, lighting up when Miguel comes into view, “Oh, Mr. Science Guy! What you need?” Miguel glances over at you and you give him the ok sign, leaving to return to the floor. “You finally gonna tell me that you’re dating one of my dancers?”

His eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know that?”

“You and Silk be giving cute glances at each other every five minutes. And don’t forget the private rooms have cameras.”

Miguel cleared his throat, not expecting to get hit what that. Now, he wasn’t sure if the idea he came up with was going to work.

“I really like her.”

“And that’s fine. As long as y’all don’t fuck in the club, I don’t care what you two do.” He nods at her words. “I will say this though. If you hurt my girl and you decide to show your sorry ass in the club, I will ban you for life and kick you to the curb.”

He gulped, fixing the collar on his shirt. “I understand.”

“Good.” Jess's tough demeanor returns to relaxed. "Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Miguel pulls out a grand and places it on the table. “Is it okay if I pay you this amount weekly? This is the same amount I give to Silk when I come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Jess inspects the money, letting the bills fly across her thumb. “What’s the deal?”

“I want to keep coming here, but I don’t feel comfortable handing money directly to Silk since we are…an item. I still want to support your business and the dancers so, would that be enough?”

“Did you two fuck yet?”

“Huh? N-No! No, we didn’t…”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you weren’t pussy whipped.” She places the money to the side, “That’s fine, but what do you get out of this?”

Miguel plays with the ends of his shirt, “I still want those forty-five minutes with her.”

“…that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Jess stares at him, inspecting his frame. The silence between them lingers as the pulsing beat from the club bangs against the walls. Miguel’s palms start to coat with sweat again, and he casually rubs them against his pants.

“Okay. You got a deal.”

He shifts with his feet. “O-Oh okay. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” She shakes his hand as if this was the start of a profitable business deal.

Now, everything was perfect.

You two have stabilized the foundation of your relationship. Miguel just arranged plans for his family, excluding his mother to meet you at The Weave for an official meet and greet. And he was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Banquet with him.

A brief doubt occurred that maybe it was too soon since the relationship was new. You could always say no. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.

He wishes you could see the smile on his face when you text him saying yes. Your messages are filled with excited GIFs and reaction pictures.

“You're very happy today.” Dana interrupts and Miguel quickly puts his phone away.

“I-It's a good day today. Got a decent amount of work done…”

“Because Tyler stopped messing with you. I told him to lay off on you since you do so much.”

Miguel was too busy being happy about his relationship to realize that Tyler hasn’t bothered him lately.

“Really?”

Her nod and smug face said it all. “Even after everything, I'm still looking after you.”

“Thanks…” He moved over, letting her pour enough coffee into her mug. While passing her the usual cream and sugars, their hands brushed together. Miguel's muscles tensed while Dana giggled at the sudden contact.

“You excited about the banquet? Sure, it's about a month away, but…”

“I am. Even though it's work-related, it'd be nice to get away for the weekend.”

Dana nods, taking a sip of her coffee while Miguel pours himself another cup.

“Are you going to be okay?” His brows furrow at her question. “I mean, we usually go together every year since you started working here. I know it's going to be a change.”

Miguel holds back a grin, “Yeah, yeah I'll be okay.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

@slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel @moonlight00sthings

@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie

@ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[hazyki]

☆ lights out. ☆

pairing -> dancer!riki x dancer!gn reader

genre → enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst (they have a little fight), an attempt at humour

word count → 4.5k

synopsis → after a power outage during a storm, you and riki are stuck in the dance studio together

warnings → very very slight profanity

extra→ jay and heeseung cameo at the end :)

Nishimura Riki.

2005 liner, Japanese-born and raised, 183 centimeters tall, and one of the best dancers you’d ever seen.

You hated him.

It wasn’t a surface level hatred, either. It was that deep, gnawing kind that crept up your spine every time he walked into the studio with that stupid infuriatingly perfect posture, head held high like he owned the place. It didn’t help that he actually kind of did.

Riki was always the best in the room, no matter where you were. Dance practice, competitions, even the casual workshops you’d attended; he was there, always a step ahead, always landing the moves with a flawless ease that made your blood boil. Every pirouette, every sharp turn, every damn leap seemed to come to him naturally, like the universe itself conspired to make him perfect. And the worst part? He knew it.

There was something about the way he moved that felt like he was challenging you, as if he was daring you to try and keep up. You always did. Or at least, you’d try; but every time it felt like you were falling just a hair short. Every mistake you made, every moment where your timing was slightly off or your footwork simply wasn’t sharp enough, he’d catch it. He would pester you about even the smallest details, plaguing you with advice you didn’t need. You’d always respond passively, attempting (though failing) to keep in your scowl when you’d realize how helpful his advice truly was. You hated it. Because upon seeing you improve, he’d give you that smug, cocky smirk, eyes barely flicking in your direction like he didn’t even need to try. Like he was just naturally better.

You despised it. Despised him.

So when the two of you got paired up for this competition, it was like some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. Of all the people they could’ve chosen, it had to be him. Soon enough you’d have to be on stage with hundreds of people with him by your side, demonstrating the stark difference in moves. You’re a good dancer; you know it. But next to him, you might as well quit.

Now after weeks of grueling rehearsals, late nights, sore muscles, and frustration simmering beneath the surface, you were stuck here with him, in an empty studio, after the final run through.

"Okay, from the top." Riki exclaimed through labored breaths, his hand doing impatient circles in the air, not even giving you a second to catch your own.

You stood there, hands braced on your knees, your chest heaving as sweat dripped down your forehead and splattered onto the floor. You stared at him, bewildered. Was he serious?

“Again?” Your voice came out steady, but it was laced with resentment, the weight of your frustration compressed into that one simple word. You tried not to let it show or make the thick tension in the air even worse than it already was.

Riki didn’t bother responding. He simply grabbed his towel from the front of the room, wiping the sweat off his face before tossing it aside and walking back to the center of the studio. He didn’t even look at you, just moved into position, waiting for you to follow like this was all some sort of routine for him.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You just stood there, staring at him, still trying to process how he could possibly have the energy to keep going. When it became clear you weren’t moving, he finally let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes like you were the one being unreasonable.

God, you hated him.

The studio felt unbearably hot, humid, and suffocating. It had to be nearing midnight, hours after the others had left. You couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore because Riki, in his obsessive need to stay focused, had insisted on leaving your phones outside so there’d be no distractions. The fatigue in your limbs weighed you down, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion from hours of dancing. It was him.

"Yes, again." He said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at you, stepping forward and tapping your shoulder lightly to break your daze. "We have to win. No matter what. So get it together."

You felt the anger flare up inside you, hot and immediate. “May not be as determined as you?” you scoffed. Oh, how typical of him. Like he was the only one who wanted this. Like his sleepless nights and relentless drive made him superior to everyone else. You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “You really think that, don’t you? Just because I’m not willing to drive myself into the ground doesn’t mean I’m not determined. Unlike you, I still care about being able to walk.”

He scoffed right back, the tension between you two rising with every word. "Yeah, well, if you were me, maybe you’d understand what it takes. But you’re not, and that’s the difference between us. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You just— aren’t."

You both stared each other down through the reflection in the studio mirrors. His usual straight posture was slouched, shoulders sagging, and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You knew he was just as exhausted as you, but still he was pushing both himself and you harder than ever. It was insane, but it was Riki. He didn’t know when to stop.

Finally, he broke the silence as he grabbed his water bottle. He tossed yours across the room without a word, and you caught it without thinking. "I need to win this," he said, unscrewing the lid and downing a few gulps. "And if that means practicing until my body gives out, then so be it. If you want to leave so badly, then go."

"We’re supposed to be a team, Riki," you snapped, your voice rising despite yourself. "This isn’t just about you. You can't practice by yourself and expect us to come together perfectly when it matters. They’ll see our differences, our lack of cooperation, and we’ll lose. Is that what you want?”

He scoffed at your attempt to reason with him, clearly unimpressed. “Oh please. Are you seriously trying to scare me into agreeing with you? Just admit it ; you’re too lazy to keep up.”

That was it. “Lazy? Are you fucking kidding me?” You clenched your fists, feeling your temper snap. "We’ve been here for hours. Hours, Riki. Everyone else left ages ago, and you’re still pushing us like we have no limits. What the hell is wrong with you? Is it not enough?"

His eyes were sharp as they locked onto yours, full of defiance. "So what, you’re saying we should just be like the others? You’re fine with being average when the competition comes? With being the same as everyone else?"

You could feel the fury bubbling up, barely contained. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it. If I were okay with being average, I wouldn’t still be here with you. But this? This is insane. We’ve been here for six hours. Six hours. And we can’t even check the time because of your stupid ‘no distractions’ rule. You’re running yourself into the ground. Are you not tired? Do you even like dancing? Because I'm starting to feel like you're treating this as a chore rather than a passion.”

The storm outside had gone unnoticed by either of you as it intensified, rain slamming against the windows in a relentless downpour. Thunder cracked loudly, rumbling through the building, but it was the least of your concerns. You were both too far gone into the argument to care about anything else.

“Six hours is nothing,” he spat, voice rising again. "Just admit it. you’re too lazy to—"

Flick.

Suddenlythe lights went out, bringing the studio into darkness. You both froze, the only source of light now the faint glow of the emergency exit sign. For a moment the only sound was the pounding rain outside and the ragged breaths you both were taking.

The tension was uncomfortable, and now as you were trapped in the darkness with him, it somehow felt worse. You could barely make out Riki’s silhouette, standing across from you, still glaring despite the sudden change in atmosphere.

What the fuck.

The room was dead silent except for the pounding of rain against the windows and the low rumble of distant thunder.

“The hell just happened?” you muttered as you took a cautious step forward.

Riki shifted beside you, and you could sense his frustration even in the dark. “Power’s out, obviously” he said dryly, voice tight.

You rolled your eyes, even though he probably couldn’t see it. “I can see that, genius. I meant why? Did the storm knock it out?”

As if to answer your question, another crack of thunder echoed through the room, making the windows shudder slightly. Riki cursed under his breath, and you heard the soft shuffle of his feet as he moved toward the studio door, trying to peer out into the hallway. The emergency lights barely illuminated anything beyond a few feet.

“Wow, this is great,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Stuck here in the dark with you.”

“Believe me, I’m thrilled.” you shot back, folding your arms. The room was already starting to feel colder, the usual heat from the studio fading away now that the power and the heating had gone out.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, the tension from your earlier argument still thick in the air, mixing with the cold that was now creeping up on you. You shivered involuntarily, rubbing your arms to create some warmth. Riki noticed, of course, and it was only a matter of time before he made some snide remark.

“Cold already?” he asked, his voice half teasing, half exasperated. “We’ve only been in the dark for like, two minutes.”

