#legacies 4 smut

[animasola86]

Smutmas: Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine!)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x m!reader

Genre: Angst/Smut // Words: 3.9k // [Read on AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Hate sex, oral, anal, mutual masturbation, double the amount of dicks!

Synopsis: You and Sebastian are both flawed boys and there is only one way to let out that pent-up frustration.

Notes: Beware: I am entering my explicit gay porn era! But hear me out: I, as the author, identify as female (and do not possess any male genitalia), and I believe most of my audience does too, but I wanted to try something new, so here we go. Don't worry, I did my research, yet I hope it was enough to convey what is going on.

Last warning: There's gay smut below! Read at your own risk!

Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine)

“You insufferable little shit!” you could hear Sebastian's voice behind you. As you turned around, you saw him stomping right at you. You recognised his angry stance immediately.

“What did I do?” you asked innocently, putting your hands on your hips as you waited for him to reach you. You wondered how you angered the Slytherin this time (until the memory came back to you), though it didn't really matter either way, because when he stopped right in front of you, he glared at you out of dark eyes, working his jaw, and then grabbed your tie and pulled you unceremoniously after him. “Hey, easy!” you tried again as you stumbled along but to no avail.

Moments later, you found yourself being pushed into an empty classroom, heard the door being closed and enchanted, so no one would disturb you. You should have been more surprised, or even alarmed, but you knew the drill. This wasn't the first time Sebastian Sallow took his anger out on you.

Frankly, you were kind of hoping he would find you after you had convinced Madam Scribner that it had been Sebastian who was responsible for a bookshelf to collapse and burst into flames in the library the other day – when it had been you all along because you were still struggling to control that blasted ancient magic coursing through your veins, and sometimes things just happened, mostly destructive things.

And because it was easier to distract yourself rather than to deal with a problem head-on, a notion you certainly shared with the brunet pinning you to the wall right now, you often found yourself in his presence when you needed to take care of the steam threatening to burst free.

“You landed me a week in detention!” he growled and stared at you.

You raised your eyebrows. “Only a week? She threatened to expel me if I didn't tell --”

“So you admit that you blamed me? For something you did, presumably? You bastard!” Sebastian grunted and grabbed your shoulder to turn you around, pressing your chest against the wall. “You could have just asked to spend time together, you know?” he added in a lower voice as his hand slipped down the front of your breeches, his fingers expertly gliding over the stiff fabric.

He was right of course. You started doing those stunts to see him, meet him in detention, meet him anywhere really, because you couldn't think of anyone else who you could share your anger and frustration with than the boy behind you. You'd been to hell and back together these last years, and somehow when things got really bad, you always found yourself next to him, very, very close to him.

If anyone had ever told you that you would feel the most relaxed with another boy's dick up your arse, then you would have laughed and felt ashamed and frankly would not have believed them. But it was true. Anger sex was your go-to method of calming down again.

So you forced yourself to play along, counter his rage, defy it as best as you could with your cock already throbbing against the tight confines of your trousers. Even though your frustration had been running high these last days, causing the outburst in the library, you felt your own anger deflating the moment you felt Sebastian's hand palming your crotch roughly. Actually you always seemed to ease up the moment you saw his warm eyes on you or heard his voice in your ear.

Yet you'd never tell him how he made you feel, you wanted him to hate you, you wanted the unbridled wrath he could unleash upon you. So you kept pranking him, teasing him, angering him in any way or form. Because deep down you knew he needed it as well. He needed someone to handle the conflicting emotions running through him, chewing on his insides, destroying him slowly from within, ever since things went downhill in your fifth year.

Sebastian had lost everything that year and had found himself in a very dark place that only you had been brave enough to enter. Mainly because you were there too, for different reasons, but you still shared the rage coursing through your veins. The grief, the anger, the disappointment, the feeling of being all alone in the world, trying to shoulder things you were too young and inexperienced to handle.

It had been the end of the year, everyone had been exhilarated to celebrate the House Cup, to leave Hogwarts for the summer holidays, but you had found yourself huddled away, still in disbelief that you had lost your mentor and that everyone else seemed to have forgotten about it rather quickly. The battle of Hogwarts was no longer on the front pages, everyone had moved on. Yet you couldn't, because you still felt the energy pulsing through you of when you had absorbed Isidora's corrupted magic.

While you had tried to figure out what to do next now that the Keepers had abandoned you for defying them, you had met another lost soul in the dimly lit hallway. Sebastian had still been dealing with the loss and abandonment of his sister, the broken friendship with Ominis and the outrage that had killed his uncle, so when you two had met each other in the shadows while everyone else celebrated the end of the year, you had quickly found yourself in a dark corner, with no word spoken between you as he had rammed his cock into your underprepared arse.

The pain had numbed your anger, and quickly you had become addicted to the sensation. And now, two years later, you had made it a habit of completely driving him insane, bring out his rage, to feel it all over again. You both knew why you'd do it also and somehow he still played along, though you knew he was secretly impressed by your creativity of finding new ways to get him to hate you.

“Where's the fun in just asking you out?” you muttered back as he proceeded to grope you through your breeches. “You know I hate being boring...”

“Oh I know you do,” he grunted into your ear as he pressed his groin against your arse. “Can't do anything the normal way...”

“What's normal anyway?” you whispered as your hand moved around to grab at his thigh. “Definitely not this...”

“No, definitely not this,” he repeated and you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he leaned in to bite at your pulse. You couldn't help but wince when his teeth nibbed at your sensitive skin and frankly you were past hiding all those little twitches he was able to coax out of you.

“It wouldn't be the same,” you started, taking another sharp breath as you felt his fingers undoing your buttons before slipping into the newly created opening to tease at your dick. “I can't even imagine doing this normally with you. What would that look like? Would you buy me flowers and treat me to a nice meal? Out on a cosy date in Hogsmeade for everyone to see? Would you --”

“For Merlin's sake, shut up already!” he grunted, pushing you against the wall as he let go of you. You couldn't help the smirk from playing around the corner of your lips. He saw it when he suddenly spun you around by the shoulders once more, glaring at you out of those dark eyes that made you weak in the knees (not that you would have ever admitted to that). “You really like to hear yourself talk, eh?”

You scoffed and merely glared back at him. Shaking his head, he then grabbed your waist and forced your breeches down, your undergarments with it, and when you stood in front of him, literally butt naked, it was his turn to smirk at you. With his hand on your shoulder, he pushed you down until you were on your knees, looking up with your smug expression unfaltering.

“Look at you,” he muttered, tilting his head. “You pathetic little worm, kneeling in front of me with your trousers down like a bloody whore. Use that damn mouth of yours for better things, why don't you!”

Your hands were at the buttons of his breeches before he even stopped talking down at you. Undoing them with nimble fingers, you quickly freed his hardening erection from its confines and grabbed it roughly, causing him to stumble slightly. He shot you an even darker glance, but didn't say anything as he watched you do what you seemed to be doing best, at least in his eyes.

Leaning in with your eyes fixed on his freckled face, you gave his shaft a long skim of your tongue, taking in every single little reaction you caused in him. One hand moved up to cup his balls and give them a tight squeeze before you grabbed his length with the other and stroked it expertly as you focused the movement of your tongue to his tip, circling and lapping at it, sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin until you heard the first little groan escaping him.

The sound vibrated through your entire body and you leaned back and watched him curiously, licking your lips as you did so. Your hand kept moving, firmly pushing his skin up and down, until you pressed your thumb to his slit and forced the first droplets of precum out of him. A shiver rushed through him and you saw him clenching his fists at his sides.

You leaned back in and closed your lips around the agitated crown of his cock, tasting and smelling that special musk you cherished so much, that would make your own body shudder in excitement. Of course you held back for now, focusing on him while your own dick stood tall and proud, bumping against your lower stomach with every bob of your head as you pushed yourself onto him and took him into your mouth as deep as possible.

As you felt him pressing against the back of your throat, you closed your eyes and held your breath, but you fought your gag reflex for now and pushed further until your nose was buried in his curly hairs. He grunted loudly as you forced his tip into your tight throat and when you leaned back again, you spluttered slightly and wiped a strand of saliva off your lips as you looked up at him.

He watched you darkly as you continued stroking him with a firm grasp, before you dove back in and repeated the same motion over and over again, each time holding him longer and deeper in your throat until you felt your eyes watering and his body shuddering more and more.

“Fuck!” he spat and grabbed your shoulders in support, his fingers digging into your shirt as he jerked his hips against your face.

You relished in his noises and involuntarily reactions as you kept bobbing your head on him, moving with the slight bucking of his hips, feeling him hardening to the point more and more precum leaked out of his tip. You lapped at it hungrily, the wet slurping noises filling the empty classroom.

Suddenly he gripped your hair and pulled you off him, red spots dancing on his cheeks as he stared down at you. “Get up and turn around,” he told you gruffly and you got to your feet and did what he told you, your trousers still pooling around your ankles as he positioned himself behind you.

He pushed his hard erection between your cheeks and leaned around you, grabbing your previously unattended dick with a fierce grip as he started stroking you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his shallow breaths right in your ear. You couldn't help the shivers running down your spine at the sensations and the little moan escaping your slightly aching throat. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch, even pushed your rear against him invitingly.

Not that Sebastian Sallow needed a formal invitation to do anything, he always took what he wanted, and right now, it was to drive his cock into your arse. With one hand on your dick, giving you those needed pumps, his other hand moved around your left butt cheek, groping and kneading it until he teased his thumb against the tight ring of muscles. You inhaled sharply when he pushed past the resistance and forced his digit in deeper.

You felt your legs trembling when he poked around until he pressed firmly against your prostate, coaxing a deep grunt out of you that made you stumble against his touch. You almost came right in his hand there, but then he pulled his thumb out and even let go of your dick, before grabbing your hips and guiding you back towards his cock.

Swallowing hard, you realized you were never really prepared for his intrusion and even though he had gotten better at making it less painful over the last years, it would still always take your breath away when he would fill your arse. This time he pushed his tip firmly against your tight hole and you inhaled deeply, trying to relax, before he used a sharp snap of his hips to push his length all the way into you until you felt his balls slapping against your sensitive skin.

A groan escaped you and you had to put your hands on the wall in front of you in support as he dug his fingers into your hips and just rested there for a moment, buried deep in your bum, giving you the chance to adjust to his size. He had gotten softer for sure, you thought, the Sebastian from two years ago wouldn't have given a damn about how much pain he would inflict on you, he might even have opted to make you suffer more than was necessary.

But this version of the boy behind you seemed to listen for your noises, wait for the shudders of your body to subside, before he finally started moving. Slowly retreating, until his tip was gripped by your tight entrance, then pushing back in with a quick jerk of his hips, back and forth, over and over again until you heard yourself moaning louder.

His hands were on your waist as the slapping of skin against skin filled your ears and all you could feel was the relentless rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of your arse and his pelvis slamming against your cheeks. You were groaning and moaning in unison now, a low rumble of noises mixing with the sounds of your bodies pushing together.

You felt light-headed quickly, but even in your haze, you felt the need to lower a hand and grab onto your own dick to release a little bit of that tension. Yet at the same time he had slowed his movements and leaned around to grab it too, your hands touching involuntarily. Despite the rather rough nature of your 'love making', it still sent pleasant shivers down your spine when his fingers would brush against yours, be it in class or the library when you reached for the same book, or in the middle of having him rail you into the wall, it always felt exhilarating.

Instead of withdrawing or slapping your hand away, he slipped his fingers between yours and guided them towards your cock so you started to stroke your throbbing member together. More moans escaped your throat and you couldn't help but lean your head against his shoulder as you felt your balls tightening under the combined ministrations of your hands.

He buried himself deep in your clenching arse and started grinding his hips slowly, pushing his girth against your sensitive muscles and all the right spots. You grunted deeply, biting your lip as all the sensations at once caused your dick to twitch in your combined hold. He seemed to notice your struggle to move on your own, so he kept stroking you fiercely, his own grunts loud in your ear, and when you came with a low growl, he wrapped his arm around your stomach and held you close, keeping you steady as you felt thick ropes of cum spurting out of your tip and dripping down both of your hands.

He let you rest for a small moment, holding you tightly as you leaned against him, his breath hot on your cheek as he turned his head towards you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, panting badly, and when your eyes met, there seemed to be another one of those unspoken agreements you both had perfected over the last years.

You saw him smirk and then he let go of you and pushed you back against the wall, his hands on your hips, before he continued to move inside you once more, slow at first, but then faster and faster, as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your tight space with reckless abandon. Your noises of quiet whimpers and deep moans mixed with his grunts and the never-ending slapping of skin against skin when he fell into a rapid rhythm of slamming his hips against your cheeks.

There was the power you had needed, the raw emotion, the unbridled rage, as he rammed his cock into you at an impressively fast and deep rhythm, his length and girth stretching and prodding your muscles with each powerful thrust. You fought against the sensation, forcing your legs to stop trembling beneath you, your entire body tense from the experience.

But this was what you had wanted, all of it, and you craved the pain that came when your muscles started contracting around him, working against you instead of with you. You could have relaxed and let him have it, it would have been so easy, but you were too stubborn and frankly quite the masochist, because you needed every aching muscle, every screaming nerve, every burning sensation.

It was the only thing that kept you from losing your mind. And so you gritted your teeth and strained your arms against the wall as he kept rocking your body back and forth, over and over again, his grunts mixing with yours, as his fingers dug painfully into your hips, his balls slapping against you as his cock moved in and out relentlessly, the delicious heat of the friction driving you almost insane with pleasure.

You felt your dick harden all over again, but you couldn't give it any attention at this moment because it was Sebastian's turn to let go. With a loud growl, he gave you one final powerful thrust that rippled through your entire body as he buried himself as deep as possible before you felt his cock throbbing and twitching as he emptied himself inside your tight arse, his hot seed filling you up completely.

He kept grunting as more and more shudders rushed through him, more and more cum spurting out of him and into you, and as you savoured the warm feeling spreading inside you, you lowered a shaking hand and gave your own dick a few much needed squeezes before you came as well again, your body spasming against his as you leaned your sweaty forehead against the wall, unable to stop your legs from shaking beneath you this time.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to catch your breath, while the boy behind you leaned his entire weight on your back, his arms snaking around your stomach as he held onto you, his cock still twitching inside you. You let him have this rather tender moment and closed your eyes, but as soon as you relaxed against him and even raised a hand to put on his arm, a gesture that was usually too intimate for your liking, he retreated again, standing up straight and slowly pulling out of your clenching hole.

You let out another moan and a surprised grunt when he suddenly slapped your butt cheek with his flat hand, the pain rippling through you deliciously. It didn't however mask the emptiness you felt with his cock no longer lodged inside your bum, and without his girth, your muscles worked hard to move back into their original form, causing his seed to pump out of you relentlessly.

You rather enjoyed the warm sensation of being so full, but gravity and whatever other forces worked ruthlessly against you, leaving you to desire this whole spectacle all over again. Sighing deeply, you eventually leaned down to grab your trousers and undergarments, ready to pull them back up, but before you could do anything, you were suddenly spun around, almost stumbling against Sebastian as he pushed your bare backside against the wall, his eyes boring into yours.

Despite the intense gaze, you couldn't help but break eye contact and look down his front. His spent cock was still out, glistening in your combined juices, yet your eyes lingered on his wand in his hand. For a moment you wondered what he wanted to do, and when he grabbed your throat with his free hand you were really concerned for a second, but he only held you in place while he moved his wand over your soiled skin and cleaned your mutual messes.

You watched him intently, despite the tight grip of his fingers this might have been the gentlest gesture you witnessed him express towards you ever. He usually left you a shuddering, defiled mess (and you were there for it), but having him wash you so thoroughly, was certainly something else. When he was done, he pocketed his wand and let go of your throat, only to bend down and grab your breeches before he pulled them back up and helped you get dressed again.

You were more than confused, yet somehow oddly intrigued by this turn of events. As he grabbed your dick and shoved it back behind the confines of your trousers, you raised your hands and did the same to him. He seemed equally surprised and your eyes met for a long, heated moment. Despite sharing the most intimate desires of both of your bodies, you had never indulged in the more romantic kinds of affection, like kissing or hand holding or even hugging, in that order.

Both of you had resorted to the most extreme type of being together and never looked back, but standing before Sebastian now, staring into his dark eyes, you felt the need to take several steps back and redefine your relationship. Might also be the post-nut clarity, you weren't sure. Whatever it was, the moment quickly faded when he took a literal step back from you and tilted his head, looking you over grimly.

“Next time you need to do this, just send me an owl or something,” he told you gruffly and moved a hand through his messy hair. “I really can't have you ruin my reputation any further.”

“What reputation?” you replied with a low chuckle and a smirk. “I'm only adding to the already existing one... You did that to yourself.”

He groaned and gave you a glare, before he turned around and headed to the door. “I mean it...” he called back over his shoulder.

“I know,” you said and watched him leave. “Expect my owl then.”

Sooner than later, you wanted to add, but you didn't want to come across as too desperate. Though he probably already knew that and frankly you couldn't care less. You needed him as much as he needed you. Not just his cock up your bum, the entire package. And perhaps there was even one of those chaste kisses for you in the future, who knew.

End notes: I've always been a yaoi lover and it still took me more than seven months of being in this fandom to actually write something like this, oh well.

I was certainly channeling the snarky boy that is the male mc when writing this, I can just hear his voice taunting Seb.

Again I took inspiration from this Smutmas prompts list, so here we have Day 4: Anal and Hate Sex. As you can see I'm not doing those in order or even consistently, I just write them as they come (out of my brain).

Thank you for reading!

By the way, I have three other oneshots that are not exclusively female oriented, but gender neutral:

The Ghost under the Table (a bj in the library)

Just Breathe (an angsty love confession)

Just another adventure, right? (angsty first kiss)

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow x reader #reader insert #sebastian sallow x m!mc #male reader #smutmas 2023 #smutmas #smutmas day 4

[tearfest]

open to: anyone, 21+! plot: your muse just asked maritza a shady question relating to a case she's currently working on that they definitely shouldn't know about! connection could be anything — platonic, strangers, friends, partners, etc.

ㅤㅤ" listen, i don't know what it is exactly that you think you're asking of me. you know i'm legally not allowed to discuss an ongoing case with anyone that's off thee case. so why should i do it for you? "

#indie smut rp #indie kink rp #indie rp #open starter. #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ maritza: discourse. #pretty pls gimme a reason 4 maritza to go corrupt < 3 #she'd totally break the law 4 some good s*x ! sjdfjsdf #posted with beta but legacy is welcome !