You glared at him, though it was probably wasted in the darkness. “You do realize the heating is out too, right? I’m not some robot who can function in sub zero temperatures like you.”

He scoffed. “Its hardly sub zero.”

But despite his words, you noticed him fidgeting, his hands rubbing up and down his arms, clearly feeling the drop in temperature too.

“Do you think we can get out?” you asked, trying to shift focus to something more practical. “Or are we stuck here until the storm dies down?”

Riki shrugged, though you couldn’t see it, and walked toward the door again, jiggling the handle. “It’s not locked or anything. But it’s pitch black out there. You want to risk tripping over something or getting soaked just to find out?”

You sighed, already tired of his attitude, but knowing you were both stuck in this situation whether you liked it or not. “So what do we do? Just stand here and wait?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” he said, still that sharp edge to his tone.

You could feel your irritation rising again, but you forced yourself to keep it in check. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There wasn’t much you could do, and the last thing you wanted was to trip over something in the hallway or, worse, get stuck somewhere else in the building where there wasn’t even an emergency light to guide you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, trying to stop shivering, but the cold was quickly seeping into your bones. Riki, ever the stoic, tried to act like it wasn’t affecting him, but you could tell he was getting just as uncomfortable. His usually straight posture was tense, his arms crossed in front of him in an attempt to conserve heat.

“Guess your brilliant plan of staying here all night is coming back to bite you now, huh?” you muttered, unable to resist the jab.

He glared at you, but his usual fire was dulled by the cold and the exhaustion. “You’d rather be out in the storm?”

“No, but I’d rather not freeze to death in here, either.”

Another moment of silence fell between you, only broken by the faint sound of the rain and your collective breaths. The warmth from the earlier workout was long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable chill that made you both painfully aware of just how long you might be stuck here.

Riki sighed, sounding more tired than angry this time. “Look, this sucks. I get it. But what do you want me to do? I didn’t plan for the power to go out.”

You hesitated, surprised by the shift in his tone. He sounded less like the demanding, insufferable person you’d been arguing with for hours, and more like someone who was just as worn out as you were.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, feeling the fight drain out of you. “I just want to go home.”

He didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap at you again. But then he sighed, softer this time, and leaned back against the mirrored wall.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The studio was dead silent except for the pounding rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You stood there in the dim light, deciding to walk over to the mirror and sit down. Your pulse thudded in your ears, every ragged breath matching the rhythm of the storm outside. You were still fuming, still riding the high of your argument, but now, in the sudden darkness, the energy felt different.

You could barely make out Riki’s shape, the dim glow of the emergency light casting a faint silhouette. He was standing still, breathing just as hard as you, and for once, there wasn’t another snide comment. No sarcasm, no scoff. Just the quiet.

“Well then,” you finally said, voice edged with frustration, “I guess that’s it for now.”

Riki didn’t respond. Instead, you heard the soft shuffle of his body as he walked up to where you were sitting, and dropped down next to you, on your left. His face was still impossible to see, but you could imagine the way his brows were furrowed, the stubborn set of his jaw.

“You were kind of right.” He muttered, and you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to lean into his body warmth.

“Huh?”You respond, a little confused.

“You know,” his voice cut through the silence, lower now, almost thoughtful, “you think I’m doing this just to push you, but… you don’t get it.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in tone. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not pushing you because I want to win.” He turned, facing you now, but still just a shadow against the emergency light. “Well I mean, yeah, I want to win. But I’m pushing you because if I don’t push myself harder, I feel like. Like I’ll lose something.” He paused, the hesitation in his voice something you weren’t used to hearing. “Like if I stop for even a second, I’ll forget why I started.”

The anger in your chest started to cool, replaced by confusion, and maybe something else. “What do you mean?”

There was another pause, longer this time. The tension that had filled the room was still there, but it had shifted. It softened somehow. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m killing it. The passion, I mean. Like, I love this, dancing, performing, but sometimes it feels like the more I do it, the less I feel. Like it’s just becoming something I have to do because it’s expected of me. And I don’t know how to stop that from happening. So I just… keep going.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in. Riki, the guy who never show a moment of weakness, was standing there, admitting he was scared. That he was afraid the very thing he loved the most was slipping away from him.

"I dont wanna end up hating it,” he continued, and his voice cracked just slightly, like he was holding something back. "But I also can’t stop. Because if I stop, then what? Who am I if I’m not good at this? If I’m not the best?"

His words hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sound of rain slamming against the windows and the soft hum of the emergency light. For the first time since you started working together, you felt like you were seeing a different side of him. One that wasn’t full of arrogance or irritation or stubbornness.

You scooted slightly towards him, awkwardly bumping his shoulder against yours, your own frustration slipping away as the storm inside you started to settle and the cold started to dissipate because of his body warmth. “You’re not going to lose it,” you said softly, surprising even yourself with the gentleness in your voice. “You won’t lose the passion. I don’t think its something that just disappears, no matter how hard you push yourself.”

Riki didn’t say anything, but you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly.

“And if it ever does start to feel like that,” you continued, voice steady, “then maybe that’s when you need to take a step back. To breathe. To remind yourself why you love it in the first place. Because, sorry man, but pushing yourself to exhaustion isn’t going to bring that love back. It’s going to make it worse.”

He let out a long breath, leaning against the mirror as if the weight of his thoughts had finally caught up to him. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know….. Um. We’re supposed to be a team, Riki. That means you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

He glanced at you through the dim light, his expression hard to read, but something about the way his posture relaxed told you that maybe, he was starting to let his guard down.

"Can I be honest?" you began again, feeling his eyes settle on you in the dim, cold room.

Riki shifted beside you but said nothing, the weight of his earlier confession still hanging between you. You could hear his slow, measured breathing, almost like he was trying to brace himself for whatever you were about to say. The cold air nipped at your skin, the only heat coming from him, but in that moment it was the least of your concerns.

"I never really thought you’d say something like this," you continued, rubbing your arms absentmindedly to keep warm. "I mean, honestly, Riki? For the longest time, I just thought you were like... a complete asshole."

He let out a small, incredulous laugh at your bluntness, but stayed quiet, waiting for you to go on.

"I did!” You insisted, turning to face him more directly. "You always acted so smug. So perfect. Like nothing ever got to you, and you just... ugh, you drove me insane. Every time we had practice it was like you were showing off and I hated it. I hated you. I mean sure, you were talented and yeah, I could obviously see that, but it was like you were purposely rubbing it in everyone’s face."

You could feel his gaze on you, and although it was dark, you imagined his eyes were wide with surprise at your honesty. He probably didnnt expect you to lay it out like this, but after his confession, you felt like the air between you had cleared enough to speak your mind. Plus the cold had numbed your usual hesitancy.

"And okay, maybe I was jealous," you admitted, letting out a breath. "Actually, no, I was jealous. All of the time. Like, it felt like no matter how hard I tried, you’d always be one step ahead. Always better. Always the golden boy or whatever... And it made me hate you more because I felt like I was never good enough compared to you. And then you’d keep pushing and pushing, acting like you didn’t have any limits, and it made me feel even worse. Deadass, how were you not exhausted? How did you keep going without burning out?”

Riki shifted slightly beside you, and you could sense his surprise. But to your shock, he didn’t snap back, didn’t argue. He just listened.

"But I never once considered that you were struggling too," you continued, sighing and your tone softening as your thoughts unraveled. "I just thought you were this unfeeling robot who thrived on outdoing everyone else. I didn’t think about what you were sacrificing, or how it was weighing on you. I guess I never really stopped to think that maybe you were hurting too."

The words hung in the cold air, the silence around you paused only by the sound of rain hitting the windows. The heat was long gone from the room, leaving a biting chill in its place, but your mind was so focused on getting the words out that the cold barely registered.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong," you added, a bit of your usual snark creeping back into your voice. "You are an asshole, like, still. Probably. But now I kinda get it, you know? You’re human. You’re not some perfect machine. And I’m—“ A pause. “I’m glad I got to see that side of you. Because now I think I understand you better."

For a moment the silence stretches out, and you half expect him to snap back with something sarcastic or dismissive, as he usually did. But instead, you feel him move beside you, closer this time, and before you could react Riki’s head softly came to rest on your shoulder.

You stilled for a second, blinking in the dark, unsure of what to do. The warmth of his head against your bare shoulder was a sharp contrast to the cold that seemed to seep into every other part of the room, and the unexpected intimacy of the gesture sent your thoughts spiraling. You had just spent the last few minutes telling him how much you loathed him, and now here he was leaning into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Errr... what are you doing?" you asked with a voice laced with confusion, though you didn’t make any effort to push him away.

He didn’t lift his head or even glance at you. “It’s cold.” he muttered, almost like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You let out a huff of air of half amusement and half shock. "Okay but— You know tthat this doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t think you’re still lowkey a jerk, right?”

Riki let out a soft laugh, though it was more relaxed this time and less sharp than before. “Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, unsure if you should find this whole situation absurd or oddly... nice? For someone who just confessed how much you couldnt stand him, here you were sitting in the cold with his head on your shoulder, both of you too exhausted to care about maintaining whatever wall had existed between you. Warmth crept up your ears slightly.

“But seriously,” you continued, voice a little quieter now, “I’m glad I saw this side of you. It’s weird... but in a good way. I think I actually— I think I really understand you now. And to be honest, I didn’t even think that was possible."

Riki shifted slightly but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah... me neither,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

Maybe you didn’t really hate the guy as much as you thought. Maybe what you had once called hate was just layers of frustration and misunderstanding, all tangled up in your own jealousy and his annoying perfection. Now, with his head resting on your shoulder and his breaths soft against your neck, the feeling wasn’t something you loathed. In fact, it was kind of comforting.

It made you realize that maybe there was something more to all of this. Beneath the sour conversation, and the constant competition and tension, maybe there was something you hadn’t let yourself see before.

Without thinking much about it, you shifted closer, letting your head rest gently against his. Your arm slowly found its way around his, and instead of pulling back, he stayed there, both of you wrapped up in the quiet, the cold, and each other.

And for the first time, in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax. Your eyes fluttered shut as your breathing synced with his. It was strange how natural it felt, like this had always been there between you two, waiting to be discovered.

You didn’t really hate him. Not anymore.

Flick.

The overhead lights buzzed to life, illuminating the room suddenly, blinding you both. You squinted against the harsh light, feeling Riki stir beside you as you both blinked yourselves awake.

The door to the studio creaked open and Heeseung and Jay walked through it, their faces a mix of confusion & amusement. They both froze at the sight of you two, curled up together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung raised an eyebrow with a smirk already forming on his lips.

“Well, well, well,” Heeseung said, crossing his arms as he took in the scene. “What do we have here?”

Jay, standing beside him, looked equally entertained, though he tried to hide it with a straight face. “Didnt expect to walk in on this.”

You quickly pulled away from Riki, sitting up straighter and blinking in annoyance at the sudden interruption. “Uh…,” you muttered under your breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment creeping up on you.

Riki, on the other hand, rubbed his eyes, looking dazed but clearly embarrassed. “What are you two even doing here?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep as he avoided eye contact with his hyungs.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying this way too much. “We heard the power went out and figured we’d come check on some things. Didn’t want the equipment getting damaged or anything. But...” he gestured to the two of you, “looks like we found something a little more interesting.”

Jay nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Riki, what are you doing here?”

Riki groaned, clearly regretting ever opening his mouth. “Just... we were practicing late, okay? And the power went out, and, uh.” he glanced at you, unsure how to explain the rest. “It’s not what you might think it is.”

“Oh sure,” Heeseung said and winked. “Totally.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself to your feet and stretching out the stiffness from being curled up on the floor for so long. “Can we not do this right now? It’s late, and I just want to go home.”

Jay grinned, tossing you his jacket. “Alright lovebirds. Let’s go. We’ll drive you both home before this gets any more awkward.”

Riki shot them a look, his cheeks tinted pink as he grabbed his things. “God, I hate you guys.”

“Nah, you love us.” Heeseung corrected, as the four of you walked out into the chilly night, leaving the studio (and whatever had just happened) behind.

note : thank you for reading!! as always comments and feedback are always appreciated :) fyi i got a little lazy towards the end so sorry if it stops making sense halfway through or if i didn’t bother to proof check correctly 😭😭

[itachiiwrites]

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy...

Genre : Blurb, slice of life, fluff, bittersweet.

Content : Dad!gojo x fem!reader and Megumi :)

a/n: This is how I'm coping with 271

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thinking about Satoru being a bit smug and proud about being Megumi's father figure. He's always been a bit of a show off and ofcourse he wouldn't miss the opportunity to do so now that he has a lovely girlfriend.

However, Satoru immediately gets disappointed and acts like a kicked puppy the moment the teenager gets along with you well, so well that he feels like he's being forgotten. A strange sense of jealously towards you comes along. He knows it's immature! You're the love of his life! And the script of both of you looking after Megumi was laid out so crystal clear in his head. Yet, he was the one who always took care of Megumi before you.

"Megumiiiii—" He expagerates, a very visibly, grumpy pout sitting on his lips, in an innocent impulse, he reaches out his hand, ruffling the boys porcupine hair.

"Can you behave sometimes?" The boy grumbled, although there faint tint of pink on the helix of his years told a different story, the non-verbal acceptance of affection from his mentor.

"Nope, I'm still your dad remember?" The emphasis on the term with a toothy grin from his teacher brings Megumi to roll his eyes, although the agreement was clear enough in the grumpy teenager's silence.

"Fine..dad"

And it makes his heart swell in reassurance because..his love and hopes and dreams were right in front of him.

In this moment, he'd be remembered.

He'd be remembered.

[fipindustries]

you know i woner if house md is considered good disability representation. it shows a man who has a genuine disability and all the different ways in which he has to deal with it, how it was caused, how it shaped his life, the way he moves, the way he relates to others, how it impeedes him and how sometimes he uses it to his advantage.

it also shows the nature of adiction, the show is constantly banging the drum of how he is basically an addict and how that is a deplorable thing, but like, i feel (and others may disagree) it makes a really compelling and empathetic case for why someone would become dependent on self medication to handle chronic pain. it makes it clear house is in pain constantly, and sometimes is stronger and sometimes is softer, there are days where he can ditch the cane and hop around if he really needs to, and there are days where he literally cant get out of bed because the pain is so intense. and it shows how there are all sorts of physical therapies and experimental treatments and psychological coping strategies but in the end the pain never really leaves. is a thing he has to live with. it shows how, yeah, if this is the thing that you need to make life bearable then it is what you are going to use.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 4: The Desire (+18 MDNI-SMUT)

"Ubi amor ibi fides."

Where there is love, there is faith.

“Tell me who you are,” Acacius waited for the answer to come from between your lips, his eyes lingering on the curve of them.

You knew it was time. There was no point in dragging it out any longer. 

“Marcus, I-”

He was taken aback at first, but he liked it when you called him by his first name. He kept questioning you, though, still waiting for an answer.

The door of the room was suddenly knocked on from outside. It was his squire. Acacius turned his head angrily.

"Don't disturb me!" he commanded.

"Sir, it's urgent!"

Acacius looked into your eyes for the last time, then withdrew his hands and turned towards the door.

"Come in!”

Acacius' squire Cato came in, looking very worried. 

"Sir, you've been summoned from Collis Palatium (Palatine Hill). It's an emergency." He was out of breath.

"Take it easy and let me know what's going on, Cato."

"They said, Emperor Geta has been poisoned, sir. The Empress wants to see you."

You covered your mouth in shock. After all, he was your half-brother. Acacius looked at you and then back at Cato. "Why is she calling me? I'm not a medicus."

"I'm not sure, sir, but I was told she wanted to speak to you. The guard with the horse said so. He's waiting for you outside to accompany you sir.”

Acacius nodded and let out a deep sigh. 

“Take me with you," you said suddenly.

He turned to you. "No, it might be too late by now."

"I can help him," you said loudly.

"Maybe you can't. I won't throw you into this recklessly,” he hissed.

"Are you going to let him die? It would be disastrous for Rome if he dies. He may not be the best ruler, but he's on the throne and an emperor in the end. I know he rules better than Caracalla. You know that too. You can't just leave Rome's fate in his hands."

Acacius put his hands on his waist, thinking, uncertain, but knowing you were right.

“I didn't know you were so interested in politics,” he teased, crossing his arms.

“I'm just observing things,” you shrugged. “Please let me come,” you said pleadingly.

His brow furrowed, and he raised his index finger as if in warning.

"You will stay in your cloak in the carriage and you will not show your face to anyone until I say so. If I need you, you will come when I tell you. Is that clear?"

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The upper class Roman citizens settled on the Palatine Hill and built magnificent palaces. Emperors lived here in palaces called Domus. Caracalla and Geta did not get on well, but they both stayed in the same palace, The Domus Severiana. This imposing structure was located southeast of Capitoline Hill and the Colosseum.

The carriage arrived at the Palatine Hill in the twilight. You and the General barely spoke the whole way, both of you feeling tense in different ways. He was nervous because he had brought you with him, and you were worried that you would not be able to help Geta in time. You needed to know what kind of poisoning it was. You were almost an expert, but you weren't sure how well you could do without Vicius, your uncle. If you do something wrong and he dies, you could be in trouble. The General was aware of this, and it was worrying him.

Domus Severiana had no entrance from the street because it did not face the street. Security issues were undoubtedly the reason. In fact, all you could see were high walls, and not a single window facing the street. As the carriage stops, Acacius looked at you directly. "Put on your cloak and wait until Octavius arrives."

You nodded and did as he said, pulling your cloak over your head. 

"I'll check on the situation, and if there's nothing left to do by the time I leave, you must return to the villa. Do you understand?"

"Understood."

Acacius looked at you one last time before turning towards the giant door of the courtyard, concern on his face. "I hope," you murmured as you looked behind him. "I hope you don't die, brother. And I hope I can help you."

A moment later, you heard the sound of a horse's hooves hitting the ground as it ran and you turned your head in that direction.  Octavius pulled the reins of his horse and stopped it right next to the chariot. He leapt down and regarded the scene with a keen eye.

"My Lady," he greeted, "I wonder if there might be any news?"

You shook your head. "The General is inside," you replied.

He nodded, "I'll see if he needs me," and went inside.

It was dark now, and you were eager to get moving. You were ready to get out of the cart and rush inside, but when you saw Octavius coming out of the courtyard, you decided to wait it out.

"The general said you should leave," he said quietly. From the look on his face, you could tell he didn't agree with him.

"Is it too late for him?” You swallowed hard.

“He said he doesn't look well. I think it's his last moments.”

You frowned at him. "I can save him, just like I saved the general. You know that, don't you?"

He gave you a look that seemed to say he was in agreement. But he was just following orders from his General. “Acacius ordered me to accompany you to the villa.”

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, stood up, and jumped out of the carriage. Octavius stopped you by extending his big arm out in front of you.

"The General's orders are clear, my lady."

 "I cannot let him die like this. If this gets out of Rome, Our enemies will undoubtedly spread the rumour that the Roman Emperor died of a simple poison and did not even have a skilled medicus to cure him. This would be an attack that could potentially weaken the Empire, and we can not allow that to happen.”

Octavius was too stunned by your words. 

‘My lady, you speak more wisely than the emperors, you are full of surprises indeed.’ He smiled.

First of all, as a medicus who saves lives, it never felt right to do nothing and let him die. You were determined to do it, even if he was not your brother, even if he was not the emperor. As a patient who needs help.

“I'll answer to the General,” you said to reassure Octavius. “But, sir, we don't have much time.” 

Octavius nodded, then inhaled deeply. “Even if you answer him, he'll punch me in the face for sure.”

You walked with him to the gate of the courtyard, he gestured to the guards waiting at the gate, one of the guards knocked the gate with fist without turning his body, squinting at you, and the large gold-embroidered gate swung open.  

The main courtyard was enormous. As you entered, you were greeted by a rectangular fountain with a motif of four peltas (shields used by the famous female Amazon warriors). The walls were decorated with frescoes, the courtyards and colonnaded porticoes were covered with elegant marble, and statues adorned the fountain and porticoes. Some of those statues were of family members. The biggest and most central one was of Septimius Severus himself, your father.

As you passed the statue, you took a quick look around, not knowing who it was, and made your way to the second courtyard. A large fountain and the same columns stood in this courtyard, but the marble was a different color. It was a truly beautiful sight. As soon as you crossed from this courtyard to the back courtyard, Acacius, who was talking to Julia Domna, noticed you and scowled. Julia Domna was looking sad, too. On the upper balcony, probably in the part of the emperor's chambers, you saw a lot of movement. Slaves were in a rush.

The Empress was clearly surprised, "That girl."

Acacius glanced at Octavius and his face clearly showed his growing tension. 

"If I can help, Your Highness," you said, bowing your head.

"How can you help? General, what does that mean?" she looked at him with a frown.

You answered before he could, the whole thing was so unnecessary, especially when time was so limited.

"I know I'm a woman and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm an experienced medicus. I'm here to save our emperor. Please allow me, highness.”

“Is that true, General?” She asked, her eyes on you.

Acacius squinted at you and then looked at at her and nodded. “She is the one who saved me highness, so, yes it is true.”