[cakepoppresent]

Face card NEVA declines. Not EVA

#my sims #sims 4 #sims 4 cas #sims 4 creator #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 maxis match #sims 4 legacy #sims #sims 4 screenshots #chubby reader smut

[hibarisims]

I imagine that Mollie writes secret fanfic and publishes it online

#alsksks #I love that kind of scenario #the popular girl has a secret hobby of writing weird ass fanfic online #you can decide whether it’s all fluff or smut #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 screenshots #ts4 legacy #gameplay #sims 4 legacy #ts4 story #monroelegacy #monroegen3

[superconductivebean]

#746: несу фанфик!

Вспоминая Карлайл - 1

Имельда Рейес х фем!эмси х Поппи Свитинг

Описание: это kinktober, тут кинки, сюжета не искать; но фичок как-бэ имеет отношение к одному долгострою, но и читать можно без каких-то вводных, кроме игровых. Эмся названная — Джулия.

Килослов: 3.1к

Фичеринг: фемслеш!пвп хот смут про дрочку в душе, упоминаются intrusive thoughts и трисам сех, происходит кинк дев��лопмент; три раза звучит слово «пиз��а»; смут во флешбеках > смут в настоящем, ну такое ощущение субъективное. А, и тут все совершеннолетние. Slice of Life, Fluff, Established Relationship, да и всё. Рейтинг: 18+ / Explicit / NC-17 / R-18

Бесцеремонно прижатой щекой к сырому кафелю в душевых Джулия оказывалась только в своих самых неспокойных снах.

Как во снах, грубоватые пальцы Имельды так же врезались в упругие мышцы её спины, больно ползли вдоль позвоночника вниз, сдавливали ягодицы и пробегались по вдоль напряжённых бёдер. И как во снах, Имельда не стеснялась, призрачно касаясь и ладонь занеся, чтобы через пару секунд звучно шлёпнуть, шумной ухмылкой одобрить её податливость и нашептать непристойностей в подставленное ухо.

Но совсем не как во сне жёсткая дуга сильной ладони протиснулась между её разведённых ног и удобно легла вдоль разгорячённой, взмокшей плоти.

— Джулия, — горячий шёпот Имельды обжёг ей ухо, и её губы тут же поймали её выдох в коротком поцелуе. — Руки по обе стороны от головы. Будешь ныть, заткну.

Прогуливаясь по бёдрам Имельды своими руками, упираясь в её шаловливые пальцы и ёрзая на её ладони, Джулия посмеялась:

— Мелли, ну зачем так жестоко…

— Затем, что у тебя есть мы, но позабавиться ты решила со своей рукой!

В основании зубы Имельды больно сомкнулись и потянули за собой глубоко сидевший в груди низкий, застывший в горле вибрацией стон. Голос Имельды оставался в ушах злым эхом в шуме воды, пока её пальцы беззастенчиво шарились между ног, по-хозяйски протискивались во влагалище на фалангу, выскользнув, скользким теплом обжимали клитор и проскальзывали по его твёрденькой головке.

Робкими, дрожащими своими пальцами Джулия накрыла её хамскую ладонь, другой обжимая жавшую грудь; и не стой прижатой к стене, Джулия предпочла бы уложить затылок Имельде на плечо.

Ей казалось, секвенции судорожных вздохов выстраивались Имельдой в звенья длинной мелодии её судорожных вздохов; её стонов и просьб поцеловать или сжать посильнее, не стесняться.

— Руки у головы! — строго повторила Имельда, и Джулия робко подчинилась, слизнув улыбку со своих губ. — Умница.

Получасом ранее Джулия зашла в душевые самой последней.

Только вчера утром она прогуливалась по Косой аллее, ела мороженое с Поппи и яро спорила о чём-то с Имельдой по дороге в банк. В обед они втроём сели на Хогворц Экспресс, и, попрощавшись с мистером Рейесом и бабулей Поппи, забрались в самое дальнее купе, подальше от любопытствовавших глаз и шума; как и многие другие семикурсники, подуставшие от суетности, окружавшей неблизкий путь гамом студентов младших курсов и перешёптыванием заядлых сплетников.

Восемь часов в дороге назад, на Гленфиннан, Джулии показались изнурительно долгими.

Девчонки были с ней согласны. Сначала они принялись причитать, но скоро недовольство сменилось непристойными шутками; сочинением строчек вульгарному лимерику, мнениями, которое не выскажешь в приличном обществе. Развлечение себя исчерпало не успел Экспресс добраться до Ливерпуля.

Каждая хотела укорить другую: могли бы встретиться неделей раньше и спокойно перебраться в Хогсмид со всеми вещами, а оттуда спокойно дойти до замка вечером первого числа. Однако ни одна не могла высказать её вслух: для Джулии осень тысяча восемьсот девяносто третьего была последней возможностью отправиться в Хогворц, как все; на Экспрессе, а не в запряжённой фестралами карете или пешком из Хогсмида, мило беседуя с профессором Шарпом о предстоявшем, точно небогатом на события, тысяча восемьсот девяносто первом годе.

Вид за окном быстро приковал к себе внимание Джулии.

Поппи тотчас принялась рассказывать, какие твари водились в округе и на каком участке пути от Бирмингема до Манчестера чаще всего видели уэльских зелёных драконов из окон, смотревших на запад, — и как часто такой дракон ошибочно принимал облака дыма у локомотива за овцу.

В неловкой тишине, вдруг напавшей на купе, Поппи продолжала свой рассказ с выразительностью, с которой увлечённые лекторы обычно делятся со студентами опытом, удачным и ужасным. Имельда и Джулия иногда переглядывались, загадочно улыбаясь, но скорее собственным мыслям, а не друг другу. Каждая из них могла вдруг неостановимо заговорить о мётлах и стратегии, зельях и выкройках. Поппи органично смотрелась в их компании, — скромно умолчим в этой описательной части, что в такой формулировке следовало писать Имельду, как позднее дополнение амура Поппи и Джулии, — однако именно её рассказ чаще прочих заставлял недоумённо скосить брови; хлопнув глазами, немо и нервно спросить, так ли необходимо каждый раз упоминать судьбу очередного Локомотива, в очередной же раз подверженного не иначе Божьей каре за какой-то страшный Грех.

Где-то на обсуждении таксономической разницы виверны и амфиптерия Имельда, вдруг заритворствовав, всхрапела и напомнила: Ланкастер — позади, а от Глазго до Гленфиннана — рукой подать, и даже зайди Экспресс на крюк через Абердин и Инвернесс, им останутся считанные часы в пути до Хогворца; пора бы всем приодеться по магической моде и вспомнить, что Хогворц не Лондон! — и вперилась в Джулию не терпевшим возражений взглядом.

Джулия, оправив корсаж с пышным рукавом, согласилась, а произошедшее у Карлайла осталось в Карлайле.

Однако воспоминание о пылких поцелуях и всего лишь просьбе помочь расшнуровать корсет, — чтобы не выглядеть в Большом зале как набросившая факультетский азурит на плечи жеманница, — покидать её налитую тяжестью усталости голову отказывалось с решительным упрямством.

А следовавшим утром субботы — уроков по субботам никогда не ставили — мадам Когава распорядилась: присутствовавшим в Большом зале игрокам факультетских сборных — размяться перед началом сезона.

Получасом ранее, изобразив на лице усталость и сонливость, будто двухчасовой разогрев с игроками других сборных прошёл как четыре часа Зелий, Джулия зашла в душевые самой последней.

Первое сентября тысяча восемьсот девяносто третьего изнурило её, и второго сентября, насидевшись и налетавшись на метле, пообжимав крепкое древко бёдрами, в душевой Джулия изнемогла под мягкой лаской собственных пальцев.

Если бы Джулия только знала, что Имельда ради неё решит задержаться, лишь для вида подавшись за остальными слизеринцами к выходу; если бы знала — дождалась и, стерпев, оторвала от себя руки, чтобы приглашающе развести, а не почувствовать запястьями прохладный кафель, а затем острое и наглое колено между подкашивавшихся ног. Может, впрочем, в том и был замысел Имельды: так, яростно хлопнув дверью и напугав, накинуться, не боясь, что кто-то зайдёт и увидит их пылкий поцелуй, услышит скабрёзности за шумом воды и различит в страстной полифонии за высокими нотами чавкающих поцелуев чпоки встречавшей гладкую поверхность бедра вульвы.

А потом Джулия почувствовала кафель щекой, резко развёрнутая, — и под лаской Имельды она вилась, как сбегавшие по сте��е струи воды.

— Мелли… — Ладонь Имельды плотно накрыла рот. — Мм!..

Имельда прошептала:

— Не ной, или, как жму соски, будешь представлять. Или о стену натрёшь. Выбирай, как тебе больше нравится.

Её ладонь съехала на подбородок. В недолгую секунду, отведённую на ответ, Джулия попросила о поцелуе.

Имельда уложила голову на её острое плечо и прижалась губами к скуле.

Рисуя круги вокруг твёрдо чувствовавшейся головки клитора, размазывая тёплый секрет по ногам, натирая разогретую кожу и заодно придерживая вихлявший её зад, она поиздевалась:

— А заслужила, так думаешь?

— Ну, Мерлин… — содрогнулась Джулия, сжавшись вокруг её жёсткой ладони. — Ты серьёзно?

— Да, как всегда, — она улыбнулась. — Не я ныла себе же в губы, как соскучилась и всё тому подобное, лезла, о бедро тёрлась.

— Я ныла и я ною, но ещё никто меня не ревновал к моей же руке!

Имельда усмешливо прошептала: «А у тебя так много любовниц было!» — и вполголоса сказала:

— Поэтому они обе теперь там, где я их вижу. — Джулия упиралась в кафель ногтями и царапала стену; рисунок вен отчётливым рельефом проступал на бледной коже её запястий. — Поняла?

— Поняла что? — притворилась Джулия и, почувствовав руку под челюстью, послушно замолчала.

Имельда не ревновала её к рукам, но к самой мысли о самоублажении питала некоторую… брезгливость. Изнуряющей, колючей лаской, от которой по ногам сбегали вязкие горячие капли, она хотела напомнить: с кем-то — веселее, чем одной. Джулия не могла, не хотела с ней спорить: она была права.

Однако на этот раз Имельда вложила какую-то новую, пугающую импликацию в свою извечную претензию вымещать пыл на чужие, а не свои пальцы; или, хотя бы, убедиться, что пара вожделевших глаз прикована к её телу и неотрывно следит за каждым, малейшим движением.

— Не нравится мне, как ты себя стала вести. Совсем распоясалась! Нужно тебе указать на твою жёрдочку. Или сунуть её тебе в зубы.

— Мелли, ну что ты такое говоришь, — рассмеялась Джулия.

Импликатив заставил её в предвкушении замереть и медленную ласку, пробежавшую от клитора к тугой мышце промежности, считать, как жест выражения какой-то новой эмоции. Нового пожелания.

Взгляд Имельды горел странным вожделением, перед которым хотелось медленно сползти на залитый пол и сесть на коленях.

Джулия проглотила комочек слюны и задумалась. Она чаще подчинялась порыву, чем его вела; неслась в этой страсти, как в потоке бурной реки — будучи при том сама, как та река, как та дикая примордиальная сила, толкавшая её воды вперёд.

Сплавляться вместе с ней к примату наслаждения, со слов Имельды, похоже на небольшое, но завлекательное приключение, — только иногда её голос будто грозил сорваться в обыкновенную насмешку и больно уколоть, напомнив не расслабляться, как с Поппи. Имельде словно не доставало одной ей понятной предсказуемости — такой, которую чувствуешь, сидя на метле высоко над полем посреди матча и точно знаешь, где заканчивается умение играть и начинается всевероятный случай. Для зрителей и некоторых соперниц, обычно, это выглядело как полный и неотъёмный контроль над квоффлом и всей-всей-всей игрой.

Такой предсказуемости, чувствовала Джулия, которую ощущаешь, нависнув над кем-то. Над Поппи.

Но то, чего вдруг возжелала Имельда, было чем-то другим.

Она хотела не отдаться потоку той страсти, а подчинить его себе — и указать ему направление, и следить за меандром, и сплавиться по собственносозданному течению и не ради очаровательного впадения в романтичную дельту оргазма, — но самого пути к ней по порогам, безветрию и засухам, и тоже называя чарующую развязку — приматом наслаждения.

— Из нас двоих метлу под собой распускаешь ты, но наказать за что-то хочешь меня! — пошутила Джулия.

Имельда усмехнулась:

— Метла меня прокормит, я готова терпеть любые издержки, а ты. Ты могла бы и потерпеть, лавочница, — она прыснула, заглянув Джулии в серый глаз, вдруг зло потемневший. — Прости, у тебя такой лицо сейчас было. Бесценное просто. — Имельда обрушила град кусачих поцелуев на её сырой висок, и Джулия зажмурилась. — Так задорно хвостом передо мной ты ещё не виляла; не упирайся только, что терпишь. Податливая ты какая-то сегодня, спесивая. Подрочила так хорошо или, хе-хе, Джулс, так я и думала: нравится, когда тобой помыкают? — Имельда больно сжала грудь и поигралась соском. — Хочешь, хорошей девочкой, умничкой назову? А негодницей?

Джулия закатила глаза.

— Ну нравится мне, да, — простонала Джулия; её разгорячённое нутро вдруг сжалось, пустило дрожь по всему телу, но сногсшибательное тепло, предвещавшее судорогу оргазма, откуда-то из глубин лона спускаться не торопилось; как ладонь Имельды не торопилась нырнуть пальцами в упругое тепло её влагалища. — Скажи ещё, что сейчас спустишься и лизнёшь меня там, отстранишься; подождёшь, пока расстроюсь и оденусь, а потом попросишь до вечера подождать, чтобы я в предвкушении с ума сошла. И я сойду. Мелли, я на стены полезу. Волосы с глаз уберу, чтобы на часы смотреть весь день. �� сейчас только утро. Мелли. Угомонись.

— А хочешь так? Можно устроить, — улыбаясь, прошептала Имельда. — Только отвечай честно, учти, условия поставлю строгие. — Она обняла крепче. — Хочу, чтобы ты млела, и текла, и ныла; хочу тебя жрать весь вечер и слизывать слёзы с твоих щёк, потому что ты будешь кричать, плакать и рваться из моих рук, из верёвки или галстука. Домашним птичкам не положено с голыми лапками ходить, — Её поцелуй остался в ухе очень громким чмоком, — сделаем тебе опутенки и напомним, где жёрдочка твоя, на которой тебе положено сидеть.

— Мелли. — Джулия задумалась; только подумав, она нарушила хотя бы одно из условий, какими бы они ни были, а уж как объяснить всё Поппи… — Ты ж, зараза, и я рот этот грязный целую каждый день. Доведёшь, когда-нибудь, до греха.

Имельда отползла пальцами выше, к низу живота. Джулия нахмурилась, но не посмела опустить рук, только прижалась задницей к её горячему лобку и потёрлась о колючий волос.

— А доведу? — поинтересовалась Имельда. — Что ты мне сделаешь? Или себе? Джулс, вечером забудь про свои руки, что они у тебя есть, тоже забудь. Свяжу и буду ебсти, пока не осипнешь. Я всё сказала, что хотела, по этому поводу, тебе пиздец. — Имельда облизнулась. — В отместку, что не дождалась там, в раздевалке. Знаешь ведь, курица, что при одном взгляде на тебя у меня пизда горит. Я захожу в душ и что я вижу!..

Джулия затряслась от смеха.

— Да что на тебя нашло! Мелли!

Её руки опоясали тело, и Джулия подзабыла, как дышать.

Имельда придавила её к стене всю, неуёмно целуя в основание шеи, где выступал позвонок, и гуляла по её стянутому животу сырыми ладонями, легко царапая костяшки о швы кафеля. Сдавливала небольшую, упругую грудь, тянула за жёсткие соски, обводила грубоватыми подушечками пальцев шрамы на рёбрах и придерживала у боков острыми локтями; упиралась лобком в её мягкую задницу.

У Джулии дрожали коленки.

— Что на меня нашло. — Имельда резко выдохнула ей в ухо и прикусила мочку. — Дырка в панталонах для таких, как ты, суккубов, сделана, понятно?

— Тебе понравилось. Не отрицай, — слабо улыбнулась Джулия.

— Так бы и слушала, как ты скулишь, да-да, да, — огрызнулась Имельда. Перед Карлайлом… — Ты боишься потерпеть всего лишь пару часов.  

…Джулия царапала эмалированную стену купе у опущенной на окно шторы, сипя и кусая губы, скуля в собственную дрожащую, холодную ладонь, пока Имельда терялась носом между её дрожавших бёдер. Затянутый корсет не позволял дышать полной грудью и не разрешал гнуться, в крепкой хватке Имельды нельзя было повернуться.

Имельда задыхалась под ней, держалась за неё, как будто лежала спиной на самом краю обрыва, а не лежала, вдавленная в пружины мягкого сидения; жалобным взглядом простреливала ей сердце: пока её язык валял клитор на себе как бусинку, пока скользил внутрь и описывал круги в мягких складках, пуская по ним приятную вибрацию шедших глубоко из груди отчаянных стонов — где-то позади них на том же сидении одна рука Поппи держала шнур корсета Джулии, другая — иначе не скажешь, Имельду звучно пытала и трахала с, немного-немало, настоящим натуралистическим интересом…

— Должна же я тебе отплатить. Сикль за сикль, — гаденько пролепетала Имельда. — А будешь визжать, суну что-нибудь в рот!

Джулия отдышалась и, получив ещё один поцелуй, тихо произнесла:

— Мне страшно… так.

— Не когда ты вся взмокнешь и распалишься, ещё лодыжки прихватить Incarcerous попросишь, чтобы самой ноги не разводить. Они тебе всё равно ни к чему будут, как и твой длинный язык. Толку от него, если совсем не эти губы, — Имельда обвела рот Джулии большим пальцем и мягко надавила на нижнюю, — будут занимать мой.

Нутро вдруг сжалось снова, прихватив фалангу Имельды и заставив Джулию по-блядски насадиться глубже. Издевательски нежный поцелуй в уголок губы перехватил её резкий вдох и превратился в поцелуй-настоящий, когда язык танцует с языком и непереносимо хочется больше, хочется ещё.

— Поучим тебя терпению, — облизнулась Имельда её слюной. — Намучаешься. Умничка такая, так рук и не убрала… Нужно тебя как-то за это похвалить.