“But Medici has already said there is nothing more that can be done,” she said in a tearful voice.

"My Lady, we're wasting time here. Please take me to him and see what I can do to help.”

Julia nodded, looking very desperate.

“Well, he needs all the help he can get, you must be skilled to heal the General, but I trust him not you, not yet, don’t forget that.”

You noticed the General clench his jaw.

"Come with me now,” Julia gesturing with her hand.

While you were all going up the stairs, following her behind, Caracalla, who was leaning on the balustrade in front of Geta's room on the second floor, watching everything meanwhile.

“Lover, Slave, Medicus, so many things hiding under that beautiful face of yours,’ he said sarcastically. You nodded at him but didn’t like the smile on his face. There was no hint of sadness in his eyes. He seemed far from sad.

Julia stared at him with determination. "We'll do what we can, won't we? For your brother.”

“All the medici have already done enough, mother,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Or don't you trust my own medicus?”

You wanted to slap him in the face as he was standing in the doorway stalling you. How could he talk so carelessly when every second was precious? He might not love his brother much, but his behaviour was leading you to suspect him and you hated it.

Julia gently touch his shoulder. “I trust him as much as I trust you, my handsome boy. You trust me, don't you?”

Whatever Caracalla sensed in her voice, he didn't like it, and his eyes sharpened. But he quickly recovered his expression and smiled. “Hurry, then,” he said, pointing with both arms to the door leading to Geta's room.

Julia looked at you, "Just you." You saw the General before entering the Geta’s room. He was visibly nervous.

You were certain he'd give you a scolding when you got back to the villa.

When Julia led you through the door, you saw the golden dressing screen first. Opposite, was a large table with kinds of fruits and flowers on it and two chairs. Just beyond, in the opposite corner of the large window, where the golden curtains hung, was a large bed, covered with a red veil so thin that you could see the emperor lying on his bed. 

An old man, who was undoubtedly the medicus Caracalla mentioned just ago, looked at you with curiosity.

“Your Highness,” he nodded, his eyes were on you.

“She will check our emperor,” she said firmly.

“But this is a girl and-“  

“I said, I want her to check my son’s condition.” Her voice was sharp.

“Yes, highness.” The man bowed his head and stepped aside, squinting at you, Julia crossed her arms and gestured at you. You turned your head to Geta, lying motionless on his bed, a thick satin sheet draped over him. He was wearing a red tunic with gold embroidery, he seemed delirious, his golden blond hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his skin was almost white, you quickly lifted the bedclothes, took his arm in your hands and examined it. It was swollen, red, his neck had the same symptoms, it was definitely plant poisoning.

“Hemlock?” You murmured.

The man opened his eyes wide. “But how-“

Julia was surprised too. “Yes, they said that. Now that you've realised that quickly, you can make an antidote, can't you?”

You put your hand on Geta's forehead and checked his body temperature. It was burning. "We need to lift the covers now," you said, and grabbed the covers with your hands, lifting them completely off him and pushing them to the other side of the bed.

“I asked you if you could make an antidote!”

You ignored her question and asked, "How long has he been like this? Has there been any vomiting? Was it something he ate or drank?"

She froze for a second, thinking quickly. "It was after dinner. He threw up a lot, yes, and then he fainted. He was delirious."

"That's good. The vomiting," you said, checking his neck and lips with your fingers. You parted Geta's lips, still and pale. There was a little bit of food in his mouth, on the edge of his tongue, and you put it in a clean cloth and put it aside. They didn't even make him drink some water? “He needs to drink water and-“

“But highness, he shouldn't be uncovered like this, he will get cold, we need to keep his body warm,” the other medicus interrupted you angrily. Julia frowned.

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Sir, you obviously have knowledge, but I don't think you've ever dealt with hemlock poisoning before. His body is fighting with poison right now, so we need to lower his body temperature. In fact, we need to get as much fresh air in here as possible. Please be sure open all the windows and I need clean water and cloths.”

“You heard her!” Julia shouted at the emperor's slaves. Then she turned to the other medicus. 

“Is it true? That you've never encountered hemlock poisoning before and you've never treated it and you didn't tell me?” Her voice was so sharp and loud that he trembled with fear.

“You've been living in this palace as a medicus for years, maybe even longer than this girls age. But you can't do anything against this poison. Even this girl knows more than you. And you have the nerve to tell me that my son doesn't have much time left?”

“Your Majesty! I did not want to upset you-”

“Get out!” She barked.

Then she turned to you. “Antidote?”

“No, there is no antidote for hemlock,” you shook your head. “But I can get the poison out of his body in the most undamaged way possible.”

Julia was confused. “So you mean I can hope that, my son won't die?”

You smiled at her. “No, at least not tonight, highness. I ask you to trust me.”

She nodded, “Do whatever it takes to heal him,” her eyes filled with tears.

When the water and cloth you asked for arrived soon, you put them on the bedside table, dipped the cloth into it, squeezed it a little, put the cloths on his forehead and neck, and took your medical bottles out of your bag.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked curiously. 

“I'll have to make an herbal mixture to-.”

“Didn't a plant already poisoned him?”

“Yes, but to reduce and neutralize this poison… Can I use the kitchen? I'll need to examine the food he ate for dinner and the drink he drank.”

“All right, come with me.”

You left him alone on the bed and went out with Julia while the slaves opening all the windows one by one, as you'd asked. The General and Octavius were waiting just outside the door. Caracalla was the first to notice you. 

He approached you two, looking you over, and then turned to his mother. “Mother?"

"He'll be fine. Let's pray for him," she said, putting his arm around his son. Then she called to one of the slaves, "Take her to the kitchen," pointing at you. Acacius was looking at you, but Julia stepped between you. "General Acacius, I need you to do something for me. Come with me," she commanded. 

Reluctantly he had to go with her and he must be hated it.

You called Octavius over as you and the General were walking in different directions. The slaves went ahead and showed you the way to the kitchen.

"Sir, I need your help with something.”

“Of course, what is it?”

"I was going to ask you to help me in the kitchen. We need to be quick."

Octavius nodded. He trusts you.

"Do you know where the empress and the general have gone?"

"She trusts the General, so she is having him question those who cooked and served the emperor's food. But what I don't understand. Everyone must have eaten the same food, right? Why is only Emperor Geta poisoned?”

“Thats why we're here, to find out.”

There was no one in the kitchen because they had gathered all the cooks and other slaves in the other courtyard like he said. 

You asked one of the slaves to help you get the bowl Geta had eaten from and the others. He went to the dining hall and brought the bowls that the other medicus had examined. You took a piece from Geta's bowl and put it on another plate. 

You took a quick sniff, without bringing your nose too close. You knew that the smell of hemlock was very pungent, but this didn't smell like it. That was a bit unexpected. You put the remains from the corner of Geta's mouth on the other side of the plate and compared them. It was clear that he had eaten from this bowl. You quickly looked at the remains of the food in the bowls and cauldrons where the others had eaten. They were all the same and there was no sign of poison in any of them. 

"It wasn't what he ate," you murmured. "It's what he drank," your eyes locked onto the wine cups. 

Octavius and the other slaves looked at each other, watching you curious to see what you'd do next. You looked at the slaves as you compared the cups. "Can someone tell me which is the emperor's drinking cup? Has a new wine jar been opened recently?"

They exchanged glances and murmured.

"Does she mean the one that that slave just opened today?"

"Maybe."

“Explain please?" you asked.

“One of the slaves spilled the wine during the drinks service, the emperors got pretty mad and told him to bring a new one. He ran to the kitchen and came back with a new decanter.

"And he poured it into Emperor Geta's cup first, didn't he?" you asked. Everything seemed to be cleared up, although you still didn't know what exactly had poisoned him.

"Show us that decanter now!" Octavius barked.

The slave girl nodded and ran into the dining hall to do as he said. A moment later she came running back with the decanter, but you got angry when she spilled some on the floor.

"Be careful! It must be poisoned!”

You quickly poured the wine into a cup and took a sample. The smell was a bit unusual, but you were relieved when your nose recognized it, you encountered before, back Egypt.

"Amanita muscaria," you said quietly. "He mixed it in with his wine."

"What's that?" 

You glanced up at Octavius. "It's a poisonous mushroom, made into an herbal extract and mixed into his wine. It's not an easy process, and not everyone can do it.”

You remembered the medicus from earlier. But you had better things to do right now than to blame him. The next step is to remove the poison from Geta's body. To do that, you had to make a natural antibiotic. You got the ingredients out of your bag and started making it right away, but then you had a sudden realization: everyone who cooks and serves food is about to die.

“Sir, please inform the General, I don't think it's the other slaves or cooks’ fault.”

Octavius nodded and turned on his heel and rushed out. You were praying as you making the herbal concoction with the help of the slaves standing beside you. While not as potent as hemlock, mushroom poison was still quite deadly, especially when combined with alcohol. But fortunately, unlike it, it is possible to make an antidote.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally finished the concoction and headed for the courtyard to go upstairs in rush. The other slaves ran behind you, stumbling as they tried to keep up with you on the stairs. You went into the room, put the bowl on Geta's bedside, and leaned over to check on him. You had so much you wanted to say, so much that hurt, but as a medicus, you were used to focusing on doing your job properly.

All you could think about was getting him better as soon as possible. You gave him the herbal concoction to drink with his slaves help. His breathing was weak, but you made him drink it all. You bowed your head when Caracalla came into the room. He was angry.

"Did you ask them to interrogate my slave?"

That slave who served Geta belonged to him, no surprise.

"He was poisoned by what he drank, not what he ate, and that makes him the prime suspect."

"Are you accusing me, you whore? Who do you think you are?”

He barked quite loudly, and at that moment, as you looked into his eyes, which were glowing with anger, you knew for sure that he was responsible for this. You forced yourself to remain calm.

"Never, Your highness. I would never accuse you of something your slave did."

He came closer to you, his eyes filled with menace. "Once my brother's long gone, all your show of healing will be in vain, and you'll be the one who answer for it, I’ll make sure of that."

You want to blame everyone but yourself, you cunt, you thought as you looked into his eyes.

You were both startled by a sudden deep cough. When you turned to look at him, Geta was propped up on his elbow on the bed, staring at you. 

"Who dares to make so much noise at my bedside?"

"Highness!" You couldn't believe your eyes to see him awake.

Geta raised his eyebrows, squinting. "You? Am I dreaming? Must be seductive one,” he smirked.

“Brother!” Caracalla rushed to his side and leaned over the edge of the bed. He was certainly a very good actor, you had to hand it to him.

“What happened to me? What is she doing here?” Geta was looking at you with his pale but alive face. Seeing him like that a proud smile spread across your face.

“Don't you remember?” Caracalla asked curiously.