Джулия захотела спросить, откуда в Имельде появилось столько воли. Раньше она бы, кинувшись на неё с поцелуями, вжав во все стены, полы и углы, усадила на бортик ванны и оттрахала, захлёбываясь и в своих, и в её стонах. Джулия ждала, когда тёрлась о её бедро, именно этого: привычной физической грубости, обыкновенной жёсткой тактильности, выбивавшей любые мысли из её вечно занятой чем-то головы. Но в этот раз Имельда нацелилась выгнать оттуда остатки трезвомыслия, и об этом Джулия хотела спросить тем же вопросом, но смогла только выдавить жалкое и зажатое:

— Да брось ты…

— Ну почему нет? Ты испугалась или верёвка на запястьях тебя пугает больше? — Имельда огладила её плечо и захватила в ласковые объятия, клевала в щёку носом. — Прости. Я не заставляю, если что, интересно просто. В Холихеде ты не возражала.

В Холихеде Джулия разрешила связать себе руки за спиной, проиграв спор, и потом ворочалась под шутливой лаской четырёх рук, смеясь и теряя голову в долгих поцелуях; разглядывала озадаченность на лицах любовниц, чувствуя обжигающее тепло на собственных щеках, кусала губы, когда щекотка сменилась руками в бриджах и зубами на сосках — и затыкающими, властными поцелуями.

— Я… Мелли, такой ответ: да, и мне и с ними… Неловко, — призналась Джулия.

Страх казался ей, в сущности своей, иррациональным: не было угрозы в забиравшемся вовнутрь сильном языке и вреда в любящих руках; не может быть опасности в собственной постели, в окружении любящих душ и низла — существа, чувствовавшего злой умысел загодя. Однако идея кому-то, чему-то безудержному и с ума сводящему сдаться, сев не на колени, но собственную гордость придавив алчущей внимания плотью, разрешив отобрать свободу и приняв запрет говорить, а то и что-либо видеть, — Джулию пугала.

Это был примордиальный ужас, подкреплённый застарелым воспоминанием о попытках ашвайндеров пленить её. Джулии всегда удавалось удрать и едва не зубами выгрызать свободу, рискуя жизнями Натти и Поппи, Мары, но никогда — поддаться странной мысли сдаться случаю и увидеть мир с… немного другой стороны; эту страшную мысль не иначе нашёптывал Дьявол — тот же Дьявол, который невзначай просил сброситься с Астрономической башни, поймать спиной разогнавшийся бладжер или свалиться в Чёрное озеро.

Дьявол, который хотел её, связанную и согласную на это, трахнуть; Дьявол, который словами любимой Имельды, действиями её милой Поппи мягко просил хотя бы попробовать — и что-то в этом ужасе манило Джулию, как мотылька на огонь.

— Поцелуй меня? — робко попросила она. — Чтобы не боялась.

— Нашла, кого бояться, — вздохнула Имельда и чмокнула её пару раз. — Или ты стесняешься нашей ромашки?

К её тёплой улыбке хотелось прильнуть, но Имельда прильнула раньше.

— Наша ромашка в прошлый раз поставила мне такой синяк на заднице!.. Я пару дней садилась, вздрагивая, — пожаловалась Джулия.

Имельда прыснула:

— А она тебе когда-нибудь сосала? — Джулия осторожно кивнула. — Врёшь, просто лизала и лакала. Я сесть полдня не могла.

Джулия пихнулась в её сильных руках и снова почувствовала кафель щекой; в тёплых ладонях Имельды Джулия расслабила упёртые в стену кисти, только чтобы дёрнуться на её подставленном бедре назад, насев клитором на острое колено.

— У вас у всех на Слизерине такая привычка, да? — буркнула Джулия.

— Ну-ка? — навострилась Имельда. — Какая такая привычка?

— Привязать птичку за лапки, придержать крылышки с клювом и посмотреть, как она будет рваться, если тыкать её в грудинку острой палочкой?

— Только мы птичек медленно едим, — поправила Имельда. — И тебе так — тоже нравится.

Джулия плюнула:

— Да, блядь, мне всё, что ты творишь, нравится, даже твой оголтелый садизм! Суккубка!

— А ты же моя милая мазохистка-извращенка. Инкубочка. Так, руки; у головы держи, вот так. — Мягкий поцелуй Имельды сменился мягкой лаской её щекотно сбежавших вниз пальцев. — Так ты согласна? Нет или да?

— Ты меня связанную съешь, а она меня сожрёт! Нет, Мелли!

— И всё-таки. — Её пальцы снова обхватили клитор. Джулия вздрогнула; ладони сжались в кулаки. — Почему? Забудь про кляп, про верёвки. Про всё. Я тебя не принуждаю и не буду, но и раньше ты объясняла, что к чему, чтобы даже до Хобхауса долетело. Расскажи, не бойся, обещаю много не шутить и рук не распускать, — прошептала она, выкручивая клитор. — Джулия, бесстыдница. Ты вся течёшь. — Её средний палец скользнул к промежности и обратно, пока пальцы второй руки беззастенчиво проскальзывали внутрь влагалища каждый на фалангу-полторы. — Если отойду, задницу, отклячишь?

— Да… — простонала Джулия, уперев голову в свои предплечья. — Мелли, может, мы потом… поговорим потом?..

— Нет. — Ладонь Имельды снова накрыла её рот и снова в ушах остался отзвук её усмешки, гадкий и защекотавший где-то внутри так, что Джулия сжала пальцы ног и зажмурилась. — Не артачься. Себе я всегда надрочить успею. А ты начнёшь ныть, что я жестокая и оставила тебя, бедняжку, без оргазма.

Джулия всхлипнула в её ладонь:

— Я девственница! — и судорожно вздохнула, не сообразив, что сказала.

Имельда прыснула и заржала, как фестрал, бесстыдно сжав Джулии грудь, обняв её и облокотившись на неё всем немалым весом своего мускулистого тела.

— Прекрати, блядь, ржать, кобыла, да слезь ты с меня! — просипела Джулия, выставив перед собой руки. — Меня не трахали никогда! Я боюсь!

На смех Имельды, истерически громкий, должен был кто-то прийти.

Её должно было быть слышно в Хогсмиде.

— А ты вкусная там, внутри, — отсмеявшись и похлопав Джулию по лобку, сказала Имельда. — И на пальцах скакать тебе нравится. О бёдра тереться. А как ты материлась в Холихеде!.. И ты и сама не прочь кого-нибудь…

— Да, но… — Джулия замолчала.

Имельда убрала влажную прядь вившихся рыжих волос прочь с её лица и, смочив руку, пригладила, чтобы не сползла обратно, и снова расслабленно прислонилась к щеке Джулии.

— Курица, а вот расскажи: какая связь между действиями «привязать тебя к чему-нибудь» и «потыкаться в тебя хуем»? Я же правильно тебя поняла?

Джулия опешила:

— Никакая, но да, и так мне было бы… менее страшно. Наверное. Так, вот, да. — Джулия прикусила губу; смысла в таком объяснении не было, и откуда бы ему там взяться, когда между ног нагло хозяйничала чужая мягкая и распаренная, сильная ладонь. — Так понятно?

— Нет, ни хуя непонятно, — прыснула Имельда и вдруг осеклась. — Так, подожди… Джулия. Райт, такая-то ты блядь. — Имельда ужалила её в щёку. — И чего только не влетает в твою светлую голову; летит всякая мразь, как мотыльки на свет. Никогда бы не подумала на заучку с Рейвенкло, вы же все нюни, — искренне возмутилась Имельда, слизеринка, забывшая, что в незавидном положении придавленной к полу зазнайки как правило оказываются студенты её факультета. — Сладкие, наивные, заносчивые писечки. Нихуя ты не боишься. Ты стесняешься. — Поцелуй Имельды показался дольше остальных, напористее, но ласковее и теплее, чем любой до этого. — Обожаю тебя.

— Заткнись, просто заткнись, рот закрой, — раскраснелась Джулия, отвернувшись. — Забудь, что я обронила это вообще, всё, я ничего не говорила!

— А Саллоу-то и не знал. Как и Уизли! Мерлинова борода, дорогуша, у тебя в родне точно инкубы. Ну-ка расскажи мне, как ты до этого вообще додумалась? Кто с тобой так, кто успел? И с кем хотела ты? На чей бы села, чей Поппи отдала? — шептала Имельда. — У тебя три секунды перед тем, как я скажу слово на букву «Ш» и оканчивающееся на «арп». Я говорила, я предупреждала. Ну вот зачем ты с ним пила.

Джулия стыдливо уставилась в пол и пожелала в него провалиться.

Во-первых, с Шарпом она пила только сидр и такой крепости, которым невозможно споить жука. Во-вторых, так что Имельда была неправа. В-третьих, что Шарп мог сказать, кроме как высказать облегчение, что маленькие Уизли-Райты не забегают в замковом саду — и не приедут на лето в уютный коттедж в Дорсете? Конечно, имела в виду Имельда не это, но Джулия отказалась идти на поводу её глупой шутки, родившейся из невероятного глупого слуха зимой на пятом курсе — в необъяснимо глупый период её, Джулии, непростой жизни.

— Я не знаю, как. — Джулия прикусила губу. — Или знаю, только не скажу.

— Так. Джулия. Про вечер я пошутила, но я могу и передумать. Так нельзя: возбудить интерес и не дать отве��!

Джулия вздохнула:

— Потому что ты не хочешь знать. Я тоже не хочу знать. Давай вместе не хотеть?.. — попросила Джулия. — Наш взаимный интерес диктует нам потушить пизду, выражаясь твоим помойным слогом.

— О, я потушу тебе пизду, — обиделась Имельда. — Но ты этого не хочешь. Можешь не отвечать, не больно-то и хотелось у такой фри что-то спрашивать.

Больше неуместных замечаний и ужасных шуток Джулия ненавидела портить им обеим настроение собственной напористостью; она считала правильным выставить вокруг себя какие-то границы и очертить горизонт, но совершенно не желала мириться с мыслью, что так могла обидеть не случайного, а дорого сердцу человека.

Джулия извинилась.

Имельда смирила её похожим взглядом: виноватым и смущённым.

Не стоило напирать, не было нужды хамить.

— Прости, — попросила Имельда, прижавшись губами к виску. — Джулс.

— Мелли, я не скинула рук, — улыбнулась Джулия, оторвав ладонь от кафеля, только чтобы огладить Имельде линию скулы.

Она прижала её пальцы к щеке и поцеловала запястье.

— Твой сучий инстинкт Конец света переживёт, и не только его я в тебе люблю, Райт.

— Я знаю, но и как тебе, Рейес, объяснить, что меня раздражают мужики, я тоже не знаю. Свяжут и глазами хлопают.

— Джулия. — Имельда изогнула бровь. — Из бляди в доньи. Ты же помнишь, кем были те мужики? — не поверила она.

— Руквуд первым был, но не последним же.

Имельда снова прыснула; нервно улыбаясь, поцеловала её висок.

Джулия едва сдерживалась, чтобы не сползти по стене на пол и от усталости, и под весом Имельды, и ощущая недостаток воздуха — и тихое тепло возбуждение, поддерживаемое так долго — впервые; пережившее ссору, допрос, сальности, столько всего, что Джулия про себя удивилась и зажмурилась, не в силах смотреть на плывшую, как шорох воды, стену.

Имельда снова зажала ей рот и тихо попросила расслабиться всю.

В тишине раздевалки они оделись. Оправили мантии. Ещё раз пылко поцеловались.

Джулия расслабилась в крепком объятии, смакуя вкус Имельды на губах и дыша приятным одором её вившихся волос.

Тело неумолимо просилось поближе к вкусной еде, домашнему низлу и тёплой постели.

— Ты в лавочку сейчас? — ласково спросила Имельда, и Джулия клюнула лбом ей в плечо. — Поспишь? — Джулия кивнула. — Тогда хорошо поспи, не хочу, чтобы ты вдруг уснула.

— В смысле… — Щурясь, Джулия приподняла голову. — Ты о чём?

— Не прикидывайся дурочкой, всё ты поняла, — пожурила Имельда и хлопнула её по спине пару раз. — Готовься. Осипнешь. Нужно как-то тебя за прощение отблагодарить.

#for the english speaking folk: chances are this may get a translation bc i can't leave you stranded like this #днявочка #днявочка: фанфики! #днявочка: hlegacy #фанфик #фанфики #hogwarts legacy mc #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes smut #imelda reyes x f!mc #poppy sweeting x f!mc #хогвартс наследие #русский тамблер #русский tumblr #остальные 4 части сюда не понесу мне будет страшно лень #banner credit: @imlevis

[tardytothesimspardy]

oh also have this picture, it was after the New Year's party, and oh my gosh Flo and Flat are just so cute, I love them so much ;-;

#i just love casual intimacy idk #it's exactly like all those memes of reading smut and being unfazed but reading fluff absolutely destroys me #the sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #the sims 4 gameplay #the sims 4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #images have alt text #sims 4 #the sims 4 legacy #the brokes

[hitomisuzuya]

Childe brainrot written at 4:30am. Childe x fem! reader. Smut. Breeding kink. Fingering. Size kink.

Here is some Childe brainrot in honor of seeing him in the trailer for Fontaine.

Childe loves seeing you wear his scarf while he is fucking you. He loves to tighten it around your throat when you about to cum on his cock, watching your pupils blow out from utter bliss as your release gushes out around his cock.

Childe likes to finger you underneath the table during meetings. He pumps his gloved fingers in and out of your cunt, resting his chin in his hand while he watched you fight to stay quiet and keep your composure as he kisses his fingers firmly into your sweet spot.

He absolutely loves it when you sink to your knees and suck his cock after a day of fighting on missions for the Fatui. He'll rest his head against the wall, moaning unabashed as he fucks his cock deep into your throat, making you choke from how much he cums.

Childe fucks like he fights, hard and aggressive. Sparring with him usually ends up with him pinning you the ground, pounding his cock hard into your cunt. He enjoys fucking you in his Foul Legacy form, hearing you mewl in pleasure while you whimper that he might be too big to fit inside your weeping and abused cunt.

He loves spreading you bare on top of his Harbinger jacket, seeing you grip the fabric while he swirls his tongue around your clit. He sucks on it until it swollen and throbbing before sweeping his tongue inside of you to taste you squirting on it.

Abandoned alleyways are something of a favorite place for Childe to fuck you in. He'll clamp a hand over your mouth, degrading you by saying how much of a slut you sound like moaning for him to fuck you harder against the wall. The thought of getting caught gives him a little thrill. "With the way you are moaning loud like a whore for me, it's like you want to get caught."

This man is obsessed with the thought of breeding you. He'll bend you over his desk, his grip on your hips bruising as he slams his cock inside of you, babbling about filling you so full that you'll be well on your way to bearing his children. "I'll cum inside of you over and over until I knock you up. Your pretty cunt won't be able to hold it all."

He loves to talk dirty to you in Russian. It sends him feral one day when you not only tell him to fuck you in Russian but also that you are cumming.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #childe #childe smut #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #childe brainrot

[lisired]

whisper

pairing: actor/dad’s best friend!doyoung x actress!reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!doyoung, cheating, secret love affair, age gap (21+), minor impact play, loads of praise with a hint of degradation, protected and unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy), oral (f receiving), fingering, non-idol actor!au, yet another special appearance by mark lee, taeyong is mcs dad im sorry.

summary: When you were nineteen, you could only dream of meeting Kim Doyoung in his sheets. Behind his back you watched all the movies he starred in, wanting nothing more than to be the one he touched whenever a sex scene came on. So when the opportunity surfaced four years later after you’re casted together in the same movie, you didn’t hesitate to snag it - even if it meant hiding from his wife, your father, and the public. And even if feelings developed.

word count: 8.9k

a/n: 2/4 of the Temptation series. Feedback is appreciated!

Doyoung was doing what people called, “living the dream.”

More like he did an excellent job at convincing people he was. There was something humorous to you about the article concerning the allegedly perfect life of your co-star. It summed his life up as, “happily married with a child, thriving with a successful career in the entertainment industry, and age having yet to catch up to him.”

You supposed what they said wasn’t entirely false. Thirty-six years into his life, Doyoung was still fairly young. He had a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, and loved his job with a passion, but beneath all of that beauty was the ugly he had carefully tucked out of the public’s prying eyes. His marriage was more loveless and affair-filled than the show he put on gave away.

And you were a culprit.

The story was a long one. For you, it started when you were nineteen. That year was a grand one for Doyoung as he was getting booked left to right and it begun his legacy as “the actor with the steamy sex scenes.” You watched every single movie. Scene after scene, you wondered how he made something so hot look so realistic, and imagined being the one under him.

Little did you know, your dreams would come true four years later. When you were asked roughly two years ago to star alongside Kim Doyoung in an upcoming romantic drama by the name of Whisper, you couldn’t deny the opportunity. A part of you feared what your father would think of the role, considering Doyoung was a good friend of his, but you were relieved when he wasn’t bothered. He called it “the beauty of acting.”

It was too bad that everything you felt for Doyoung was unable to be faked. You were far beyond attracted to him, on a level that the public nor your father, should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve ever known.

A knock jerked you from your thoughts. Your father stood by the door, peering in as he announced, “Hey, love. Doyoung’s here.”

Fighting your smile was too hard. Now that you were going to star in a movie together you and Doyoung met up often these days, even though you no longer were in the stage of what he dubbed perfecting your chemistry (but all that ever meant was sneaking away into his sheets.)

It stung to wonder if he slept with all his co-stars. No wonder their sex scenes looked so natural, the emotion had to be raw.

Shoving the thought into the back of your head, you rose from your bed and replied, “Alright. I’ll be back tonight, love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Have fun!”

Doyoung was standing outside the front door when you arrived there. He smiled gently, outstretching his hand kindly and waiting for you to slip your fingers between his, which you did promptly. “Missed me?”

Oh, did you. With the movie being a priority for you both, there was never a large gap in between times that you saw one another, but your new-found attachment to Doyoung made every second seem to drag on. You woke up every morning and couldn’t wait to see him.

You groaned, “You have no idea.”

Doyoung chuckled. He opened the car door for you and once you were seated, leaned into your ear and whispered, “Why don’t you show me how much when we get home?”

There was no confusion on how he managed to persuade you into his sheets. On-screen and off-screen Doyoung was relentlessly sexy, and his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. You loved when he whispered dirty things in your ear like that. It was gentle yet hot, and made your whole body tense with desire.

“Y-yeah,” you murmured in your best attempt at feigning unaffectedness. Actor to actress however, Doyoung could see right through you. He knew you wanted him and it amused him how poor of a job you did at hiding it. 

On the way to his house, you tried to think of anything but the surge of arousal between your thighs. What you were meant to be doing was crafting impeccable chemistry. Doyoung was an actor known for his undeniable chemistry with his costars and the raunchy sex scenes that came from them, and you being his best friend’s daughter made you no exception to his streak.

You were to play the role of a mistress of an heir who had his life painted perfectly and was adored by his country. In reality, his marriage was complicated and brittle and he turned to a mistress to relieve himself of the things he couldn’t seek in his wife. It was almost amusing to you that the drama seemed to hit the nail on the head when it came to describing what your relationship had become. You’d be damned if anyone said the acting was anything less than extraordinary - all of the emotion was real.

The car ride came to an abrupt end with your thoughts. Doyoung helped you out of the vehicle and barely let you breathe when you both stepped inside his house. He was pressing you back against the door in a matter of seconds, lips targeting your neck as his fingers worked hungrily to undress you.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly. He was making you impatient. “How much time do we have?”

“The whole day if we wanted. Maya took Daphne to see her grandmother this weekend, and they’ll be gone until Monday morning.”

That sounded like heaven. With the feeling of Doyoung’s body on yours, you were relieved to know that you could savor it longer, without having to race to pleasure. You two had also been working actively on the movie a lot harder than it seemed right now, and these little sexcapades were like much-needed breaks.

As if he could read your mind, Doyoung teased as he slid your shirt down your shoulders, “Bet you like the thought of fucking me all day, huh? You want me all to yourself?”

“Doyoung,” you whimpered.

“Shh, don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, sweeping you into his arms and making a move towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It was almost telepathic. There was a mutual understanding between you both that went beyond sex, and that was how you landed yourself in this predicament in the first place; you understood his needs, he understood yours.

“I missed you, too,” Doyoung announced quietly as he pushed your panties to the side, helping himself to your pussy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You replied in the midst of a moan, “Thinking about me?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed and leaned closer to your ear, “A lot. Thinking about you under me. On me. Thinking about how needy you are and get from the smallest things. Thinking about how cute you sound when I touch you and how shy you get when I tell you what I wanna do to you.”

His honesty would be the death of you. Doyoung was open yet tender in the way that he expressed things, completely unafraid of intimacy and letting you know that he wanted you. He never let you forget that he adored every aspect of your body, showering you in kisses and more often than not, praises in the form of whispers.

You were weak, and it didn’t help that at the same time he was telling you things that made your heart race, his fingers were also pacing in and out of you. He was no longer a want - you needed him inside of you, now.

“Fuck me already,” you cried, your patience dissipating rapidly.

Disapproving of your attitude, Doyoung delivered a smack to your thigh that made you cry out once more. “Where’s your manners?”

You had forgotten them - and anything that wasn’t the growing ache between your thighs, for that matter. It was safe to say that your eagerness had taken over you, although you knew Doyoung would give you everything you wanted as long as you behaved. He was always gentle unless you gave him a reason to be the opposite, and that was on rare occasions. But once he decided to show you no mercy, you were doomed. And you didn’t even want to think about not cumming.

“Doyoung, please fuck me,” you corrected yourself, adding for good measure, “I need you. So bad, it hurts.”

He hummed, satisfied. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Doyoung withdrew his fingers and whirled you around, hushing you with a kiss before you could whimper any complaint. All you could focus on was the taste of his tongue in your mouth, grounding yourself with his shoulders as the gesture had caught you off-guard. Meanwhile he was tugging your panties off, with help from you as you lifted your legs.

He cupped your pussy again and you moaned into his mouth before he parted and asked, “You want me?”

“Yes,” you replied a little too fast. “Please.”

“Then show me.”

It was obvious what he meant by showing him. He wanted you to ride him, and you weren’t one to argue. You’d take Doyoung in any position he was willing to try. You just needed him in you.

Doyoung was never too bent on specific positions, either. He was always the one in control, but he was firm enough in himself that he didn’t need to be on top to show power. Even if it was your body making the movements, it was him telling you what to do. Most of the time you had no problem bending to his will.

Right now was one of those times. You yanked down his boxers, discarding them onto the ground with your own underwear in a hurry and didn’t hesitate to reach out for his hard-on. With you already straddling him, you took the base of his dick in your palm, placing on him the condom he passed you then slid onto him.

The two of you moaned in perfect sync once you sank down on him. You could come up with several perks of fucking Doyoung, but one of your favorites was that no matter how much he liked to whisper, he was a vocal moaner by nature. Doyoung was a master at silencing himself whenever he deemed it necessary, however you loved when he refused to restrain himself and even more that he was unashamed; he loved expression through sex and pleasure.

He sounded like an angel, too. It felt like traveling through a portal to heaven whenever Doyoung moaned your name.

Doyoung asked once you had adjusted, “How you feeling, baby?”

“Good,” you sighed out in bliss. He was so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. “And full.”

“Of course. You take it like no one before you, baby girl,” he praised, and all the while you felt like the room was spinning.

Doyoung was indirectly stating that you were a better fuck than his wife. You didn’t like to think about Doyoung fucking other people when it wasn’t movies, but there was a reason that he was balls deep inside you right now instead of her. Everything that she could do, he realized, you could do better. Much, much better.

Deflecting the attention, you asked, “How do you feel?”

“I’m good too, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Doyoung growled with zero hesitation. He was so fucking hot. You saw him barely fighting the utmost smug grin when you clenched around him.

He was better than anyone else before him too, in every fashion. No one had ever made your skin swelter the way Doyoung had. He said a word or made a bare touch and it was as though your whole body was consumed by flames. Somehow he made every moment feel as blissful as the first time, and every touch grazed upon your flesh by his fingertips lingered on you for days. Memories of what you’d done always replayed in your mind until you could have another taste.

Doyoung couldn’t be paid to keep his hands off of you. He steered you with a single hand clutching your waist and the other played to its content on your chest, bearing in mind that you always loved when he touched you there. Your body was a diamond to him - beautiful and precious, and he never got bored of you. Doyoung had seen you bare and naked an ungodly amount of times before, but each time he fell endlessly in love with it over and over again. He was utterly sure that he could never get bored of fucking you, and the feeling that accompanied it.

He pressed kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “You ride me so good, baby.”

You were certain that you could explode. Doyoung had too much power over the entirety of your body. He made your pussy throb but your heart hammer, and sometimes he made you so nervous you wanted to cower. But there was nowhere - nothing to hide. You were both naked and exposed, skin to skin, uncovering your deepest emotions with the sex.

There was nowhere to run and you didn’t want to be anywhere if it wasn’t beside him.

The rest of the day dragged on like that - you and Doyoung fucking each other’s brains out, taking turns with different positions. You’d fuck, take a break to do something productive, then ultimately wind up having sex again. There was no self control when it came to either of you, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. 

And frankly, you didn't want to.

As an actress, maybe facades should have been second nature to you. You were the daughter of a director and sucked into the industry due to nepotism - it should have been practically flowing in your bloodstream. But you underestimated just how hard pretending you weren’t hooking up with one of your dad’s friends was.

Especially his best friend.

The reason your dad trusted Doyoung so much was because they were close, having known one another since before you were even a thought meandering in your parents’ mind. Your dad mentored Doyoung since he was nine years old until he didn’t need it anymore. That also meant he was around you often - around your entire family. Including your dad. Ignoring the rhythm of your heartbeat when he was around you and the uneasy tension between you became easier with time, but subduing the feeling completely was impossible. Much less possible when he found ways to tease you in secret.

You were at a party at your dad’s house and Doyoung had been unabashedly eye-fucking you all evening long. That alone made it obvious what he wanted, but it was all in the way he touched you too. Locking arms with you and grazing his hands against you seductivelyf when no one else was looking. It was risky, but you had to admit, it made it a little fun.

By the time the party was over though, you were sure all that lust had dulled into fatigue. Doyoung looked worn-out and gone as he rested on the couch, the last of your guests and unable to drive home because of how much liquor he’d consumed. That was what you overheard him telling your dad, at least. He insisted on getting an Uber, but your dad told him to take the guest room and some Aspirin in the morning.

Doyoung pulled your dad in for a brief hug. “Thanks, Taeyong. See you in the morning.”

“Of course,” Taeyong replied. “And go easier on the alcohol next time. You know you can’t handle too much.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Doyoung teased.

With a laugh, your dad patted him on the back and wished him goodnight, then went to join your mother in bed. You peered from around the corner, suspicion bottling up in your chest. It was possible that he was, but you didn’t want to be faced with the disappointment of it being true.

Arms folded across your chest, you asked, “You really drunk, babe?”

For a split second, Doyoung had looked surprised to hear you accusing him of feigning his intoxication. Then it wore off, and he chuckled. He looked around the hallway, and once he confirmed that you both were alone, admitted, “You caught me.”

You were a bit shocked to know that he was sober, but not that he’d feign inebriety - that didn’t surprise you. If Doyoung was set on having something he’d stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. He did a damn good job at fooling everyone, too. You were under the impression that he was drunk and only confronted him for your own sake.

“Of course,” you murmured, then pressed, “May I ask your motive?” you had already known, but for some reason you wanted to lay down some cards to see what move he’d make.

Doyoung saw right through you, however. He always did. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly what my motive is.”

And like always, that had you ready to drop your panties in a heartbeat.

“Meet me in the guest room in 30,” he commanded, then turned away in the direction of said room.

No more than thirty minutes later, you were in bed with him. This time he was the one hovering above you, and it made you feel as though you were being preyed on - a billion times more susceptible to anything that he desired to do to your body and you loved it. Doyoung was in full reign. He always had been, but something different sparked whenever he was constantly making the moves for you.

“Want it?” Doyoung asked in between short-lived kisses, ones that never felt like enough no matter how many he pressed to your skin because he was adamant on not applying enough pressure to result in marking you. Lord knew it was all he ever wanted, but it was too risky. Not only would your family grow curious, public speculation would grow about a possible love affair.

You breathed out, “Need it.”

Doyoung chuckled, yet every sign of amusement faded the very moment he prodded the head of his dick inside you. There was nothing but sheer pleasure swarming his face like gloomy storm clouds. Reminding himself that you weren’t necessarily alone, he bit his lip to suppress the sounds he was ever so tempted to make.

You, on the other hand, subconsciously leaned towards the careless side. This wasn’t your first rodeo, but the problem was that the experience never dulled the more you had sex; it did the opposite. Each time was better than the last and you struggled to hide how much Doyoung aroused you. Every single touch, thrust, and whisper had you falling apart at the seams. You simply couldn’t resist emitting even the quietest of moans and although Doyoung loved hearing you moan for him, he needed you to keep your voice to a minimum.

“Shh,” Doyoung whispered, cupping his palm over your mouth as he looked you dead in the eye. “Don’t want your daddy to know that I’m fucking you limp, do you?”

You shook your head in vehement denial. Although the walls were thick and the guest bedroom and your parents bedroom were on entirely different wings, Doyoung still didn’t want to get too comfortable unless the house was completely vacanted. You didn’t blame him. It was much better to be safe than sorry.

“Then stop being a brat and shut your mouth before I have to do it for you.”

That tempted you to fuck around and find out what that entailed, but you wouldn’t take the risk here. Instead you bit down on your lip and squeezed your eyes shut whenever he made a sharp thrust.

Other noises that were beyond your individual control made it all too obvious that you were having sex. The slight creak of the bed and the slapping noise of your skin joining together whenever Doyoung thrusted his hips into yours. All it would take was someone wandering a little too close in proximity to the bedroom to tell what was going on, but as forementioned, your parents were on the opposite wing. That made it easier to focus on Doyoung. The way his mouth fell agape in silent moans or his teeth dug into his bottom lip to conceal his pleasure. The way his grip on your waist tightened whenever you clenched around him. Whatever it was he did, you were completely entranced by his reactions.

Doyoung only mirrored your awe as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him greedily. He could see the print of his bulge flat against your stomach and it sent him into overdrive. If anything, he only began pounding you harder in spite of the noise, leaving you to grip the sheets for dear life and let your eyes roll back.

“Always so tight for me,” Doyoung growled. “Don’t I fuck you enough?”

You whimpered in response as quietly as you could, “I need more.”

“My greedy little slut,” he sighed out in bliss, hips seemingly rocking into you deeper as he fulfilled your wish. Something about him claiming you as his possession was exhilarating to you. You were his greedy little slut. “Gonna fuck you all night long, baby.”

God, you knew he could. It wouldn’t be the first time Doyoung fucked you right into the mattress round after round, until you physically and mentally tapped out - and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.

Having sex with Doyoung was everything nineteen-year-old you dreamed it would be, and then some. The movies had nothing on the real experience. They were graphic and arousing, but having Doyoung hold and touch you already made you feel as if your head was in the clouds. He made you feel wanted with his kisses and praises directed to you specifically, and the sexual tension between you was practically as good as the sex itself. Every moment with him was intimate and there was nothing better than being able to say that you had the Kim Doyoung in your sheets.

Then there also wasn’t some big explanation. Doyoung simply fucked you good and gave you sex on the ceiling. He knew your body inside out and was your greatest vice. It was natural that you were inclined to come back to someone who fucked you better than anyone else.

Doyoung’s pace began to quicken yet his thrusts became shallower, and by then - after the multiple occasions that you’d spent fucking and sucking the life out of one another - you knew well enough that it was a signal he was close. To say nothing of the moans you could tell he was struggling to contain. You weren’t any better yourself, feeling the knot inside you tightening. Both your bodies were aching for a release. 

“Cum for me,” Doyoung exhaled, the drive of his hips fiercer than ever. He was breathless, yet still relentlessly digging you deeper into the mattress without an ounce of mercy.

If nobody heard the two of you going at it all night long, you were sure that there’d be suspicions now that you were going to be walking with a limp.

You cried when you came, “Doyoung!” Your hands scrambled for something to anchor yourself on, anything, the grip of your finger’s moving to claw at his shoulders. Doyoung grimaced and fought a grunt, but it was no secret to you that he was a sucker for a little pain.

Doyoung’s body reacted to yours, releasing into the condom with profanities, followed by the gentle grunt of your name the moment he felt the tightening grip of your walls. You loved when he did that. There was something about Doyoung moaning your name that made you want to finish him all over again, in spite of your sensitivity fresh after orgasming in his hold. If it were possible, you would loop the sound in your brain.

His hips didn’t stop rocking into you even after either of you came, savoring his high until it faded into the post-euphoria of his orgasm. He tossed out the condom, making a mental note to dispose of it properly before he fell asleep, then climbed back in bed with you. “You did well,” he whispered once he joined your side again, embracing you and kissing your skin.

You smiled. “Tired?”

“Honestly? It’s been a long night. I needed this, baby.”

You figured as much. He was fucking you like he worked a nine to five and had a week-load worth of stress to unleash in your pussy. That either meant he was exhausted beyond belief and wanted to sleep, or that there was plenty more where that came from.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”

Your ears practically perked up. Doyoung’s thoughts were either interesting or dirty - or a deadly combination of both. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wanna cum in you so damn bad.”

You had a feeling that tonight was a “there’s more where that came from” kind of night.

Doyoung finishing inside you was something that both of you fantasized about from time to time, maybe a little more often. There were risks, however you did your best to stay safe - Doyoung got tested immediately after he found out his wife was cheating on him, and you were on birth control. You didn’t know when the last time him and his wife had sex was, but you doubted it was any time after he started fucking you. The condoms were a force of habit.

“You’re clean, right?”

Doyoung nodded in an instant.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“Oh, baby,” he growled. “Trust me, I would right now if this was my house.”

You almost moaned when he did that. You were turned on all over again, but it wasn’t like you had reached the point of being turned off in the first place. Things worked like that with Doyoung.

“Condom, no condom, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” you whined, desperate to feel him between your walls all over again.

Doyoung wore a smug grin, climbing back onto you without having to be told twice. “Told you, I’m gonna fuck you all night long.”

And he did.

Misconceptions were popular amongst the lives of famous people, and Kim Doyoung was no exception. The public saw only what he was willing to expose - showing off his family and thanking the world for his endless amount of awards. No one would have guessed that a man who seemed to have such a picture-perfect lifestyle would ever be having an affair.

You and Doyoung were a long story. It started after Doyoung realized his wife was cheating on him with a D-list celebrity. By then they already had been arguing here and there, most of it being her fault. He told you that the only reason they hadn’t gone their own separate ways was for the sake of their child.

And then you came along. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Doyoung had always been aware of your attraction towards him. He found it cute but never thought too much of it until you were both casted together in Whisper, and having to work with you on such a sensual movie made tension between you light up in sparks. It wasn’t long before he confronted you, and even less before you got a taste of what people raved about endlessly in articles and on social media. You weren’t the only girl wondering what sex with Doyoung was like, but you were one of the few who would ever actually get to know the experience.

And goddamn, was it a heavenly one.

It really made you think. You’d have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on the fucking Kim Doyoung.

Tonight was the long-awaited movie premiere. Years of filming Whisper made you feel somewhat emotional, maybe because you could relate to your character all too well. The movie was so suspiciously accurate that you caught yourself reflecting and comparing the circumstances. It was a hell of a coincidence, but you knew that there was nothing more to it with the affair occuring only sometime after you’d been casted.

“You look breathtaking in this dress,” Doyoung told you after the red carpet photographs.

“Don’t flatter me,” you murmured, pretending that there weren’t butterflies swarming in your stomach. Your attraction to Doyoung may have grown beyond physical; a little more limitless than you’d like to admit. But that was a story for another day and another time.

Then, he leaned in and whispered, “You gonna let me take it off you tonight?”

You were glad that there was no more press around since you were on the way to the theater. Otherwise people might have caught onto what was a sensual moment for you. You tried your best to feign unbotheredness, but Doyoung left you hot and bothered and you couldn’t hide it.

Your mouth felt dry. “Y-yeah.”

Doyoung was amused. You were easily shy sometimes, yet also no questions asked to his wants. It was always fun seeing the effect he had on you and messing around on purpose just to get a kick out of it.

“I’ll send you a location. Have Mark take you there.”

Mark was your personal Uber - and the only person who knew what was happening between you and Doyoung. Thanks to Doyoung wanting to have car sex one time a year ago and not checking if you were alone, you winded up having to explain your situation to Mark, but he was shockingly understanding. There was no fear or doubt with him and it was a relief.