“I remember I threw up like damn fountain, after drinking the disgusting wine, and then it was a bit dark,” he murmured, pursing his lips.

“My son!”

Julia burst into the room. The slaves must have informed her immediately. With a gentle touch, she led Caracalla to sit on the edge of the bed and hugged Geta. Caracalla stood up and crossed his arms. 

As you looked at them from where you stood, you felt envious that his mother was alive so she could worry for him, hug him, kiss him. You never had that chance and never will. 

“You are indeed a good medicus, what will you become next, I wonder.” The implication in Caracalla's voice sent shivers down your spine, you could almost imagine what he would do when he found out the truth about you.

Julia stood up and came to you, and for the first time you saw sincerity in her eyes.

“You gave me back my son's life, how should I reward you?”

“I have only fulfilled my duty, Your Majesty.”

“How decent.” Caracalla muttered.

“My head is still spinning,” Geta gasped, lying back on the bed.

“You should get some more rest your highness, and keep drinking the concoction through the night,” you said as you looked at him.

Geta sniffed the concoction and a disgusted expression settled on his face. “This is the most disgusting shit I've ever smelled. What’s in it?”

Just as you were about to say, he silenced you by raising his hand. “Don't you dare tell me, I don't want to know.” Then covered his face with his arm and pointed at you with his other hand. “I am indebted to you. Provide her with whatever she desires, mother.”

"That is very kind of you, but my sole desire is to see you recover," you said sincerely.

Caracalla laughed out loud which made you startled, Julia rolled her eyes, Geta laughed too.

What was so funny?

Geta turned his head to you as he was lying on the bed. “I get better why the General is so fond of you.”

When you heard his name, you looked at the door, but he wasn't there. 

"Let's give highness some space to rest," Julia said, gesturing to the door.

Caracalla pursed his lips, and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't happy at all. Julia took your arm, you were a little startled but you stayed still. "Are you sure you don't want anything? Everything has a price, and everyone has something they want in return."

You looked at her face as you walked down the hall together. "I just want good days for Rome, Your Highness. That's all I want.”

“It will be so, since you saved our emperor,” she smiled. 

You were beginning to warm to her, but something inside you kept telling you were putting yourself in danger. 

“I see you live with him as the General's medicus. Is it true you saved him in Egypt?”

You swallowed, but you had to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“You lived there? He brought you here?”

You nodded.

“Do you have a name?”

“Highness!”

Macrinus came running down the hallway towards you. His eyes met yours, and you knew instantly that he carried a warning message. 

"I'm truly sorry for what happened. I came as soon as I heard. Could you please let me know how our emperor is doing now?”

"He's better now, thanks to this girl. It seems your and Caracalla's medicus wasn't as good as this girl."

Macrinus' expression made it clear he was not pleased. 

“Thankfully, he's alive. We should probably offer a sacrifice to the Gods.”

"I'll do that first thing tomorrow, but I'm not sure you're being completely sincere. You haven't called off the council meeting tomorrow, have you?"

"I would if it wasn't so important, but I thought Emperor Caracalla would lead it. He agreed."

From the way he looked at you, you knew immediately that the meeting was about you.

"If I could speak to His Majesty-"

"No, he will rest. Caracalla is also very tired, maybe you should come tomorrow. It has been a very hard night.”

"Have the perpetrators been punished? Who is responsible?" Macrinus was very curious, which made you also suspect him.

“The General is dealing with that,” she said with cruel smile.

You felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten him amidst the chaos.

"Your Highness, if I may, I would like to ensure that the General and I have completed our duties here.”

"I perceive that you are fatigued; they shall accompany you. You may leave.”

“Thank you.”

You nodded to them and hastened to the general, disregarding Macrinus' disapproving gaze. 

As you walked briskly towards the main courtyard, you thought it would be a good idea to get out of there with the general as soon as possible. You assumed he was upset that you hadn't listened to him. When you passed the tall pink marble column with gold inlay on the sides and came out into the main courtyard, you saw Octavius first. He was standing opposite the general and looking down at something. Then you saw the general himself, with his back to you. To see what he was looking at, you had to get past the stunted trees. Then, as you got closer, you noticed the strong smell of iron and then saw the sword in the general's hand. You were taken aback to realize that the smell was of blood dripping from his sword onto the ground. 

Then you saw people in slave clothes lying on the ground, including Caracalla's medicus. You were petrified. Julia and Caracalla must have had the General do their dirty work. When Octavius looked up at you, the General turned around and his eyes met yours. There was blood on his sandals, his leather armor, and his neck. His face was expressionless. When you saw him like that, you felt fear and horror. But when his expression changed and he looked sad, you threw all your fears aside and approached him. He pulled back and turned his head away. He wiped his sword on a rag Octavius handed him and sheathed it. 

"You saved him," he said, wiping the blood away from his leather armor.

"Yes, the empress said we could head out now,” your voice broke.

It wasn't just that they killed these people without a trial. They even had the General do this dirty job, and it made you angry. You forced yourself to ignore the people who were lying on the ground, lifeless.

You didn't like the way he avoided looking at you though, so you went over and took his hand, pulling him closer. "We're done here, General. Shall we go?" You touched his face with your hand and turned him towards you. His brown eyes shone like gems in the light of torches on the courtyard walls.

"Wait for me in the carriage. I'm not done yet,” he said coldly.

"I'll take care of it, sir," Octavius said, clearly worried about his friend. "Please go to your villa and rest." 

"You heard him. I want to go. I'm exhausted," you said, tugging on his arm, but he was like a statue and wouldn't budge.

Acacius turned his head to him.

Was he ignoring you?

“Thank you, my friend.”

But he must not have liked you tugging on his arm, so he grabbed your arm instead, you liked the way he touched you with a protective instinct. As you strode out of the courtyard, your gaze fixed on the general's face, you felt a sharp, piercing pain in your heart. You were not used to seeing him like this. You would have done anything to see him smile again.

It was after midnight when the carriage arrived at the villa, there was no moonlight tonight, it was quite dark. The General was silent the whole time, he joined you in very short sentences when you told him what you had done to save Geta. It was hard to tell if it was because he was angry with you or because he had to kill those people against his will. He was a man of justice and honor, it must have been hard for him, and you felt very sorry for him. You checked his beautiful face as you entered the courtyard of the Villa, still looks upset, it was getting unbearable. Without thinking, you stepped in front of him and put one arm around his waist and one around his neck and embraced him. You could feel the surface of the leather armor under your skin as you pressed your cheek against his chest. 

“I'm sorry you had to do that.”

"I was on the verge of doing more,” he said in a sharp tone, almost as sharp as his sword.

You gazed up at his face to ascertain what he was talking about. In the gloom of the night, with only the light from the torch on the wall of the courtyard, the color of his eyes appeared to be very dark. “If you couldn't save him, she was ready to kill you. She was so mad and was willing to spill blood. I made my plan right in that moment. I was as ready as she was."

You swallowed hard, wondering if he was talking about a suicide plan.

“To her, you saved yourself by saving his son. That's it. She put Caracalla's medicus life on the line without a second thought. She could have done the same thing to you," he hissed.

You felt guilty when you sensed the tremor in his voice.

“I'm sorry, I disobeyed you.”

“You'd better be,” he muttered.

You took a step back and looked at him. Finally his expression had softened, and you felt a sense of relief.

“But you were going to kill the empress and the emperors just for a slave girl?” Raising your eyebrows curiously.

He smirked. “Wasn't it you who shout in my face that you were not a slave?”

You bit your lip and gave a shy smile. “I did. I’m sorry for that too.”

“And you still didn’t tell me who you are.”

“I will, but, with all due respect you haven't answered my question, General.”

He lowered his head and looked you in the eye. “Not just for a slave, I'd kill them all for you even if I don’t know who you are.”

He couldn't have been more seductive with that sharp tone, your heart began to race. But no matter how tempting it was that he was ready to kill anyone for you, you couldn't get out of your mind what Macrinus had said before. You couldn't bear to make the General look guilty when he knew nothing about it.

“Can I tell you tomorrow? I'm really tired. It's been a long day and night."

“It certainly was. Fair enough. Tomorrow then.”

The next day, you woke up feeling so tired you didn't want to get out of bed. You had a lot of bad dreams about the General. You also thought about Caracalla's attitude, how ready he was to kill you, Julia's cruelty, and what she made the General do. It was all torturing you, and you didn't know how to deal with it. You were sure that even if Geta recovered thanks to you, he wouldn't support the General against Senate. There was nothing but tension between those two. Macrinus was so keen for you to introduce the congress tomorrow that he didn't even care that the emperor almost died. You knew that man's determination well enough. He wasn't going to back down from this, no matter what. He was only interested in power. He wasn't helping you because he cares about you. 

 He was using you as a pawn to achieve his goal. And you were aware of that. It's possible that everything he said about your father was untrue. Who knows what will happen to you when you show up in the council meeting. Or the general. You hated being in the middle of everything and didn't want to put the general in danger, so you felt your heart ache as you forced yourself to admit that the only thing to do was to leave. You wanted to go home, to your old land, where no one could reach you. If you could be invisible like before, maybe everything would be as it should be and the general wouldn't do anything to put himself in danger. It was a dumb idea, though. You weren't the type to run away. The emperors and their mothers had already seen you, and your absence when Macrinus convened the senate would have been an admission that you had run away. They would find you no matter where you went. There was no escape.

No, that's not an option. With so few options on the table, it was down to just one. However, there was something you wanted to do before telling him who you were. Now that you know for sure how you feel about him. As Aya, you wanted to do something as his slave. Yes, you were ready, maybe not physically yet, but you were absolutely sure as mentally.

A moment later the door opened and Norell walked in.

“Aya, are you okay? Master told me to check in on you.”

You sat up to look at her.

“I’m alright, nothing to worry about.”

“It's almost evening and you're still on the bed,” she complained.

Almost evening? Has it really been that long? Norell closed the door and came over.

“Or is it your moon? Do you want me to get you something warm?”

Fortunately, there were still a few days until then.

“No, I'm just a bit tired.”

“Yes, you came late last night, it was you who healed the emperor, but the master warned us to keep our mouths shut.”

“Well, I did what I could, yes. Is he all right?”

“The master? Yes, why?”

"Yesterday was a very tiring day for him and for me."

"He took his bath in the morning and then asked about you while he was eating, but he seemed fine."

Right, the bath.

"Shall we go to the bath today?" you asked her. You needed to take a bath before the night.

"Today? But I'm still bleeding, you know," she said, pursing her lips.

"Oh, right."

"But I don't think the master will mind you using the balneum," she said with a wink. "Is there any particular reason you wanted to take a bath today?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

When she saw you blush, a wide smile spread across her face. 

"Ah, so tonight's the night?" She clapped her hands gleefully. 