Doyoung walked off moments later, planting the seed that was growing in your brain. Seeing him dressed up only watered it, you thought he looked just as breathtaking as you were to him. Now you were thinking about getting naked and screwing Doyoung at some random location, and you had no idea how you were going to get through the movie premiere.

The next few hours were probably the longest of your life. They were exciting however, with all the positive reactions and feedback on the movie from your peers. There was dinner and socializing and while you were enjoying yourself tremendously and extremely proud of how the movie turned out, you needed Doyoung on such a greater level that nothing could satiate.

When it was finally time to leave, you hopped in the car and told Mark the location Doyoung had texted you via iMessage. Other than someone who simply worked for you, you also thought of Mark as a good friend. He was closer to your age than he was Doyoung’s, and was always fun to talk to.

“You and Doyoung going at it tonight, huh?”

You laughed. “When don’t we?”

Mark shrugged. It was a good question that he didn’t know the answer to, but he knew that it was none of his business. Unfortunately however, he sucked at minding his own.

“I, have a question…,” he started, sounding hesitant as ever, which only made you curious.

Curiously, you urged him. “Go on.”

“You and Doyoung,” he continued, still reluctant, as if he was taste testing his words before he said them. “Don’t shoot me, but is it just sex? Or have you guys caught feelings?”

Naturally, you opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when you realized that you didn’t have an answer. The simple answer was on the tip of your tongue - Yes. But your relationship with Doyoung was so much more complicated than that, and you hated to think about how he felt towards you. You had been trying to accept that you weren’t supposed to be anything but a pretty plaything for him to run to whenever he was fed up with his wife and needed some relief. Gradually, you were becoming okay with that.

Yet another part of you was hungry for more. That was always how you were. Whenever you got what you wanted, it still wasn’t enough. You were too greedy and insatiable, and desired all the things that were bad for you.

Mark added when he caught onto your silence, “Forget it if I’m being invasive. I just saw you smiling out the window and all bubbly when I mentioned him and I got curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, although you felt like melting into the leather seat. One way or another, you guessed that you’d have to confront your emotions eventually. “To be honest… I think I do like him. And it’s sick because I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t want him. But here we are, and I don’t think he feels the same.”

“I think he does.”

That made you snort. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m deadass,” Mark said without a trace of a smile on his face as you watched him through the rear view mirror. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to fuck me? Yeah.”

“Like he wants you,” Mark corrected. “Like you hung up each fuckin’ star in the sky by hand. I can tell you guys don’t just want to fuck each other. You seem to enjoy each other’s company and with all the times I’ve had to witness you two sucking each other’s tongues in the back of this car I’d be damned if there wasn’t something there.”

You sat there in silent shock. When you thought about it, maybe Mark was correct. You fell in love with how gently and lovingly Doyoung treated you even outside of sex, but you never got your hopes up. Maybe it was just him having the decency to treat you well. Maybe it was the bare minimum that you were swooning over.

But Doyoung went above and beyond when it came to you. He cooked for you whenever you stayed over and held you longer than he needed to. He took you places and bought you things you wanted yet never needed. He seemed to always put you first and was honestly the most selfless person that you knew. That was what you loved about him. He always went the extra mile.

Damn it. You really did want Doyoung.

Mark pulled into the driveway some moments later, and you were surprised to see that your destination wasn’t too far from the venue. It was a nice house with a gate that you told him the code to, and you wondered who’s name it was in and why you hadn’t gone here sooner.

“I’m sorry about what you see,” you responded, a little too late, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. It was understood that you needed a moment to reflect.

Mark shrugged without a care in the world. He smiled and said, “It’s alright as long as I get to see you happy. Now go get him.”

You smiled back. Mark’s words always felt like a pat on the back.

When you rang the doorbell, Doyoung opened the door for you, offering you no time before he swooped you inside and pinned you against the door. You squealed, cut off by his lips latching onto your mouth as he kissed you breathless. You were getting deja vu, recalling the last time that this had happened.

“I have a feeling you missed me,” you said once he pulled you away and let you breathe.

Doyoung pecked your lips, smiling softly against them. “Always.”

Your heart fluttered at the feeling. After your talk with Mark you were now hyper aware of all the little things about Doyoung that you loved, and his cute smile was one of them.

In your attempt to distract yourself from your heartbeat you asked, “Where are we?”

“One of my brother’s houses. He’s not here frequently, said I could use it for the night.”

Even as a wealthy celebrity who thrived off of nepotism, you never understood the rich’s obsession with buying house after house just to hardly live in them. But in this moment you were grateful because it meant that you and Doyoung were all alone, and you could be as loud as and do whatever your hearts desired.

“Oh, I see,” you purred, threading your fingers through his hair. “You must want me screaming my lungs off tonight.”

Doyoung nodded his head. “And that’s not all. I went and got tested again. I haven’t slept with her in a while, or anyone else for that matter, but I just felt like it. It came back negative. I’m clean.”

There were a billion thoughts racing in your mind, and then some. You were throbbing at the idea of Doyoung fucking you raw alone, but to have the opportunity being presented to you was something entirely different. You wanted it. Bad.

“Fuck, you really wanna do this?”

“I really wanna fuck you,” Doyoung said. Then something in him seemed to falter. “Actually no. I don’t just wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you. I don’t care if it sounds corny, you’re my everything, baby, and I wanna show you that I mean it.”

It took a moment for what he was implying to sink in, but when it did, you were ready. “Show me, then,” you stared him dead in the eye. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can, babe,” Doyoung growled, then crashed his lips back against yours. In the same timeframe you were undressing one another as he aided you to a room, unraveling in the midst of heated fervor.

Your dress landed in a heap on the floor, soon followed by your underwear until you were both stripped bare. You felt exposed, but in an exhilarating way. It meant he was free to do whatever he wished to your body.

Doyoung pinned you to the comforter then went for your skin like he always did, as though showering your body in warm kisses was a natural instinct. Something still felt different. He kissed you slower, gradually making progress down from your collarbone to your thighs. Taking his time to peck your weakest spots. He was showing your body - showing you love.

“Fuck, I wanna mark you so bad,” he said randomly, taking you by surprise. Doyoung had never intentionally marked you, the two of you fearing being suspected, or even caught. “We should get away. Go out of town for a while so that I can mark you, until they clear up.”

You giggled and threaded your fingers through his hair. “Now how would we do that in the middle of promotions - press appearances and interviews?”

Doyoung sighed. “Let me dream.”

That made you giggle again, and Doyoung smiled to himself at the sound. He loved everything about you and tonight, he was determined to show you exactly how much.

“Mark me where no one can see, but you. My body’s for your eyes only,” you told him. Your relationship was committed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had slept with another person and the very moment you started sleeping with him, you had no reason to want to be with anyone else.

“If I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Doyoung warned.

You shrugged. “Then don’t.”

Tonight seemed to be full of reckless decision-making, and you were tempting him to make another one. It would possibly be the least rash of all the others to come, so when you decided that you didn’t care, he concluded that he didn’t either.

Doyoung’s lips always felt good on your skin, but having him suck and bite on you was incomparable. You felt like a teenager in love for the very first time, infatuated with this newfound feeling and dreading the end. Your breath was hitching as his mouth blemished your stomach, an array of marks forming delicately. Heat suffocated your body as the room seemed to only grow hotter, and you wondered if it was all in your mind or if he felt it too.

You were practically covered head to toe in red blotches when he was finished with you. For a while Doyoung watched your chest rise and fall rapidly with a proud glint in his eye, evidently pleased with his hard work. And nothing felt better than having traces of him all over your body. It felt scandalous, but you liked it.

He rose up to lean in your ear and ask, “I’m gonna eat you out now. Is that okay with you, baby?”

You nodded without wasting a moment of time. It was more than okay if you were being honest, you were needy for him and whatever bit of him you could get.

Doyoung was straight to the action when he positioned himself between your thighs, and the contrast from his previous slow-paced actions gave you whiplash. Your mouth parted open in a moan and you fixed your hands back on his black locks, observing on your back how his tongue moved relentlessly against you.

It was dangerous that he knew your body’s ins and outs. Doyoung had a superpower where he could see right through you. He knew what made you tick. He knew exactly where to touch you and where you were most sensitive. He knew the difference between what felt just good and what left your skin scorching with desire. You suspected that there was a blueprint to your body engraved behind his eyelids. Then again, after two years of this routine - sneaking away to screw one another until your bodies ached and maybe sometimes a little longer - it made sense that he had learned how your body worked.

And god, Doyoung loved how it responded to his touches. Your body always trembled a little, your thighs wavering as you struggled to handle the pleasure. Your breath got shallow and he was a sucker for the little exhales you emit whenever he did as little as touch you. You always reached out for something to clutch with all your might to help support yourself. You were tight as a bitch and there was never a dull moment being inside you. His mouth was watering at the mere thought of going bareback.

You cried as you felt close, “Doyoung, baby, fuck.”

“Let go,” he cooed, then his lips were back on your cunt.

There was no need for you to be told twice. Your grip on his hair tightened as you orgasmed, uncontrollably bucking up and grinding your hips into his mouth. A shriek came from your mouth as you finished, but Doyoung didn’t look like he was done with you just yet.

“One more time,” Doyoung said. He didn’t look willing to be deterred, already set on his mission before the words left his mouth. Still, he added tauntingly, “Unless, you can’t handle it.”

You fired immediately, “N-no, I can take it.”

Your squirming body and fucked out face betrayed your words, as well as the tremble in your voice, but Doyoung grinned condescendingly at how eager you still were to take everything that he was giving you.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then his mouth was set back on your cunt.

Although the first one worked like a charm, Doyoung had a new tactic this round - fingering you. His ring and middle fingers prodded you, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with your whimpers and stuck them in. All at once his mouth was sucking on you, his nose nudging your clit and it had you soaring through cloud nine. There was something about the way Doyoung made you feel that was incomparable to any other emotion ever evoked within you.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every move Doyoung made had you at least twice as blissed out. You couldn’t help but emit a cry of his name at even the slightest of contact, quickly becoming overwhelmed by pleasure. To make matters worse (better), Doyoung was like a storm and refused to let up. There was no other option than for you to take everything he was offering to the best of your ability, to prove that you could handle him just as much as you claimed. You weren’t one to tap out too easily.

The pressure was too much. Quicker than before, you were yet again close to imploding. His quite literally handy work was enough to shove you over the edge, and you barely had the chance to warn him before you were thrown over it.

“I’m…” was all you could say before you were screaming, body convulsing as your orgasm fell upon you once more. It was the second time tonight, but deep inside you knew that it was still far from the last.

Doyoung finally showed you mercy and pulled away this time around, lips all wet by the time that he was finished. There was nothing that you could say that would convey how you felt. You could only lie there in silence with your chest heaving at rapid speed as you tried to endure your daze.

“Think you can still handle it?” He asked with a smile.

You were offended that he doubted you. “Try me.”

He didn’t wait around. Doyoung was lining himself up at your slit in mere seconds and the feeling of his tip brushing against it was making you drastically impatient. Moments like this made days without fucking him feel like weeks.

Finally he pushed into you, at a pace so slow it was almost agonizing. Doyoung leant his head back with a moan at that very moment, adjusting to the feeling of your bare walls. You felt tighter, wetter and warmer, and he already felt as if he could bust. Especially when you instantly clenched upon his entrance. One round definitely wasn’t going to be enough.

“S-shit,” you moaned, a clear waver in your voice. There was nothing else that you needed to say - your body definitely gave away how pleased you were to feel him. Your head lolled back against the pillow and you sighed in satisfaction.

As his hips rocked back and forth, the thoughts inside Doyoung’s brains only developed more and more, all of them centered around you. For one, he thought that there wasn’t a single word that could describe how beautiful you looked underneath him. Moonlight snook past the curtains and glimmered on your exposed skin, highlighting your breast and face. The fucked out expression you wore on your face only expanded his urge to keep you up all night, rocking into you slowly and steadily to savor the moment. The marks he left on you also bathed in the moonlight. That was all it took for Doyoung to lose his mind.

Second of all, Doyoung couldn’t fathom why he waited so long to fuck you raw. Sex with you would always be amazing regardless of what either of you chose to do, but he knew it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t prefer it this way. From the looks of it, you felt the exact same.

Doyoung swooped you into a sudden kiss, effectively cutting off your moans. You instead whimpered into his mouth with pleasant surprise, kissing him back with the same passion. When he was satisfied he pulled back and murmured, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

His praise was your poison. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by him, and even if it was wrong you wouldn’t have it any other way. All your worries vanished when you had Doyoung by your side. When he touched you, you couldn’t even think of anyone - or anything - else besides him. You were all about him, and there wasn’t a single other person that could make you feel the way that he did. There wasn’t anyone who could please or satisfy you just like Doyoung.

You liked that Doyoung didn’t throw words around either. When he called you beautiful, he showed you that he meant it. His fingers and lips scattered around your body, hands grabbing your breast as his mouth sucked more marks into any available space. He meant it when he said that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. To him, there was no such thing as enough.

That’s when you realized you and Doyoung may have mirrored one another. Too much greed in your hearts to ever be satiated, and perhaps that’s why you were a perfect match. You could attempt to drain one another completely, milk each other dry, and still never exhaust.

“You’re mine,” Doyoung whispered between pecks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You stammered, “I’m yours.”

Doyoung moved his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing to their content. “Again.”

“I’m… I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doyoung,” you cried. You had meant it. Your body longed for him. After two entire years of this, you felt like your body belonged to him.

Satisfied, Doyoung kept up his actions. You were clueless as to how loud either of you were being in that moment. The bed creaked some and there was a loud smack whenever his hips slammed into yours, but you were only focused on Doyoung. Beads of sweat collected on his skin yet there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion on his face; only pleasure. His bare, sweaty chest glistened in the moonlight, and you desperately wanted to mark him back. Just like he’d done you.

It was too bad that he had someone to come back to. He may not have had sex with his wife, but there were other instances where she was bound to see his body and it was too risky. The only reason either of you cared was not because he was afraid of her finding out that he was cheating back, but because there was a chance that she’d put the pieces together. All it took was a name and you would be in hot water.

That thought made something in you sullen, and you had to dispose of the feeling quickly.

“You’re mine, too,” you said. “Right?”

Doyoung reached for your hand and slipped his fingers between yours. “I’m all yours, I promise. You’re my one and only.”

That was enough to placate you. Doyoung belonged to you and you belonged to him, you didn’t care what the documents said. He was all yours.

Now you were approaching your climax, and by the death grip Doyoung was currently holding on your hips you could tell that you weren’t alone. His moans were getting louder and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to bust.

“Breed me, Doyoung, please,” you begged. You had reached a point of desperacy, rolling your hips into his to match his thrusts as you chased your orgasm. “Breed me, breed me, breed me.”

“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned. You were driving him crazy. It meant everything to know that you wanted this just as badly as he did. “I’m gonna give it all to you, babe.”

Your vision clouded with nothing but white when you reached your climax, squeezing Doyoung’s hand for leverage. As your limbs shook, your mouth gaped in moans but your cunt tightened around Doyoung. That was the last straw for him, the last push he needed. His moans resounded throughout the room as his warm cum coated your walls, filling you to your brim. He came a lot, but you weren’t complaining. The feeling of his seed inside you was ever so quickly becoming one of your favorites.

When he pulled out, Doyoung proudly watched how his cum trickled from you. He wanted to do it over and over again. The clock on the nightstand read two A.M., and that’s when he knew that this night was going to last until the morning.

“Wanted this ever since I first saw you with Daphne. You’re so good with her,” Doyoung said, and you vaguely recalled the time he was talking about. He was trying to keep her entertained and you happened to be fairly good with children. “Knew I had to put a baby in you. I’m gonna breed you for real one day. I promise.”

“Doyoung,” you whined.

He didn’t stop. “You want that, yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned. There was no plan of stopping.

By the time Doyoung did finally stop, it was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. You giggled when he finally tapped out and fell beside you, and grabbed his face to kiss him on his lips.

Doyoung smiled. “I love you.”

You froze for a moment. “You mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, then added, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure shit out. All that matters is I got you and you got me, and I won’t let anything come between us.”

It felt like there was a wait lifted from your shoulders. You weren’t free to love him whenever or wherever, but you were free to love him however much you wanted. That made it feel okay.

You pecked his lips again. “I love you, too. I’ll wait for us.”

Doyoung held you in his arms. He could only say that you were like a daydream to him, everything he could have ever wanted wrapped into one. There wasn’t one damn thing about you that he didn’t adore. You made his heart sing and dance, and he hoped his body said everything that words could not. There was no way he could explain what he felt about you.

You and Doyoung’s love was straight out of a movie. And this was only the beginning to your chase for a happily ever after.

#doyoung smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #kim doyoung smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

[sage-green-matcha]

KILL FOR YOU - ETHAN LANDRY 🔪

having a little fun with Ethan after your murder spree <3

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: Smut! P in V sex, blowjob, a bit of overstim! Mentions of blood, murder, gf!Reader, gf!Ethan

A/n: I love writing psychopath reader 💪

<3

<3

<3

It was off-putting, the way you hummed as you cleaned the pool of blood below you. Ethan paced back and forth as you scrubbed, trying to process what you had just done.

"Please stop spreading the blood" He left prints of red as he walked, making you have to clean up an even bigger mess.

"Sorry..." He felt his chest tighten as he listened to your calm words. It's like you had done this thousands of times before. You were so calm, so confident.

"You said you wanted me to help you with this, E" You mumbled, collecting more water into your bloody sponge.

"Do you regret it?" You asked so nicely, looking up at him with your soft, doughy eyes.

"No...I don't know" His eyebrows furrowed and you smiled, going back to cleaning.

"Richie is proud of you, you know that...right?"

To make Richie proud was all he ever wanted. Sure his father was some half-ass cop and he wanted to make him proud too. But to make Richie like him was all he ever wanted. He always looked up to him, and when he saw what he did in Woodsbooroe he knew he had to do the same.

You know, to carry the legacy.

But it wasn't him who killed the group of friends. It was you.

You knew Ethan's plan would let you experience some of your deepest desires.

The rush of killing was like no other. You felt your body get hot with each stab, every splash of blood that hit your face made you excited.

Ethan watched in horror, he thought he would enjoy watching his brother's murderers get killed. But it was the total opposite.

His skin crawled and he cringed each time the blade made contact with skin. He thought about telling you to stop, telling you he wanted to call off the plan. But it had fallen too deep, there was no going back.

"I know" he gulped and you watched as he slipped his shoes off, carefully to make sure you wouldn’t get upset.

He sat on the couch as you finished cleaning, resting his head back while trying to think.

Your eyes watched Ethan carefully, noticing how tense he was. Maybe it was because of the heavy bodies he had just dragged, or he was just stressed about what to do next.

Whatever it was, you knew you could help him.

You sat down on the sparkling wood floor. The one that was just covered in blood. But you didn't make that connection, you were too focused on Ethan.

You traced small circles on his knee, making Ethan look down at you with intimidation in his eyes.

He wasn't sure how to feel. You looked so cute, so innocent. But what you had just done made him question that.

"Talk to me" Your face was squished up against the soft cushion, your finger still moving up and down his leg.

He hesitated as he went to speak, opening his mouth before quickly closing it. "Was this the right thing to do?"

You batted your eyelashes. You were obviously annoyed. He had just had you kill 4 people...for nothing? But you didn't say that you didn't say anything. Instead, you comforted him.

"It was the best option, Ethan. The only option"

"I know, I'm just..." He bit down hard on his lip, scared to admit how he was feeling.

"I'm just confused, I thought if they were dead I would feel better...but I feel the same"

"Let me help you feel better"

The feeling in the room changed. The awkward tension became sexual and it flowed perfectly throughout the quiet room.

He wasn't sure if now was the time for something like this. But yet again, he would never say no to you. You were just trying to help him. And maybe this was just what he needed.

His cheeks were flushed pink as he nodded, giving you the green light.

Usually, you went slow with him. Giving him a handjob till you stuck his cum covered tip in your drooling mouth.

But this time you didn't have patience for any of that, and neither did Ethan.

You sat yourself between his legs, carefully undoing his belt before reaching into his boxers.

Ethan's heart raced, his tummy filled with butterflies as your hand wrapped around his warm cock.

You almost forgot how perfectly he fit in the palm of your hand, slowly pumping his hard shaft.

He shivered as you spit into your hand, a lewd moan falling from his mouth while you watched with amusement.

Precum leaked from his tip, matching the shiny spit on his cock. With every stroke you felt his veins engrave into your hand, memorizing them.

Ethan was so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn't notice you getting closer. When you paused he let out a small whimper, missing your touch.

But he wouldn't complain again, not when your lips were wrapped around him. Your tongue swirled on his tip, kissing and sucking with your entire mouth.

Ethan basically levitated, his hips twitching forward while his eyes were closed tightly.

He pushed himself deeper into your mouth, a small gag coming from your throat.

The sound made him reach for more, thrusting himself into your neck desperately.

"Shit y/n, fuckfuckfuck" Whimpers fell from your lips while tears escaped your eyes. He barely fluttered his eyes open to see you choking on his cock, the sight being one he had imagined hundreds of times before.

He felt a tight feeling in his stomach, his cock twitching in your mouth before you pulled away.

"Why...why'd you stop?" His chest rose up and down with each heavy breath. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were open just enough to see you unbutton your jeans.

You sat yourself on top of his lap, moving your panties to the side before sliding his length up and down your slit.

You shivered at the feeling, your juices mixing into each other.

Ethan placed his hand on your waist, holding back whimpers and moans while you held onto his cock.

It wasn't like Ethan to get impatient, he was always good for you. But he was desperate, pushing your hips down with a harsh motion.

You let out a small gasp, feeling his veiny cock fill you up. He stretched you out so well, making you hold onto his shoulders.

Before you moved you pushed yourself all the way down, taking every inch of him. You squeezed him tightly, whimpering at the feeling of your hole being fully stretched out.

Gently you rolled your hips, biting your lip to hide any noises. Ethan’s eyes were closed tightly, his mouth wide open while small moans fell from his lips.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, your head falling onto his shoulder.

You could hear his muffled whines above you, his hands grabbing all over your thighs and ass.

“Shit, Eth. Making me feel so good” You could barely speak as you felt him inside of you, the feeling making you melt. You were never verbal during sex, but Ethan could get used to it.

He trusted his hips forward, his tip making contact with your G spot. Mumbled moans fell from your lips as sweat formed on your forehead.

“Y/n…” A quiet groan fell from his lips, stopped by your teeth digging into his clothed shoulder.

You pushed your hand under his shirt, running it on his toned chest. “Take it off”

You continued to bounce as he slipped it off, Ethan messily throwing it to the side.

Your nails scratched at his chest, your mumbled moans against his skin.

“M close” Ethan's grip got tighter, the pain from your nails shooting straight to his cock. “Cum in me”

All you wanted was to feel Ethan, to hold him close and make him feel better. You needed all of him.

He trembled at your words, his nails digging into your waist. Marks formed in your skin, deep and red but the pain felt so good.

Your face smushed against his chest as his legs started to shake. His cock twitched inside of you, the feeling of hot cum shooting into your pussy.

He tried to breathe but you were desperate for your release, overstimulating Ethan. Your legs began to shake and you melted into him once again, gasps falling messily out of your mouth.

You felt the tie in your stomach snap, legs still shaking as cum dripped out of your hole.

You pulled him into a messy kiss, running your hands through his hair. You weren’t one to express how you felt, but you needed to tell him. It overpowered everything that had just happened and you wanted him to know.

“I love you Eth, I’d kill for you again and again”

#ethan landry #fanfic #jack champion #scream #celebrities #cute #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #avatar #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion oneshot #jack champion x y/n #jack champion scream #ethan landry fluff #jack champion fluff #ethan landry angst #jack champion angst #jack champion fanfic #scream 6 #scream vi #scream franchise #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry scream #scream smut #scream 6 smut #scream movies #scream movie

[megamindsecretlair]

A Hold On You

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.

Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. On date night, he hits you with a proposition.

Word Count: 3,039k

Part 2

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Whew, it pays to be feral ASF for Damson. That man is lethal. I don't even want kids and I want his babies. I'm sorry if this triggers some! Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf

“Have my baby,” Franklin said. 

Your head whipped to the side so fast that you almost got whiplash. An ache pulsed in your neck and you rubbed it as you stared at Franklin. You sat on the floor, on a blanket, with a light dinner spread out between you and Franklin. 

Moonlight poured into the living room, illuminating the space and lighting up Franklin’s gorgeous face. You expected him to start laughing or look away from you. To break the tension somehow. 

Instead, he gave you an unreadable look. He retreated behind whatever invisible wall there was in his mind. He had one leg down and one leg up, his arm resting on his knee, and his hands clasped in front of him. He was a study in patience as he stared you down. 

“You’re not serious,” you said.

“As a heartache,” he said. 

You lowered the finger sandwich from your lips and finished chewing. You continued to stare at Franklin. Were you sleeping? Did you pass out and imagined having dinner with Franklin? 

You put the sandwich on the plate and brushed your hands over the plate for stray crumbs. You looked away from him. Your stomach bubbled. Your hands began to shake. 

“The type of business you’re in doesn’t scream safe for kids,” you said. You tried to be delicate, but the neighborhood was still buzzing about little Tianna. 

Franklin nodded. “I understand, but that’s different. I can protect us,” he said and finally cracked his mask. He smiled briefly. 

“Franklin,” you said and shook your head. “There would be no hiding that. What the hell would I do? Become a housewife, lamp up, and get fat?” You asked.

You shuddered and thought about that scenario. You’d certainly enjoy the sex, but you couldn’t imagine spitting kids out like that. 

Franklin laughed. “Naw, but a home office could be arranged. Bodyguard for when you go out,” he said.

“A bodyguard? That’s romantic,” you said and rolled your eyes. 

“Have my baby,” he said. He pushed plates out of your way and got to his knees. He crawled closer, giving you wide puppy eyes. Kneeling, he was still way taller than you. He leaned in and kissed you. 

He leaned back with a satisfied hum. He kissed your jaw and then your cheek. He returned to your lips and hovered. When he licked his lips, you felt it. When he breathed through his mouth, the air swept over your wet lips. He was just shy of kissing you and you leaned in to close the gap but he leaned back at the same time. 

“Just say yes,” he said. 

“But then I’d be fat and gross,” you said. 

Franklin smiled against your lips. You had closed your eyes when he started kissing you, so you opened them now. He must have sensed it, because he opened his eyes at the same time. 

“Impossible. You’d be even more gorgeous,” he said. 

“I’d whine and complain about everything,” you continued.

Light danced in Franklin’s eyes. He licked his lips and his tongue swept your lips. 

“I’d love to hear your sexy voice,” he said. He finally pressed his lips against yours. He hummed, pressing closer. You sighed against him. He took the opportunity to lick his way into your mouth. 

You moaned softly, already feeling so needy for him. Your toes flexed as you kissed, loving the feeling of him being so close. You rubbed your hands up and down his strong arms. His hands cupped your face. He held you in place, exactly as you were. 

“I’d crave weird things and demand them at 2am,” you said, when you broke apart just far enough to gasp. 

“Shit, I like drivin’ at night,” he said. 

You giggled and shook your head.  “You’re crazy. Who gon’ get up at all hours of the night feeding it?” You asked. 

Franklin began to kiss your neck, murmuring in between pecks. “We’ll both do it, so we’ll both be miserable,” he said.

You pushed him and sucked your teeth. He laughed and rocked back. He brought his lips back to your neck. “I’ll let you get all the beauty rest you deserve after delivering my baby,” he said. 

Your pussy clenched and you huffed. This couldn’t actually be turning you on, right? And yet, looking at him, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind. You would happily have his kids. You would love little sons that looked like mini versions of him. They’d keep their heads held high because that’s how much awe Franklin inspired. 

You’d be so grateful to have his daughters, that looked like a mix between you. And they’d all have his brain. Franklin was easily the smartest man you’d ever met. It scared you sometimes. You felt like he was born in the wrong era. He belonged in the future with more people to appreciate his intellect. 

Franklin hummed his appreciation down your neck and across your exposed chest. The dress you wore had a deeper neckline than what you usually wore and Franklin took advantage. His right hand massaged the back of your neck. His left hand pushed more plates out of your way. There was a tray at the top of the blanket to hold your drinks. 

When the blanket was clear, Franklin pushed you onto your back. Between the carpet and the thick blanket, this position was surprisingly comfortable. 

Franklin settled to the side of you. He threw his right leg over yours, his thick erection settling against your hips.  You gasped and Franklin smiled against your skin. He leaned on his left hand while he took his time undoing the buttons of your dress. 

The purple checkered dress complimented your skin tone well. He undid the few, big black buttons. Each one gave way and freed your aching breasts. Your nipples were perking up and rubbed against your bra. 

As he revealed more of you with the buttons, he kissed each inch of space. “You’d look so fuckin’ beautiful full of the seed I gave you,” he said. 

You shivered and looked at him. His head moved over your body. His beautiful lips felt like heaven against your skin. 

Franklin reached the bottom-most button that ended up just above your navel. This, too, he paid attention to. Your hands dug into his little fro as he swirled his tongue around your tummy. 

Your breathing increased as your eyes started to roll. “Oh, fuck,” you said. 

His right hand grabbed the hem of your dress but he didn’t move it further. Your eyes snapped open to look at him and his eyes were closed tightly. He opened them slowly. 

“I’d love to watch this sexy ass body change, knowing you’re carrying my baby,” he said. 

Your arousal began to leak out of you. You moaned at the sensation. He leaned down and kissed your tummy again. “Watch this stomach get bigger and bigger,” he continued. 

He trailed his finger up your body and played with the strip of fabric in between your bra cups. He kissed the top of your right titty. Then he sucked your nipple into his mouth through your bra. 

You hissed and you jerked, your thigh spasming randomly. Your hands ran over his shoulders as he continued. “Hm, and these titties would get bigger for sho,” he said. 

His hand returned to the hem of your dress and pushed it up. His hand found the core of you and palmed you. You gasped, your breath dragging over your throat. 

He thumb stroked you from over your panties and you groaned. “Please, please, I need more,” you said. 

“Let me cum in that pussy then,” he said. 

You hiccuped as you laughed, not able to gather that much air. This was so dangerous. And yet…

You found yourself opening your legs wider, giving him more space. His thumb reached under your panties and he pressed down, rubbing against your pussy. He pushed into your entrance and you moaned, throwing your head against the floor. 

Franklin put his lips next to your ear. “Let me fill you up. And keep fillin’ you up,” he said. 

“Oh fuck,” you cried. The thought of being filled up by him had you rolling your hips. You needed him higher. On that needy little nub that always gave you away. Franklin could smile at you and your clit would throb. He could walk into the room and flood your panties within a second. It ought to be illegal having this type of visceral reaction to him. It was lethal. 

If Franklin ever figured it out, you’d never be safe from him. He’d have you to agree to steal the torch from the Colosseum. There was nothing he couldn’t do to your body that you weren’t already begging for.

“Are you sure? You’d be stuck with me,” you said. It was a last ditch effort. What if you really did turn up pregnant and he ended up resenting that fact? You knew without a doubt that Franklin would make an amazing father. You just weren’t so sure that he wouldn’t hate your guts after.

It was a stupid fear. Franklin had never given you reason to believe that he wasn’t into you. But after everything he had been through the past few months, you wondered if he wasn’t rushing into this. 

“I know…I know that it was hard feeling like everyone leaves. But I won’t leave,” you promised. 

Franklin brought his head up to look into your eyes. He kept up those delicious circles on your clit. Your body pulsed with tension and relief. Your thighs shook violently. He kissed you, his lips remaining on yours for longer than a few seconds.

“I know. I promise, this isn’t anything other than wanting you. Loving you. Leaving a mark behind so you’ll remember me forever,” he said. 

He moved his hand faster and little desperate cries began to leave you. Pressure built and built until you exploded, coming undone under his expert fingers. He whispered things into your ear; nasty things about what he wanted to do to you. How sometimes he wanted to drive you wild with his dick from sun up to sun down. 

How he wanted to devour you, lick and suck his way to hearing you screaming his name. As you convulsed beneath him, he kissed your chest, sucking your nipple back into his mouth through the bra.

“There’s no way I’d forget you, Franklin,” you said. 

“I know,” he said. He pulled his hand away from your clit and painted your lips with your juices. “Suck.”

You began to suckle his thumb, sucking all of your arousal off of his thumb. You moaned around the taste of yourself on his big hand. You clung to his wrist as you suckled harder. 

“See you do shit like that and it...” he made a strangled noise. “I want to just use you.” 

You bit your lip and closed your legs, seeking relief from the inferno roaring inside of you. That orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. 

You leaned up on your elbows and looked at his face. The moonlight played across his features like a delicate lightshow. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to do with me,” you said. 

Franklin took a long, deep breath and blew the air out of his mouth. “Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. His voice grew deeper, the low tones dancing along the back of your head. 

“Whatever. You. Fuckin’. Want,” you said. Each word was punctuated with a kiss. Franklin growled and leaned back on his knees. 

He grabbed your waist and flipped you over. You landed on your stomach with a soft, “Oof.” Franklin pulled the sides of your dress down and off of your arms. He released the clasp of your bra and pulled that off as well. 

Air hit your wet nipple making it pebble. It rubbed against the blanket and you moaned. He pulled your hips up until you were on your knees. He pushed up your dress, exposing your ass. He grabbed both globes of your ass and squeezed.

The mounting pressure made you cry out. “Oh, spank it, Daddy,” you said. 

Franklin obliged, spanking your ass. The smack bounced off the walls. Red, hot fire bloomed on your left ass cheek. You bit your lip and dipped over further, arching your back. 

Franklin pushed your panties to the side. Arousal escaped you. Franklin gathered it up with the tip of his dick. He moaned at how wet your pussy was. He faced no resistance as he slipped inside.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned together. Your shriek ended on a whine as he slid in and out with ease. Your hands clenched and unclenched the blanket, looking for any type of crutch or anchor. Something to weigh you down when your body so desperately wanted to float away. 

You reached the pinnacle of bliss. Franklin worked his hips slow at first, letting you attempt to get used to him. But he started to jerk, his hold more bruising, his fingers pulling you onto him.

You matched his strokes, throwing your ass back on him. Your thighs slapped together loudly and lewdly. He smacked your ass a few more times and groaned when you clenched around his dick. 

“Fuck, I’m gon’ cum in this pussy. You gon’ carry my baby,” he said. Each promise was a hard jerk, pulling you onto him so completely that he bottomed out. His dick continued to spear inside of you, touching a primal part of you.

“Oh right there, right there, Franklin,” you moaned and chanted. Your belly tightened and tightened, curling into a little, tiny ball. 

“Fuck me,” he moaned as he rammed into you. He rutted into you. Driving you down onto his dick like he wanted to carve his name inside of your pussy. As if he could brand himself there. Sear himself and leave such an impression behind. As if by sheer force of will, he could mold your pussy around his dick. 

“Oh, cum in me, Daddy,” you moaned. “Give it to me.” 

“Take this baby,” he chanted. It was both a promise and a determination. He spoke it into the universe. Writing your fates among the stars and daring to be denied.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried. That tight ball of pressure finally unraveled, turning you into a limp noodle as your orgasm ripped through you. It pulled you apart, one stitch at a time. Pleasure rippled throughout your body and you cried out, the blanket muffling some of it. 

Franklin could barely keep his hands on you as he unloaded into you. His spurts of cum were hot, scalding, painting your insides with the essence of him. “Shit,” he groaned as he dumped his load inside of you. 

You both panted as you came down, your breaths mingling as you both tried to return to your bodies. Franklin pulled you up and on your side. You groaned as he slipped out of you. There was a squelching that you felt and heard and you moaned again. He laid down behind you, molding his body against yours.

You felt his dick slide wetly into the crook of your ass. Franklin absently kissed your neck. He raised your left leg and brought it to rest across his long legs. 

“Get these wet for me,” he said. He brought his fingers to your mouth. You suckled and drooled on his fingers. He then brought his wet fingers to your clit and played with you. You jerked and moaned, trying to escape.

He moved his right arm under your neck and pulled you against him. His biceps flexed against your neck and you made unholy, guttural noises. His left hand continued to please you, pushing you past the point of arousal. 

Your senses were full of him. The way he smelled right now, the sound of his breaths in your ear. “Where you think you goin’?” He asked. The sight of his thick arm around your neck, the way his dangling fingers pulled at your nipples. 

His fingers dipped into your entrance and massaged your spongy walls. “Naw, hold that shit in for me,” he said. 

He massaged his cum back into you, pushing it higher and higher. You felt so stuffed and full that despite cumming so many times close together, your body reacted just as hungrily. Gobbling up his fingers and his cum. 