"Shhh, be quiet."

"No wonder you've been so pensive all morning."

You let out a deep sigh. She was right; you had definitely thought about it too, a lot. 

"But you haven't eaten anything yet. Why not come with me and eat something in the kitchen?" "Then I'll help you take a bath.”

"I'm fortunate to have you," you said, smiling, hugging her, looking at her reddish-orange hair, which represented ginger, thinking about what would happen after you revealed yourself. You didn't want to lose her friendship.

As you were leaving the room, you were pretty surprised to see the General right outside the door. Was he about to knock?

“I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

Norell bowed her head and walked away to leave you two alone, giggling meanwhile.

You ignored her and eyed him up and down. He was wearing a white tunic with gold leaf embroidery on the hems, a brown belt with embroidery of the same colour and pattern, and a red shawl over it, as if representing Mars himself, which was stunningly attractive. You tried to stay calm, but it was hard.

“I'm alright, well, I guess I'm still tired from yesterday.”

"I see. It must have been quite tiring for you. I didn't get a chance to ask you much yesterday because I was angry with you, but now I understand better how hard it was for you," he said in a soft, velvety tone.

He looked better than yesterday, the anger and sadness in his eyes were gone, and seeing him like this filled you with joy. It was so hard to wait till night.

"But you promised for today," he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

"Yes, if it's not too much to ask, could I come to your room tonight?”

Acacius' brown eyes met yours, first with a hint of surprise, then with a growing sense of excitement. 

"You picked the perfect time to talk," he said with a smirk. You felt your cheeks flush, and at that moment, you felt a strange moisture between your legs. It was a new feeling for you, a combination of lust and desire. It was wonderful, full of life.

"I have to go for a while, but I'll be back tonight."

"May I ask where you're going?"

His smile faded but his expression was soft. “I need to see how the emperor, Geta, is doing. Other members of the senate are going to visit today. Sort of like a visit to see if he's still alive, I suppose.”

"Oh, I see. One more thing, I was wondering if I could use the balneum. Norell said she couldn't come to the baths and I didn't want to go by myself."

"Don't go," he said abruptly. "To the baths. I mean, never. The balneum is yours.”

“Thank you,” you said with a shy smile.

He took your hand and kissed the top of it.

"Enjoy your bath, wait for my return at night," he said almost commandingly, looking under his eyebrows.

He touched your cheek, where it was blushing, and gave you a gentle stroke. Then he walked out of the courtyard. Even though you felt a little abandoned by his leaving, you were pretty excited because you knew he was coming back, so now was the perfect time for a bath. 

Norell accompanied you to the balneum, where you had a long chat. Thanks to her and the hot water, you were almost relaxed, and now you had only one thing on your mind. After getting dressed in your room, you combed your hair and applied rose essence with your finger tips on your neck and hair. It was your favorite, helps you to stay calm, and it smells so nice. 

It was almost night time but the General still hadn't returned, he had been gone a long time and you were getting worried. It was like bedtime for Norell and the other slaves. Cato, the General's squire, was waiting for his arrival in the courtyard. The water flowing from the fountain provided a soothing backdrop to the night, accompanied by the sounds of crickets. While you were playing with the water from the fountain, the black cat you had named Mau suddenly appeared and crossed between your feet, brushing its tail against your skin. She's been away for a while, and you missed her much. 

You picked her up, thinking it would be a good idea to play with her for a while, but she quickly got out of your arms and jumped down. She went to the west side of the courtyard, where the General's chamber was, and meowed at you. It looked like she wanted to show you something. You were curious, so you went over to her. She meowed and ran past the door and into the garden where you first officially met the general. It was hard to keep up with her speed, but you rushed to open the door and enter the garden. She was licking the remains of food on the ground. She probably stole something from the kitchen and brought it here, but she must have still been hungry. Tullia usually shooed her off, so she probably came straight to you. You felt sorry for her, so you went to the kitchen to get her something. 

You opened the door slowly and sneaked in. The kitchen was pretty tidy. You opened one of the food bowls, added some food, and closed the door. She started to meow louder and louder as she caught the scent.

“Sshh, you'll get us both caught,” you whispered.

You went back to the General's garden, afraid that Tullia would find a bowl on the floor in the morning and get angry. Mau ate all the food happily with a purr that made you smile. Once she was done, she licked herself clean with her paw and curled up next to you, ready to fall into a peaceful sleep. Unlike her, you were not so sleepy, you lay down on the grass to watch the stars, twinkle like jewels in the dark sky. It was mesmerizing.

"I hope you don't find yourself falling asleep there again."

You were startled by his voice. When did he arrive? You sat up and looked around. It was hard to see in the dark, so you looked up towards his balcony and noticed him. He was standing with his arms leaning on the balustrade, watching you from above. He had a wonderful smile on his face.

You stood up, quickly brushed your dress and hair with your hands and headed for the stairs. As you took each step, you felt your excitement and nervousness growing. When you got to the last step and were on the same level as him, he took his hands off the balustrade and looked at you.

You smiled when you realized from that distance that he was just as excited as you were. In the darkness of the night, in his white tunic, he shone like the stars in the sky, as if he had just descended to earth through them. As you approached him, he took a few steps towards you, never breaking eye contact. He closed the gap between you slowly, and you saw his dark brown eyes in a way you had never seen them before. They were dark but sparkling, full of desire, an open invitation to you that you couldn't refuse.

You stood there for a while, just speaking with your eyes. At first, you weren't sure how or what to do. You didn't know how to kiss. You'd never kissed anyone before, but you were eager to learn and you really wanted to touch his lips.

You reach up and pull his face closer to yours. You closed your eyes and tried to make your clumsy lips work, hoping that your kiss would be seen as acceptable. You brushed your lips against his and kissed his lower lip. Then you pulled back and looked at his face to see how he reacted. A gentle breeze came from his nose and between his lips, hitting your face.

Was he laughing? You probably looked a bit silly because it was your first kiss. You felt a bit embarrassed.

“My apologies, I've never kissed anyone before,” you murmured.

“Then you'll have to learn,” he said softly. “Allow me to teach you.”

He puts his hand under your chin to make you look up before kissing you. Then pressed his lips against yours with all the passion he has. And Gods! He was a very passionate man. You're so shocked that your first impulse is to reject him. But your slight push on his muscular shoulders doesn’t do anything to stop him. If anything, his kiss gains intensity.

He ventures a hand to your waist pulling you closer. When he started to lightly touch your lips with his tongue you parted your lips and let his tongue touch yours, not hurried but restrained. His tongue tasted like sweet wine, the sweet smell of his skin took your breath away, your blood raced, boiled under his lips. The way his mouth explores yours, the way he keeps rubbing his body against yours, all tells you to surrender to him. Instinctively you raised your arms to wrap them around his thick neck and tangled your fingers in his curly partially gray hair.

He broke the kiss and smirked. You were out of breath and surprised to find yourself in this situation. "You can stop me by saying no," he murmured while rubbing your earlobe with his nose. He pulled his head back gently, his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for your approval. You could see the passion in them.

“I’m afraid that,” he placing his hand on your chin and stroking with his thumb, “if we go any further, I may not be able to stop myself, and you should know, there's no turning back.”

The thought of it almost broke your heart, you wanted him more than anything, you were almost ready to beg him to kiss you again.

"Are you really certain about this?"

You were certain, and you wanted to throw yourself into his arms.

"I am, sir... Marcus." You took his other hand and placed it on your waist as if it belonged there. "I want to be yours.”

His face lit up with a gorgeous, radiant smile. Piercing you with his brown eyes, his huge hands land delicately on your hip and the contact is so intimate that you have to remember how to breathe. His low, deep voice sounds confident. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to say that.”

And before you can even react, he kisses you, but not as gently as before, much more eager, much more passionate. You completely given yourself to him with each deep, passionate kiss. 

His long, thick fingers traced a path from your neck to the hollow of your back, then to the knot of the thin belt you had tied around your waist. You gasped as he quickly undid it, and you found yourself in his arms.

He lifted you so easily in his strong muscular arms, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when the air hit your face as he carried you to his room. He set you down, near to his bed, you didn't break eye contact as he slowly undresses you, you were sure your cheeks were redder than ever. The dress falls to the floor and gathers around your feet. He pulls your hair aside to expose your neck and collarbone. The atmosphere in the room changes, and you realize your body is shaking. He must have noticed it too because the tenderness in his eyes turns into something else. 

“You have a rare beauty,” he whispers, stroking your collarbone with his fingers, ”Your skin is like a pearl hidden in an oyster shell for me to open.”

When you averted your eyes from him, he cupped your chin in his hand and turned it toward him.  He scooped you up and lays you gently on the bed. The feel of the soft fabric against your skin is pleasant, but nothing compared to the sight of him standing over you and running his eyes up and down your body. At first you squirm shyly under his piercing gaze, his eyes screaming at you: You are so beautiful. I want you. This not only relaxes you, but also makes your body squirm with anticipation. Hot desire.

Your eyes widened when he took off his tunic, you had noticed how gorgeous his body was while he was bathing, but now it was even more impressive. A strong masculine chest, a muscular stomach and a perfect v line. The scars he has add to his rough beauty, perfect.

Marcus unhurriedly puts his knee on the bed and crawls over your body until he's standing over you. You weren't sure if he was trying to gauge your reaction or trying not to startle you with a sudden movement. He brought his face close to yours and began to run his lips along your neck and ear, his fingers caressing your shoulder to your collarbone, and then your arm. 

“Don't be nervous, try to relax,” he whispered in your ear, and when his warm breath hit your face you were getting impatient. He was being too kind and you were grateful for that, but you wanted to be his, you wanted to know what it felt like.

Then he uses his weight to pin you to the bed. The feeling of bare skin against bare skin is incredible. You start rubbing your body against his, savoring the friction. The contact of his body against yours makes you shiver. It feels thrilling. Arousing.

His mouth eagerly finds yours and turns into an all-consuming kiss. Warm, eager lips slide down from your chin to your collarbone and down between your breasts, sucking your sensitive skin in their path. You've always tried to imagine what men's lips would feel like on your skin, but nothing could prepare you for this overwhelming wave of sensations. It feels better than you think. Your back arches and you find yourself wanting more, more of his hand, more of his eager mouth. He stops and stares at you as he hovers over your breasts. You squirm in impatient anticipation. What is he going to do?

He runs his nose and mouth around your breasts, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. Marcus blows lightly on one nipple before bringing it to his hot mouth. He sucks gently at first, making you tingle all over. When his mouth presses on your nipple with long, deep, almost wild sucking movements, the sensation is almost unbearable. You moaned, writhing with pleasure beneath him, his mouth slides down to your stomach, torturing its way south until it reaches your ankles. Then he slowly slides up your leg until he's licking your inner thigh. 