“Franklin,” you called out, tears running down your cheeks. He had to feel them. His shoulder was beneath your head. The tears ran down and to the side, splashing onto him. He kissed and licked your ear. 

“I know, I know, baby,” he whispered. 

You twitched and gyrated on the floor, robbed of seeing his face. Your hands searched the blanket for purchase. You felt his dick twitch against your ass. 

“Oh, no,” you groaned before another orgasm left you shaking. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your mumbled speech was incoherent as pleasure made you growl like an animal. But fuck, you felt so fucking good that you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Your limbs moved of their own accord. 

“No more,” you gasped out. Fuck, you couldn’t take another one. Not right now. You were far too sensitive, jerking at every new touch and slide of his fingers. Franklin stilled his fingers, tugged on your nipple and kissed your neck. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. He brought his left hand up to rub your belly as if he could already imagine it swollen and stiff with his son or daughter. He pressed on your tummy, massaging it. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said. 

You were too tired to give him a proper response. You kissed his arm and he moved until you pressed into his chest. He wrapped his arm completely over your middle. “I’ll protect us, babe. Come whatever tries to get between us. I’ll do everything in my power to keep us safe.”

Somehow, you completely believed him. You laid there and talked with him about everything you could think of. You both passed out somewhere around the moonlight disappearing and the sunlight returning.

You know you need more in your life: The Secret Franklin Saint Files

There is now a Part 2!

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Franklin Saint Files #Franklin Saint x Black!reader #Franklin Saint x Black reader #Franklin Saint x Fem!reader #Franklin Saint x Fem reader #Franklin Saint x plus size reader #Franklin Saint x reader #x Black reader #Franklin Saint x you #Franklin Saint imagine #Franklin Saint smut #Franklin Saint fanfic #Franklin Saint fan fic #Franklin Saint fanfiction #Franklin Saint fan fiction #Snowfall fanfic #Snowfall fan fic #Snowfall fan fiction #Snowfall fanfiction

[downbadf0rficppl]

always been you

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Miscommunications happen. Less so when you work in communications, but they happen.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight blood warning, a smidge of angst, and a handful of smut :)

Repost

Home meant different things to different people. To some, it meant green rolling hills and the sound of wild animals running through the forests, some hunting, some hiding. To some, it looked more like the cold cityscapes of somewhere like Corellia or Daiyu - where day could be night and night could be day because the city never slept. More like the planet never slept.

To you, home meant a dark room in the back of the compound on D'Qar, where you sat for hours on end. It meant the whirring of plane engines and the whooshing of blast doors. It meant ration meals and celebrating when there were enough jogan fruits in season to make jogan fruitcake. It meant the constant fear that someone you loved may not come home.

You had grown up on Dantooine, maintaining the old rebel base there with your father - an ex-pilot with the rebellion. He'd taught you all about the world of space flight and you'd decided early on that maybe you preferred the ground. Oh, the irony.

At 19, you moved to Coruscant - under no threat from enemies, the base on Dantooine was not needed. You moved away to find a job that could give a life of comfort. Maybe you just needed some excitement in your life that didn't involve exploding wires or stealing your dad's glasses.

When General Organa started recruiting for the resistance, you were one of the first ones there. You distanced yourself from your father's legacy, not wanting the pressure of being someone's someone to be held over your head.

You settled into the anonymity of comms comfortably, making decent friends with your co-workers.

Days came and went working for the resistance. Soon enough, you'd been for a year, and then 2, and then it had been so long since you'd left Dantooine that you could barely remember what your life was like there.

The cantina was empty when you walked in. To your knowledge, black and blue squadrons were out on a field mission, but no one else was in sight. You walked around the base, looking for any signs of life. Dear Maker, had they all evacuated and forgotten about you.

You walked over to the med wing, hoping to see someone. And you saw, well, everyone. Apparently, half of those on base had come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You were called in to speak with General Organa, who assigned you double and triple shifts, considering you were the only one of 6 comms officers who hadn't come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You had spent all day, without rest, in comms, checking data logs for gold squadron, assisting in decoding transmission, and helping base mechanics with routine repairs. Essentially a normal day in the office, but six-fold the responsibilities. You went to bed, with your head swimming with responsibilities for the next day - hopefully, someone would be able to help you.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring loudly. You groggily headed to the cantina for a cup of Caf before heading back to comms.

You picked some undecoded transmissions, before starting on some reports for General Organa. You barely had enough time to stop for a meal, grabbing the first thing you could see before heading back to comms.

Black and Blue squadron were currently MIA. They had radioed in earlier in the morning saying they were ok without radio connection while there was a shortage of comms officers. Still, it didn't mean you weren't worried about them.

"Black Leader to Base, come in."

You scrambled over to your headset and plugged it into the system, "Alpha 4 to Black Leader, you're a go for Base. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're running low on fuel, any republic supporters in the outer rim?" Poe's voice came through as you tried to lock on to his location.

"Where you are, the chances are slim, Black Leader." You sighed, as his location pops up on the screen. He was so far in the Outer Rim, where so many remained Empire supporters. Even with many ports on neighbouring planets, there were few ways that they could make it out of them safely.

You had an idea. "Black Leader, can you make a single jump."

"Just about."

"I'll send the coordinates, get ready to jump."

While Black and Blue Squadron jumped, you connected another line.

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." Your father's tired voice rang through the headset, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, dad-"

"It's ok, sweetheart. What do you need?"

"I have 2 squadrons that need fuel. Any chance you could help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. In fact, I've just seen them enter the atmosphere."

"Thanks, dad. Love you."

"I love you too."

Your dad cut the line to go and help the pilots. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You always felt guilty asking your father for help. He never quite knew how to say no.

You stayed up well into the early hours of the morning, signing off paperwork and compiling mission reports for Captain Dameron and Captain Wexley to sign off on.

In fact, you had worked so late that you heard Black and Blue Squadron's land the next morning. You heard them raucously walk through the halls to the cantina. You sighed. A small break wouldn't do any harm, right?

Wrong. As soon as you got up, a beeping from your headset rang through the room. General Holdo needed some data to do with her mission, so you were back to sifting through mission reports to send her what she needed.

By the time, you had signed off with her, Jak (one of your fellow comms officers) strolled into comms.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, "You're a legend, four."

You had known Jak since your days on Coruscant. You had shared an apartment when you were new to the city and he really showed you the ropes. You probably wouldn't be as trusted by the resistance as you were, had it not been for Jak.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

"I'm fine." He settled down next to you, grabbing a headset, "You, on the other hand, have seen better days. Maker, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror!"

You punched him in the arm, "My name's not Captain I-cannot-survive-without-my-mirrors Dameron." He feigned an injury, falling onto the floor and hollering in pain. The delirium of sleep deprivation was getting you, as you doubled over in fits of giggles, tears streaming down your face.

In fact, you were laughing so hard, you didn't even hear Captain Dameron walk in.

"What's so funny?" He said, walking in and clapping Jak on the back. The two of you looked at each other, and burst into more fits of giggles. "You know what, I'm just not going to ask." Jak handed him the stack of papers that you had left for him to sign off.

Dameron walked out with the sheets, and you stood up to stretch your back. "You should get some food in you," Jak nods towards the Cantina, "I can hold the fort down until you get back."

The cantina is practically empty when you walk in, and you grab a sandwich before heading back to comms. What greets you is a relieving sight. Two of the other comms officers have returned to comms.

"You look rough," Drex said, nursing a healing tonic from med bay. Clearly, they were still suffering the after-effects of the food poisoning.

"So, I've been told," you elbowed Jak in the ribs as he laughed heartily. You sat down and returned to the paperwork you had left behind. A connection came in, which Jak responded to immediately.

After a beat, he beckoned you over, handing you the headset, "It's your favourite. Captain Dameron."

You let out a huff, before putting the headset on. You sat down.

"Alpha 4 for Black Leader, you're a go."

"Well, hello, my new favourite comms officer. How are you on this fine morning?" He said, smugness colouring his tone as he prepared to take off.

"I hope you aren't trying to flirt with me, Poe?" You smirked through your question.

"Oh, I am. I most definitely am." Poe laughed.

"How unfortunate for you." Poe laughed again.

You led him through his routine surveillance trip, making funny quips throughout. Poe responds almost exclusively through chortles and guffaws.

"How come I've never actually spoken to you on base?"

"I don't know, maybe because you've always got one of those pretty girls on your arm?"

"Oh, you're real pretty, Alpha 4, just gotta give me a chance, hun." Poe thought you were pretty.

You laugh again, "In your dreams, Captain."

There was a beat of silence, before Poe piped up, "someone special at home?" You swallow guiltily.

Ever since you first met Poe, you had been head over heels in love with him. Sure he was good-looking, and his reputation in the bedroom preceded him, but beyond that, he was charming, funny, and he cared. About everyone. Not just his superiors, or his friends, but even stupid kids who had no idea what they were doing when they landed on base.

You thought of his face, his beautifully warm brown eyes, his stupidly floppy hair, "Yeah, someone real special. I'm just hoping he'll give me a chance back on base."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"You're just saying that."

"I mean it, 4, he'd have to be blind to not see what a catch you are." You can tell by Poe's tone that he is being genuine.

"Thanks, Poe, you're clear to return to base. See on the other side."

You hear Poe land as you head back to your room. He calls your name as he is walking.

"Hey, 4, wait up!" You wait patiently as he, and BB8, catch up to you. "About this guy."

"Poe, let it go."

"I'm serious, 4. I can help you get that date."

"No, I mean it, Poe. Let it go. You can't help me here." You stare straight into his eyes. Big mistake. You get lost easily, wanting to let the warmth cocoon you into a false safety until the rest of eternity.

You shake yourself back to reality, walking away from him and leaving him confused and annoyed.

Days pass, and you find that Poe has pushed himself further and further away from you. You were still his chosen comms officer, but he avoided you on the base. You felt bad. He'd practically confessed that he thought you were pretty and you'd turned him away, letting him believe that there was someone you were pining after. Even though that person was Poe.

You had tried to talk to Poe before he went on a mission alone to Coruscant, but he walked away, feigning that he was busy. He even deflected your questions in the air, and turned his transmission signal off when he got to Coruscant. You were fuming.

How dare he put himself in danger with no chance of backup?

Realistically, your anger wasn't anger at all. You were worried for Poe. Even if he wasn't your Poe.

You vowed to have that conversation with him when he returned.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about you. He hadn't since he first spoke to you about 6 months ago. Before that, he just thought you were pretty. But once he realised that, not only were you beautiful, but you were also smart and had a sarcasm to match his, well he was a goner.

When you told him, that there was someone else, he saw red. He wanted to put his first through the fucker's face, but goddammit, he would do anything to help you.

So he offered to help you get that date. It was a mostly harmless offer, and he didn't really expect you to take him up on it, but he put it out there nonetheless.

What he didn't expect was for you to raise your voice and storm away. He was shocked.

He figured he overstepped some undrawn boundary, and he felt guilty. So he tried to give you space, give you distance. He'd give you anything if you even mentioned it once. But, jealousy took over his previously well-intentioned thoughts. If you wanted someone else, fine, you could have them. But Poe couldn't watch you get them.

He didn't want to take the mission on Coruscant. He wasn't a spy, he was a flamboyant and show-off-y pilot. But he didn't want to see you in another man's arms. So he took it.

That was what landed him in his current predicament: tied to a chair in the basement of one Zek Shadej - an ex-smuggler who turned to an arms dealership for the higher paycheck.

Zek slaps Poe. He demands, once again, to know what a pilot for the Resistance is doing at a gala for the low lives of the galaxy. He didn't word it that way but the sentiment still stands. Poe says nothing, just spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at Zek's shoes. Zek curses and heads to the door: "I'm done with him. Dispose of him."

The guards left in the room stalk toward him, blasters unsheathed and ready to fire. Poe uses the pin you gave him to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

It was his fifth birthday on base, he reckoned. With different systems, and different lengths of orbits, it was hard to know for sure, but he knew the rest of Black Squadron were planning his celebration for today. So he remained in bed, lying on top of the sheets, head propped up on his arm.

A gentle knock rang through his room. He'd told the person to come in, and you did. Armed with a giddy smile and a small wrapped package. Poe had no idea where you had found wrapping paper, or why you would buy him a present but here you were.

"Jess said it was your birthday today. Thought I'd give you something neat." You said, approaching him nervously. He swung his legs and sat upright, pulling your arm so you were standing right in front of him. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your kind face. You and Poe were hardly friends, but how he wished you could be more.

"So, what did you get for me, pretty girl?" Poe rests his callous hardened hands on your hips - he liked the feel of your soft skin under his palms. He also liked how sensitive you were to his touch - your flushed expression and lust-filled gaze confirmed it.

You handed him the small parcel, "I hope you like it."

He takes it from you, pulling you to sit beside him. He opens it with careful hands to find a small pin. A Yavin Parakeet. Poe's favourite bird.

"They used to symbolise freedom. Like you do." You whispered the last part.

Poe had never wanted to kiss you so much.

Poe threw the chair he had been sitting on at one of the guards. He landed on the floor with a loud groan, his blaster skidding to a halt at Poe's feet. It was Poe's lucky day.

He shot the other 2 guards, dashing out of the basement onto the catering floor. He escaped through a back door, a few of the staff giving his bloody face and dishevelled appearance a double look. He sprinted through the streets to a docking station a few miles east. Zek sent a few men after him, but Poe was smart, and he knew Coruscant well. He dodged the men, and fired up his X-wing. He had Leia's intel safely stored in his shirt pocket.

His X-wing was severely damaged - his landing gear compromised and the transmission antenna bent at an awkward angle. He took off precariously - he knew he'd have to stop somewhere to fix the ship and refuel. He remembered the old outpost on Dantooine. Your dad's outpost.

He lightspeed jumped into the sector, breaking through the atmosphere mere seconds later. The landing was rough and he saw your father running towards the ship, blaster raised.

"Come out, slowly and unarmed. Do anything I don't like the look of, and I shoot."

"It's me. It's Poe. I came by a couple of days ago. I promise I mean no harm."

The old man lowered his blaster. He tucked his shoulder under Poe and helped him inside, "Let's get you looked at, son." Despite the pain, Poe smiled. Son. He liked that.

Your father patched Poe up, offering him a nice meal and a shower. While Poe cleaned up, your father called you.

"Hey, dad, what can I do for you?" You respond, your brain still focussed on the transmissions you were decoding.

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't necessary-"

"I know, Dad. What do you need?"

"I got one of your guys," your ears pricked up, "and his ship is damaged. I need to know how to fix it. Think you can help?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't remember sending anyone your way though, think you can tell me who it is?"

Your dad grunts as he climbs up the ladder, radio tucked under his chin, "yeah, it's the pretty boy from a few days ago. The captain. Can't remember his name."

"It's Dameron. Who're you talking to?" Poe comes out wiping his hands on a towel. Despite this man being your father, years in the resistance had warned him against trusting strangers.

"My daughter. She's telling me how to fix your ship."

"4? I wouldn't trust her anywhere near my ship."

"I heard that you know," you laughed. You brought up the specs for the X-wing, "I'll send you a copy of the spec - that's probably more useful than anything I have to say."

Your dad laughed and you sent him the specs.

"Good luck, boys," you ended the transmission.

The rest of the day was spent fixing the ship. Poe and your dad made good small talk - they were both pilots. They had a lot in common. They also both loved you. They had that in common too.

"Go clean up, Poe. I'll make us dinner." Your father said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Poe smiled. He liked this life.

Poe was back on base by nightfall the next day. You waited for him as he got checked up on in med, and then you walked with him to his room. The silence was deafening.

You followed him into his room, watched his every movement. He milled about, putting on clean clothes, washing his hands, and combing through his hair. His whole body was still tensed up from the mission - you wanted to stop him, hug him, do something. But you couldn't. He didn't want you near him. He was angry at you, and rightfully so.

"Your dad's nice." You looked up at him. Poe still had his back turned, but his shoulder had relaxed. You wanted to run your fingers down his back. "Peculiar, but nice."

You smiled softly, "He's lonely. Not that fun living on an abandoned base in the middle of nowhere."

Poe sat down on his chair, and you walked towards him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, gently soothing the knots out of his muscles. He leaned his head back, a low moan of satisfaction left his throat. The sound went straight through your body, eliciting shivers.

"Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong," you whispered in his ear, not wanting to break the calmness that swept through the room.

Poe shook his head, bringing you in front of him. He leaned his head against your stomach, hands coming to rest at your hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he grunted in appreciation. You shivered again.

He chuckled, "you like that?" Your face blushed a bright red. Poe laughed again, before leaning to kiss your stomach. He kissed up through the valley in between your breasts, and up your neck. He stayed there for a minute, nipping and suckling at your neck, before making his way to your face.

He was fully standing now, his hands moved to your face, and he gently dotted kisses everywhere. Your cheeks. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at his ministrations. Your forehead, then your chin. He kissed the sides of your lips, and you let out a soft moan, begging for more.

"Greedy, are we?" He asked, his voice much lower than before. You opened your eyes to see a smug grin painted on his face. You didn't care.

You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. It seems he got the memo because as soon as his lips touched yours, he took over. His tongue slipped into your mouth and stroked yours gently.

He tapped your thigh gently, a signal to jump, and he carried you over to his bed, depositing you on the edge gently, dislodging his lips from yours. He knelt down in front of the bed, pulling your closer to him by your legs.

"Tell me to stop." He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, as he took your dishevelled appearance in. Like a predator looks at his prey.

"Please don't."

He pulled your boots and cargo pants off, kissing up your legs. The arousal pooled between your legs, and you moan.

"So fucking wet, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whine pathetically, trying to pull Poe closer to where you want him. He just laughs.

"Bet the other guy couldn't do this to you. That's why you need me, ain't that right?" You whine again, "Need me to take care of you, baby girl, ain't that right?"

"Please, Poe."

"Please what, baby girl? What do you need?" Poe whispers, cheekiness glinting in his eyes.

"Please, fuck me, Poe." He smiled.

"As you wish."

He pulled your underwear down your legs and stared enamoured between your trembling things, "Such a pretty fucking pussy."

You threw your head back as he dove face-first into your folds. He kissed your mound lightly, before rubbing soothing circles around your clit. You buck up, the pleasure unlike any you've ever known, and Poe presses a hand onto your abdomen, locking you in place.

"Don't deprive me of my meal, honey," He whispers into your pussy.