He keeps your body arched as his lips repeat the sensual orbit up and down your other leg. He lifts your leg and pulls you down a little to better position it, puts it on his shoulder. You love that he is so strong and uses his strength to move your body. He runs his warm tongue alternately over both your thighs and slowly approaches the top of your thighs. 

He uses his strong hands to spread your legs, leaving your most sensitive area ready and well exposed to his tongue. A sudden flush of embarrassment makes you raise your arm to shield your eyes as he takes a good look at your most intimate parts. Marcus grasps your arm, pulling it back. "Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”

He hums into your folds, making pleasure run through your body. His erection sears your skin, making you aware that he’s getting pleasure from driving you crazy with his mouth.

He kisses the area softly; he flips his tongue and sucks you sensitive lips gently. Relentlessly.

And his tongue finds your most sensitive spot. You gasp, writhe with pleasure as your legs stiffen. You cry out, exchanging your fluttering, flaming tongue for hungry lips. This pleasure is more than you can take. Your muscles tense, your toes curl. You didn't want it to stop, but it was becoming too much. Your insides begin to tremble. Finally he increases the pressure of his suction on your clit. Pleasure, scorching, pure, exquisite pleasure, overwhelms you and you explode. You try to muffle the vocal expressions of your pleasure by biting your lower lip, but he parted your lips with the tip of his finger.

 “Let me hear you,” he says as he gently kisses your lips and chin.

Still on his knees, he takes you in his big arms and embraces you. He kisses you sweetly as you slowly begin to descend from Elysium.

He murmurs satisfyingly. “It’ll be less painful now that you’re so ready for me.” He places soft kisses on your shoulders. “Do you want me to continue?”

You pressed your forehead to his muscular chest and nodded.

He gently lays you on the bed once more, you look at his erection nervously. Like the rest of his body, it is large, hard, and beautiful.

He leans to kiss you and you forget that you're nervous. In a swift move, he puts his hands on your knees, bending them, spreading them apart gently.

“Look at me.”

 You obey. The look on his face is hungry, almost predatory, as he settles between your legs.

You gasp when you feel your Marcus -your General- slowly rubbing against your folds. Coating the tip of his erection in your wetness. You squirm under his torture.

Still keeping your knees spread apart, he bends his body to kiss your mouth. “Even with your incredibly wet response, this will hurt. Tell me when it becomes too much.”

You feel him at your entrance for what feels like an eternity, enjoying the feeling of his erection rubbing your most sensitive spots.

“Surrender,” he commands while gently kissing your face, sensually sliding his hands all over your legs. “Relax.”

You take deep breaths in and out as he kisses first your mouth, then your nipples. He pushes the thick first inch of himself against your tight virgin walls and opens you up. You moan at this foreign sensation and open your eyes wide.

You don't want to say out loud that you don't want him to go deeper, but he reads your body, stops moving and focuses on satisfying the rest of your body while half buried inside you.

His hands have never been as hot on your skin as they are now. He leaves traces on your upper body and makes your body writhe in pleasure. He worships you. He stretches you. He moves slowly, constantly pausing to let your body adjust to him. You breathe sharply, your eyes locked. Your fingernails dig into his back as he starts to penetrate further into you, the pain ripping through your body as you spread to swallow his erection.

Marcus speaks into your neck, his warm breath tingling your skin. “Don't be tense,” he commands in a deep, husky voice that melts you with desire. “Relax, Aya.” He soothes your pain with a long kiss and you open your eyes and feel yourself relax. You love to see him taking your virginity, his beautiful eyes closed on the side of your neck, your body lying vulnerable beneath him. 

When he finally enters you, he lifts his head and looks you up and down, running his hands through your golden hair and looking into your eyes. His pupils dilate. There is a mixture of triumph and tenderness in his eyes.

“You look gorgeous sprawled beneath me.” His breathing is ragged. 

You stay like that for a long time, looking into each other's eyes. Despite the discomfort, you have never felt so close to him and you feel your love for him growing. Similar feelings seem to be burning inside him. The way he is looking at you right now is a combination of admiration, love and lust. You wouldn't change this moment for anything. 

When he feels you are ready, Marcus slowly pulls back, allowing you both to enjoy the painful, exquisite friction. He pushes forward again and you scream at the top of your lungs. The pain is back and you can't decide if this is more pleasure or more pain. All you know is that you don't want him to stop.

A wild growl rises from deep in your throat as he pulls back once more. He groans and slowly thrusts again. And again. Each time in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each time less disturbing and more delicious.

He seems to control himself not to speed up. But it certainly was, Marcus could feel the beast inside him, the beast that was screaming to be released, next time, he thought, not now. His hands leave your knees and grasp your head and kisses you.

It's all too much. The tenderness. The feeling of fullness, the searing warmth of your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The thought that even though he's taking his time with you, he's still hard enough to make you feel like you're his. Beads of sweat cover his handsome face. His wheezing breaths on your neck tells you it won't last long.

Your walls are closing more tightly around him now. You feel him trembling. You feel him being released, calling out to you, emptying herself. His sounds of pleasure are music to your ears.

Marcus stays inside you for a while, breathing hard against the side of your neck. You feel his smile on your skin.

When he finally pulls away, it hurts. Both physically and emotionally. You already miss the warm connection between your bodies. He kisses you again and pulls you against his chest.

This whole experience was incredible and unlike anything you have ever experienced before. Every touch, every sound, you felt his love spreading through your whole body, mind and soul. Even after you left, you will always remember him as the man who made this moment so special. And you feel so grateful for that. You adore him right now and you know that you would do anything for him.

And you will for sure. You will do your best to avoid any misunderstanding or damage to his reputation. At that moment you made a firm decision.

You were sure he wouldn't like it, would even be angry, but you had to do it anyway. Your eyelids felt heavy as you felt the warm breeze from the balcony against your skin, Marcus must have fallen asleep too, lying motionless with his muscular arms around you. You fell into a sweet sleep as you pressed your ear against his chest to listen his heartbeat. 

When you woke up you felt a pressure between your legs, right in the center of your womanhood. Also feeling sore, heavy, and groggy. But you tried to move, even though it was difficult. It was still dark outside, you didn't know how long you had slept, but now you had to get up and move to do the other thing you had wanted to do for so long. But Marcus' thick arms were wrapped around you like a cage. Slowly you raised his arm and tried to slip away. He moved a little but didn't open his eyes, he was still asleep, thankfully.

As you got out of bed you felt wetness between your legs and turned around to look at the sheets. They were quite wet, and a red liquid had spread like spilled wine. You felt the blood boiling under your cheeks. You pressed the part of the sheet between your legs, but was that all? All those fears were for this? A triumphant smile spread across your face. You were sure to feel different now, like you were reborn. After all, from tomorrow there would be no more Aya. You picked up your dress from the floor, quickly put it on and went to the General's wooden chest, the letter was still there. Careful not to make a sound, you pushed aside the blank papers and other papyrus and reached for it. As you held it in your hands and looked at it, then you looked over at Marcus, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed. You wished you could give it to him yourself and have him open it in front of you, but you couldn't be sure of his reaction. You stood up and approached the bed, leaned over and put the letter on the dry side of the sheet so he would see it when he woke up. 

“Forgive me, Marcus,” you whispered. 

But you felt you had to do it, to go to your brother Geta before the day of the meeting and tell him everything, yes it sounded stupid, but you were leaving the letter in good hands, the General’s. And that was your assurance.

For some reason you trusted Geta more in Macrinus. Maybe if you tell him about Macrinus' plans he would be on your side, but it was just a hope, a desperate hope. You didn't want to put Marcus in that kind of danger, knowing that he would be there to defend you and oppose them. Maybe he wouldn't, but no matter what, you were going to go first instead of facing them at the council meeting, yes, that was your final decision. 

After lingering on Marcus' face and beautiful body with your eyes for the last time, you left the room. Your chest tightened with pain, it hurt more than between your legs. 

Love is not the solution to everything. But by accepting love and fighting for it, you gave yourself a reason to hope. Leaving him as Aya to meet him again with your new name and your new self. Septimia Aurelia.

Hope you guys enjoyed with horny moments lol

thank you everyone for all likes and comments <3

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment :) thank you all <3

[angelyuji]

I saw this post

https://www.tumblr.com/angelyuji/760364279022190592/vampire-stan-and-frankensteins-monster?source=share

And I raise you Dr. Frankenstein Ford with Frankenstein's monster reader, but instead of rejecting you he gets a little too invested in his creation....

oh u cooked. i honestly think i started with dr frank ford but i was like technically he’s human but anyway no smut sorry

tw // grooming, dubcon, (i cant think of anymore so pls lmk if i missed any)

he first created you to see if he could create life, to see if his genius is truly that great. then when you first breathed, he felt like he truly created something amazing. you are supposed to be better than him, better than humans. but... he doesn’t really see you as your own person, to him, you are and forever will be his creation.

at first, his goal was just to teach you how to act like a regular joe yk. so when you ask him why you look so different from people outside, he’ll get scared that you’ll be treated like he was when he was younger and he’ll try to scare you into staying inside.

it’ll work, but you’ll grow restless. watching movies and shows about humans making you increasingly more curious. he never lets you watch anything explicit, fearing that it would dirty your pure mind. however, when ford leaves for his research trips, you take the opportunity to watch movies that he had 'hidden' away.

“ford, have you ever kissed anyone before?” ford chokes at the question. you sit across from him.

“why-why are you asking such a thing?” he clears his throat, composing himself. you pout and ford's eyes drift down your lips.

"i saw in the movies that every human does this." he could see the innocence in your eyes, you were truly curious.

ford swallows, carefully choosing his words, "my darling, you shouldn't fall for these things. humans are disgusting, debaucherous creatures. haven't i told you to not watch these silly things?" he shakes his head, hoping you would drop it. you stomp your foot.

"humans are not disgusting!" your eyes well up, "i am disgusting!" you pull at the stapes and stitches holding various parts of you together. ford gets up, trying to stop you. "no one will ever love me." you wail and run off to your room.

ford's so confused on where the sudden shift in your behavior, but hours pass and you remain locked in your room. fearing the worst, ford decides to talk to you.

he sits at the edge of your bed, watching you silently lay. “kissing… and similar things,” you turn to look at him, “are things humans do with people they love. it’s not something that-”

“i love you. does that mean we can kiss?” your eyes shine and something stirred in him.

“no! i mean-” he sees the tears well up.

“you don’t love me?” your voice breaks and his heart stings. he moves to your side. he gently pets your hair, hand falling to rub your cheek affectionately.

“my darling, you are my creation, my world… of course, i love you.” ford coos. you open your mouth to talk and he holds a hand up to stop you. “if this is something you need, i will do this for you…." his hand touches yours, "i would do anything for you.”

GULP ….. anyway

it’s very much a weird situation but… im kinda into it idk

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl: Part 3

Feyd-Rautha x fremen!reader

Notes/Warnings: mentions of blood, injury, death.

Words: 1460

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd POV

He can’t recall a time when nerves have taken over his body the way they do now. Normally, fighting, or the thought of fighting, or witnessing a fight pumps fire through his veins. The anticipation of bloodshed and screams of pain are like the crescendo of a good high, but today, he can’t grab hold of that euphoric feeling. It’s not there, there is nothing to grab hold of, because today, it’s you fighting. 

Feyd sits beside his uncle in the stands as he watches you enter the arena, and immediately, he recognizes his first mistake. The hand not holding your blade is raised to shield your eyes from the brightness of the sun. He should have found a way to train you outside. He should have gotten you used to an environment that is much brighter than your home planet. Though he has no idea how he could have arranged that, if the blinding sunlight is the difference between your life and death, he sees no road to self-forgiveness. 

“You think to take that one for a wife?” the Baron asks as your opponents join you in the arena. The six prisoners enter from three corners, honing in on their prey, but you’ve yet to step into your fighting stance. Your body anxiously twists in all directions to take in the men descending upon you and only you, your hand still acting as a vizor from the light. “She hardly seems capable. She’ll have a blade run through her before five minutes have passed and you will have gathered the masses to witness a bore of a show just like your useless brother.”

Feyd ignores his uncle, knowing the old man speaks only to agitate him. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you finally prepare yourself, spreading your legs, bending your knees, and dropping your hand so it may join its twin around the blade’s hilt. 

One of the men is bolder than the others and he runs ahead. He takes the first swing at you, but you dodge him, ducking under his knife and throwing your arm out as you pass his legs. The sharp edge slices through the back of his thigh, and he instantly drops to his knees. You turn to face his back and thrust your blade downward into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder. When you yank steel from flesh, blood sprays, splattering your thin clothes, and drains down his bare chest. Feyd can see the body heave before it falls. 

There’s the girl who killed my men, Feyd thinks as a rush of claps roars through the crowd at the first death. He knew you hadn’t shown him everything you’re capable of during training. Maybe you just needed the threat of imminent danger to display your full potential. If that’s the case, then fine. Feyd doesn’t need you to prove yourself to him, he needs you to show the people of Giedi Prime the woman they will soon be bowing to. 

The next is the smallest of the six. Skinnier, shorter, but filled to the brim with fury. His anger is his mistake and it’s clear you know it. You don’t fortify yourself. Instead, you watch as he leaves behind the other fighters and charges with a scream that echoes through the arena. A side shift of your body and a quick swipe of your blade and he pauses, his arms go limp, and he stumbles past you. A wash of dark red flows from his neck.  

You rid yourself of three more. Not without difficulty, but you manage. Their bodies are littered around you, the evidence of their demise soaking your form. Your shirt sticks to your figure from the amount of blood weighing down the fabric. Your arms are dyed scarlet from layer after layer of the red fluid. With each of your steps, scarlet prints are left behind. Exhaustion is evident, but you’re not done yet.

The final man is broader, thicker, taller than you and some of the now-dead prisoners combined. He could crush your windpipe with a squeeze from one meaty hand. He could break your bones with a sharp flick of his wrist. All you have to do is stay out of his way. You’re faster and your limbs are leaner; you should be able to outrun him, but you need to move, now, before he traps you against a wall. 

You jump back from his swing, barely evading the sheer power and force that could have cut you right down the middle. Before you can recover from the attack, he leaps at you. You fall onto your back, blade skittering out of reach. Feyd swallows hard. He refuses to blink. 

“Well, this doesn’t look good for your girl, does it?” the Baron says, sucking at his pipe.

Feyd wishes he could disagree, but you haven’t found your footing. You’re crawling backward, trying to gain some distance from the predatory stalk of a confident aggressor. A blade swipes toward your face. You turn your head, receiving a slash across the cheek, and from how quickly you bleed, it appears deep. At least your head is still attached to your shoulders. 

You kick at his knee, knocking the joint out of place and momentarily rendering him unable to take another step. With the spare second, you scurry to your knife, getting your hand on it just as you’re yanked back by your ponytail. Feyd winces at your shriek, fingernails digging crescents into his palms, jaw aching from his clenching teeth.

Your head wacks against the ground and you’re eyes pinch shut. Potential concussion. You’re disoriented. You need to move. Move, Fremen Girl, Feyd internally snaps, but you’re not moving. The man towers above you, his feet on either side of your thighs. Feyd leans forward in his seat. Your eyelids slowly flutter. 

“Move,” Feyd mutters. 

The man’s whole body goes into the downward jab of his blade. He expects the pointed tip to land right between your eyes, but when you twist out of the way at the last second, it clashes with the ground. The over-expenditure of force knocks him off-balance and he falls on top of you, his chest slamming into yours, crushing you entirely.

Jumping to his feet, Feyd rushes to the edge of the balcony. The crowd is silent. He can’t breathe. Are you breathing? You better be fucking breathing, Fremen girl.

Suddenly, your knees bend and with the last of your strength, you roll the man onto his back, your thighs straddling his hips. His jaw is slack. His arms flop to his sides. Your knife is plunged into his chest. Then with both hands wrapped around the hilt, you pull out and stab into his heart once more, this time twisting the blade. 

As the crowd erupts in cheers, Feyd finally exhales. His shoulders release their tension. 

You stand on wobbly legs and wipe the back of your hand across your scarlet cheek. You’ll need stitches, but you’re alive. Feyd turns, heading for the stairs so he can meet you at your extraction from the arena.

“Not yet, nephew,” the Baron stops him. 

Feyd glances over his shoulder to find his uncle’s gaze still fixed on where you stand. Feyd’s brow pinches and he eases back to the balcony railing as three more prisoners stumble into the arena. The crowd dies into silence. His head whips to his uncle. 

“What is this!” he spits. “What did you do! She’s done!”

“She is done when I say she’s done,” the Baron says, sucking at his pipe once more. “Now sit down and watch the show, or should she live, I will give her to Rabban.”

“You will not!” Feyd shouts. “All of Giedi Prime knows the challenge you set and she met it! She is mine now and I say she's done! Bother Rabban if you want more entertainment!”

The Baron won’t argue further, not now. People were shocked enough that Feyd’s first potential bride would have to face six prisoners compared to the three for his brother’s brides. Whispers of gossip were uncontrollable and even managed to make their way through the halls, passing from servant to servant. They questioned the integrity of the Trial if centuries-old rules could be changed for one woman, and altering them again after you’ve won would be a great disappointment to all who witnessed. The Baron’s thirst for excitement has made him forget that, but Feyd is happy to remind him. 

The crowd suddenly gasps and Feyd turns his head. You’re trying to step away from the prisoners, but those steps are wobbly. The knife has slipped from your grasp. Feyd rushes off to the entrance of the arena.

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

Lol as someone who actually works in the industry: you guys are very, very naive if you believe a tumblr blog would tell you secrets about the behind the scenes of Bridgerton for a bubble of specific fans, and even less that someone who actually have access to executives would be around telling so many incorrect stuff that can be proven wrong with some clicks. And would tell you about the actors that way, while working for Netflix. It's hilarious because production is segmented, there are different crews as well, and it simply wouldn't have production/executive inside information if it worked close enough to the actors day by day to know them, and they wouldn't work with all of them to know them personally, repeatedly in the way it says, as the teams are the same for a long time and they all have made their opinions on actors very clear. It's so stupid that it made the mistake of telling you all it doesn't work with crew. They really don't know how a production of a show works and it's funny to see anyone believing it. Then again, only Kanthony and Benophy fans do.

Not only that, contradicting not simply Netflix's news of profitability and success of Season 3, but in fact, actual market news and data releases, Investments prospects, and investors reports, plus licensing, that anyone with any inside information would know it's done publicly and show the actual success and profit delivered by Season 3. To even try to say it lost money, Lol. The data is there, if you worked in a exec. position, even management position, you wouldn't say something so ignorant.

Critically, official certified critics, and audience numbers averaged above Season 2 and on par with Season 1, and you can also check the aggregate of that on RT, IMDB, sites that reunited and average the score. Audience is measured not only by Netflix, but Luminate and Nielsen. Data that is ALSO PUBLIC. And that showed the successful amount of views, specially recovering audience that Season 2 had lost. It was also superior to QC. Netflix also ranks #6 ( above Season 2, again) as their most viewed seasons. Another public information.

It becomes evident you're dealing with a fan of Anthony and Kate and Sophie and Benedict when it spills target hate for particular actors, with nonsense that is so painfully clear from a fandom member, a mere angry fan trying with a insane agenda.

That's the problem when someone has an agenda against some actors and some fictional characters, a TV show, specifically a season. They throw away logic and believe anyone.

There is no insider, you have actual market information and investors/ experts that are not even Netflix connected telling you the success of season 3. Anyone who works for the industry would know that. Lol

There is no inside information of actors from that person. All cast and crew, and connected workers, and adjacents from media, PR and more, have their words and testaments to the cast and crew openly at their socials, dismantling their obsessive nonsense, contradicting them. I contradict them, lol, as i've actually met some of them and know their work ethics and behavior.

And most importantly, the so-called ''insider'' is not even from or in the UK…yes, i know exactly what i am talking about. But for now, i wont publish. For now.

Just be aware of bullshit and propaganda with fanwar nonsense. You're dealing with someone who is simply a discontent Kanthony & Benophy fan, and a Simone fan and hater of other actors in the show ( VERY OBVIOUS THE TARGETED HATE), connected ( lol very much connected) to a blog who has adopted the name of "Anti" since the start, who hates Polin. Some people just want to create a narrative, and while they say that Benedict is the most popular and wanted character for the GA, try to justify an eventual less number say it would be S3 fault, when S3 actually revamped the numbers from S2 and had incredible profitability ( again, public data).

But be aware that we know with 100% certainty, people like that do not work for Netflix. They don't even have a clue what a netflix contract is and how it works.

Also, a warning: People should have their faces and real names on when they say things, responsibility is a must, don't you all agree? Sometimes people think they are protected under the anonymity of a tumblr url to lie their hearts out and become desperate later when they have to own personally, with their actual faces and real names, and social reputation, the stupidity of their words.

And in a more fundamental sense, grow up. Tomorrow, someone else can simply create a blog telling the opposite about your favorites, their work, their seasons, it's a game nobody wins when fans act that desperate and stupid, lying and manipulating.

Or worse: perhaps someone with actual information can start posting, and you wouldn't like what they have to say…reflect on that.