He continues his assault, testing the waters of what you did and didn't like. You liked when he went fast, when he went slow, you got impatient. Maybe it was time to teach you some patience. But the low whines and moans were too much for Poe to bear. Soon your thighs were clamped around his head as you let out a loud moan, and you came undone under his touch. He lapped up every last bit of your release as if he'd been left in the deserts of Jakku without any water for years. And the moans. Oh Maker, his moans. You thought it impossible for a man to enjoy himself that much. But from the way he gripped your thighs, and pulled his body in further, you could tell he never wanted to pull away.

You laid limp on the bed as Poe stood up, and peeled his clothes off his body. You stared shamelessly. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Poe shirtless, but you'd barred yourself from staring then. Now it was allowed.

He smiled at your shameless ogling, and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand up, pressed against him. You could feel his still-clothed cock, pushing into your abdomen, and you could feel it throbbing at the contact. You sunk down onto your knees, hands fiddling with his zipper.

He pulled you away and shook his head. "Not now."

He pushes you back onto the bed and crawls over you, his lips reconnecting to yours. He had unzipped his pants and kicked off his boots, leaving a pile on the floor.

"Tell me if it hurts." Poe kisses under your jaw before pushing inside.

Holy Maker, he's big.

His cock stretches you out deliciously. He pushes into you until he's settled within you and waits for you to adjust. The initial pain fades into pleasure and soon you're begging for him to move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. Bet you wouldn't beg for anyone else." Nevertheless, he moves.

He starts slow, getting used to feeling you around him. You want more.

"Please, Poe. Faster. Please, please, please." You beg him, screams ripping through your throat.

He picks up the pace, relentless now. Fast and hard. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, mixed together with both your moans. You feel the pressure building up and your moans get louder. Poe chased his own release as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Poe, I'm gonna... gonna come. Please, Poe..." Poe slowed down a fraction, pulling you further from the edge. You whined pathetically.

"Tell me you're mine. Only mine." You smiled through your lust-induced haze.

"Only yours, Poe. Always yours." He picked up the pace again, and the coil begins to tighten. Poe's moans push you over the edge, and you cum hard. So hard that your whole body feels electrified, your toes curling in pleasure. Poe fucks you through your high, turning your entire body to jelly. He pulls out and shoots his ropes over your body.

You smile. You lift a finger up to your chest and lick Poe's cum off your chest, moaning at the taste. The filth of the act clearly affected Poe, as his eyes closed in pleasure. He moaned lowly, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses to them. You closed your eyes, falling back onto the bed.

Poe disappeared into the refresher, grabbing a clean towel and dampening it, before returning to clean you up. You looked confused. No one had ever done that for you before. He wiped your chest and between your thighs, before carrying you to the bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes in Poe's refresher, before heading back out.

Poe was gone.

You were confused, given that he had changed his sheets and left you a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers to change into. You sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching your legs, a pleasant ache settling between them. Where the hell could he have gone?

A few seconds late, someone knocked, "Are you decent?" Poe.

"Yeah, come in." You stood up, shuffling your feet. Poe walked in, shirt almost completely undone, carrying 2 bottles of water from the cantina. Your heart almost burst.

He opened one of the bottles handing it to you, before leading you back to bed. You took a few sips, the coldness soothing your throat that was raw from screaming.

He laid back on his bed and beckoned your closer to him. You curled into his arms and reached up to fiddle with his hair. You both sat in silent reverie - taking in each other's company.

"Will I see you again?" Poe broke the silence timidly, running a knuckle over your cheek.

"You see me every day, Poe," You tease him gently, "You see me in the corridors, and in the cantina, and sometimes even after you get back from a mission." Poe slapped your ass, causing you to burst into laughter. He pulls you closer to his body.

"I mean it. Is this just a one-time thing? Given your - um - crush on the other guy?" You stay silent, "Is he a pilot? Is that why you're not telling me?" You nod your head, trying to hide your smile. You felt bad for not telling him, but it was funny.

"He's a pilot. But that's not why I'm not telling you." Poe frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Is he a superior officer? Does he live on base?"

You decide to keep teasing him, "Yeah, he's a Captain." You look into Poe's eyes. "He's definitely my favourite person on base." Poe's frown turns into a scowl.

"He has the most beautiful brown eyes and the most amazing hair that I always want to run my fingers through," You tangle your hair in his, pulling it just the way he likes. "He's cocky, and he's so sexy. And he knows that he's sexy too." Poe tries pushing you away, rolling from his side to his back, but you just cling to him tighter. You place a kiss on his jaw and then on his ear.

"Why are you here, then? In my bed? In my clothes?" He says, jealousy and annoyance evident in his voice. You feel bad.

"You wanna know his name?"

"Not really. Then I'd know who I wanna punch, but I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"I don't really think it's possible to punch yourself." Poe turns to face you, the jealousy in his eyes fading into hope.

"What?" You just smile. "You love me?"

"I didn't lie, Poe. I'm yours. Always yours." He kisses you, hard, not giving you any space to breathe.

"You're not just saying that," He breathes, pulling away just enough to speak. You reconnect your lips to his, and he pulls you on top of him, your thighs around his torso. You look deep into his eyes, his pupils so dilated as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"It's always been you."

fin.

buy me a coffee

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[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch

Chapter Eight:

The coffee machine gurgled in the quiet of the break room as Evelyn filled her cup, her hands carefully cradling her favorite pink mug as the steam raised in delicate swirls. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed substance wafted through the air, Evelyn was moments from savoring her first sip when Spencer made his entrance. 

He moved with an awkward grace, his lean frame wrapped in a sweater, the morning light casting a scholarly glow on his thoughtful expression. Evelyn took a moment, as she often did, to admire the earnest curiosity etched into his features. She pivoted gracefully, a playful glint in her eye, the corners crinkling in silent laughter.

"Morning, Dr. Reid," she chimed. "Joining me for the most important meal of the day?"

Spencer offered a small, hesitant grin, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as if anticipating an unwelcome audience. When he turned back, finding the coast clear, his gaze couldn't help but sweep over her, a slow, involuntary trail from her eyes down to her heels and back up again.

"Did you know caffeine can actually increase cortisol levels?" Spencer inquired, his tone shifting to that of a lecturer as he warmed to the subject. "Cortisol is secreted by the adrenal glands and plays a critical role in regulating various bodily functions. While it's essential for survival, elevated cortisol over prolonged periods can lead to a host of issues. So, while that cup of coffee might seem like a good idea, it's worth considering the potential endocrine implications."

Evelyn closed the distance between them with a playful step, her eyes gleaming. "I love when you talk nerdy to me, Dr. Reid," she started. "But if you deprive me of my morning coffee, I won't be the only ones suffering the consequences."

Spencer's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily giving Evelyn's ass a quick, teasing tap. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a feigned expression of shock. 

"In the workplace, Dr. Reid?" Evelyn chided, her voice laced with mock scandal.

Spencer's chuckle was a soft counterpart to the florescent hum of the break room. Evelyn stood there, the light catching the subtle highlights in her hair, her smartly tailored suit accentuating her figure.

"Speaking of which, and presuming your neurons are adequately myelinated for the day, how about those ground rules?" Spencer's question came with a half-smile.

"I'm going to pretend for a second that myelinated is part of my daily vocabulary," Evelyn retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. "Upstairs is all clear," she tapped her temple for emphasis before taking another step towards the genius, "but after last night, I can't say the same for downstairs."

Spencer cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as memories of the previous night flickered through his mind. "Don't start with me."

"Me? Start with you? Never," she said, her eyes dancing with humor. "But in all seriousness. This," she gestured between them, "stays between us. We can't do anything here."

She straightened up, her expression mock serious. "I'm already juggling enough with these legacy rumors. If I start adding 'sleeping with my mentor' to my resume, I'll need to write a survival guide."

Spencer's response was quick. "I can do that," he said, his eyes accusing. "As long as you behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, sir," she declared with a sly smile, her voice trailing off as she sauntered out of the break room, "my place or yours tonight?"

Spencer's hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently as if to ward off an impending headache, the universal gesture of a man both charmed and utterly undone by the woman before him.

--

The tech lab was alive with whirring machines and the subtle glow of displays. Evelyn glided into the room, her steps light and her grin spreading. 

The hum of computers and the soft glow of screens set the backdrop as Evelyn breezed into the tech lab, her steps light and her smile wide. She found Garcia, the queen of all things digital, her dominion sprawling before her in an array of flickering pixels and streaming data.

"Hey, P! Need your magic fingers to trace a number for me. And maybe sprinkle a little of that fairy dust to make the results come faster." Evelyn says with a lighthearted twinkle.

With a flourish, Garcia twirled in her chair, her clothes a riot of color that defied that room's monochrome sterility. She peered at Evelyn over the top of her pink-rimmed glasses, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Sweetie, you're radiating more energy than my entire tech setup. What's got you bouncing off the walls? Extra shot of your coffee or just high on life?" Penlope questioned, her voice laced with humor as she watched Evelyn practically vibrating through the room.

"What? No, I'm not. It's just a good day, that's all," Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.

Garcia tilted forward, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Miss Sunshine. You've got that 'I just got laid' glow," she pushed, "spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Garcia, quit it," she giggled, brushing off the insinuation with a wave of her hand. "There's no guy. Just... work stuff, you know?"

But Garcia remained skeptical, playfully wagging a finger bedecked with a glittering ring. "Oh, come on! You've got that look. The one that says, 'I did not get my eight hours, but boy, was it worth it.'"

Laughter spilled from Evelyn, a rich sound that reverberated against the walls. "Seriously, Penelope, drop it. I'm just happy. Can't a girl have a good day without an interrogation?"

Garcia shot her a knowing glance, but she conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook... for now. But I've got my eye on you. Now what's this number you need traced?"

Evelyn passed a slip of paper across the table, her grin unwavering. She offered a swift thanks and retreated to the bustling bullpen. 

Evelyn's desk was a splash of color in the otherwise muted tones of the bullpen. Pink post-its fluttered like flags, each scrawled with affirmations and tiny tributes to her teammates. Amidst this cheerful chaos, Hotch stood, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the landscape of girlish whimsy.

At the sight, Evelyn's steps hastened, she darted forward to intercept his gaze, positioning herself squarely before him. "Hotch, sir, hi! Can I help you with something?"

Hotch met her gaze, his eyebrow lifted in mild inquiry, the shadow of a smile on his face. "I was looking for the Simmons report. You were supposed to turn in it yesterday." He tried to peer around her, amusement flickering in his eyes at the sight of her cluttered workspace. 

His eyes settled on the pen holder, an extravagant display of sparkle and faux gems. He remarked with dry wit, "Does that... fit the bureau's decor standards?"

Evelyn's smile was unapologetic as she shrugged lightly. "Mm, probably not. But it brightens up the place don't you think?" She rifled through the stack of papers, her face a canvas of sheepish charm. "About that report... I, uh, totally forgot. But it will be done, pinky promise."

She extended her pinky towards him. Hotch regarded the small gesture, his features betraying no reaction. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but his stance was unwavering. "I'm not going to do that," he declared, eyes flicking to her upheld finger. "I expect the report on my desk by the end of the day."

Evelyn snapped to attention, grin never faltering. "Aye, aye, captain," she chimed cheerfully. "You'll have it before you can say 'bureaucracy'."

With a parting nod, he moved back to his office. In the corner, Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss stood in a tight knot, their quiet conversation floating in the air near the water cooler. 

"There's no way," Morgan asserted, his head moving in a firm denial, his eyes reflecting staunch disbelief.

"I told you soooo," Prentiss crooned, her voice dripping in smug satisfaction.

"Huh?" Evelyn's question hung in the air as she swiveled towards the group, her eyebrow arching in a silent demand for clarity. "What are you talking about?" 

"There's an ongoing bet to see how long it'll take you to really get in trouble with Hotch," JJ confesses, her grin spreading as she looked towards the other.

Evelyn's voice rose in protest. "What? I do get in trouble!" she insisted. "Did you not just see that? Or when I went rogue on my first takedown?"

Prentiss let out a soft chuckle, her eyes meeting Morgan's knowingly. "Please that was 'Evie trouble.' It's like being scolded by a teddy bear."

"And what does that even mean?" Evelyn asked, her laughter rising through the room as she shook her head.

"Baby girl, your definition of trouble with Hotch is a lot different than ours," Morgan said with a playful wag of his finger. "You barely get a slap on the wrist, while we'd get the whole paddle," he teased.

"That is so not true!" Evelyn's giggle bubbled up uncontrollably, her shoulders bouncing with each note of disbelief. She playfully rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head.

As if summoned by the very topic, Rossi and Reid appeared in the doorway. They caught the end of the conversation and, with impeccable timing, chimed in together, "It's true."

"If I forgot my paperwork, I'm pretty sure I'd be relegated to coffee duty for a month--minimum," Spencer said as he gave a small, resigned shrug. 

"I'll have you know, I can get into trouble," she declared, puffing up in feigned offense. "I'm always getting under Hotch's skin."

Skepticism was written all over their faces, each look a playful jab at the very ideas. "Oh, we're sure you're a regular rebel," Morgan said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Yeah, right. They day you get a real scolding is the day I'll dye my hair pink," Prentiss declared, her laughter softening the edges of her sarcasm.

"And I'll wear a feather boa to work," Rossi added, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting he found the image as ludicrous as it sounded. 

"Statistically speaking, Evelyn, the probability of you inciting Hotch's ire is remarkably low," Spencer articulated, his brows furrowing in thought. "Considering the standard deviation of workplace interactions, it's more probably likely for an asteroid to graze our atmosphere."

Evelyn rolls her eyes, taking their words as a challenge. "We'll see about that."

Noon struck, and with it, a cast of golden rays pierced through the blinds of Hotch's office, painting the surfaces with a light hue of daylight. Evelyn, her arms cradling a stack of tardy documents, sauntered into the room. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, framed her face, and her eyes, sharp as flint, scanned the room.

"Special delivery!" The announcement echoed off the walls, as Evelyn, framed by the doorway, held the papers aloft like a trophy. "The prodigal paperwork returns." Her smile was a bright flash in the subdued light.

The click of the mouse ceased as Hotch's gaze lifted slowly from the computer, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Thank you, Evelyn," he uttered, each word measured. "I was beginning to think it had gone into witness protection."

The room was filled with the sound of Evelyn's giggle as she perched against the doorframe. Her smirk was a playful twist of her full, rose-tinted lips. "Oh, you know me. I like to keep things interesting. Life's too short for bureaucracy. "

Hotch's fingers moved methodically through the stack, each page turning with a crisp snap. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never strayed as he spoke. "Interesting isn't quite the Bureau's motto. We prefer efficiency."

"And yet, here I am, brightening your day with my inefficiency," she teased.

The folder landed softly on the desk as Hotch straightened, his gaze piercing as it met Evelyn's. "Evelyn, is there something else you needed?"

"Just checking on my favorite unit chief," she declared with a shrug, "making sure you're not bored under a mountain of dullness."

Hotch's eyes took on a sharper focus, an almost accusatory gaze. "I'm quite capable of digging myself out, thank you," he stated, the hint of a smile lurking beneath his serious expression. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do."

Evelyn's smirk was unwavering, a silent ally as she acknowledged his words with a graceful nod. "Of course, sir. Duty calls."

--

The bullpen thrummed with life, agents weaving through the maze of desks, papers shuffled, and phones rang, the air buzzing with the collective focus. Evelyn's presence was a silent counterpoint, a different mission in mind. Her fingers sifted across the documents in front of her. With a feigned slip of the hand, she accidentally exchanged the contents of two folders. As she handed Hotch the Thompson report, masquerading as the Henderson case, she could barely contain her amusement.

Evelyn glanced up at Hotch with feigned surprise, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Oh, did those get mixed up? That's totally on me," she said, her voice dripping with faux contrition as she sat perched on the edge of her chair.

Hotch's hand clasped around the correct folder, his gaze drifting across Evelyn's features, a wordless pause hanging in the air. It was a look that lingered just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

With a serene composure, Hotch handed back the folder, his words deliberate and clear. "Please double-check your work in the future." 

"Absolutely, won't happen again, sir," Evelyn responded.

Watching Hotch disappear behind his office door, Prentiss and JJ, couldn't help but shake their heads. "You are playing with fire."

With a playful toss of her hair, Evelyn responded, "It's what I do best." Her wink sailed across the room to the women as she swiveled back to her desk.

Later, she sent Hotch on a wild goose chase for a non-existent file. Hotch reappeared, the absence of the file evident in his empty hands and the slight crease of annoyance on his brow. His irritation was barely veiled by his professional composure and the sight stirred a warmth across her cheeks and spread through her. It was as if the air had thickened, her body responding with a clench of her thighs. 

Evelyn snapped her attention back to her task, letting out an exaggerated gasp, her eyes widening with feigned realization.

Evelyn's eyes lifted to meet Hotch's, a flutter of her lashes accentuating her apology. "Oh, my mistake. It's actually for next week's briefing. My apologies, sir."

A collective gaze tracked Hotch, the team's faces etched with a blend admiration and disbelief at the boldness. Hotch's head shook slightly as he closed the door behind him. 

With a subtle lean, Morgan caught Rossi's attention, a smirk playing on his lips. "You seeing this, Rossi?" he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of disbelief.

"Hard to miss," Rossi mused, "she's got guts, I'll give her that," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, "but she's doing a great job of proving our point."

"Hey," Evelyn's whisper was a soft accusation, a conspiratorial murmur that barely reached between the three of them. "Just you wait, I've got more up my sleeve."

With a gentle head shake that sent his curls swaying, Spencer loomed over her desk. "At this rate," he said, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye, "you're going to need your own section in the employee handbook."

--

The bullpen fell into an abrupt hush, the agents' heads turning as Hotch's commanding tone sliced through the idle banter. Without missing a beat, he looked eyes with Evelyn. "Gideon, my office. Now."

The team's eyes flickered from one to another, the collective oooh sounding more like a drawn-out sigh as Evelyn got to her feet. The air seemed to still as she offered a nod, her face the picture of innocence. With a gentle tilt of her head, she responded sweetly. "Of course, sir."

Hotch stood behind his desk, the stern set of his jaw softening despite his best efforts. His words came with struggle, weighted with disappointment rather than anger. "This isn't like you, Evelyn. Misplacing evidence is a serious offense."

With eyes wide and innocent, Evelyn held her poise, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

The room felt smaller as Hotch sighed, his authoritative demeanor dissolving into a softer, more approachable one. His voice lowered, tinged with an unexpected warmth. "What's going on with you today?"

"Hotch," Evelyn burst out, the playful strain in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. "I've been an absolute terror today--don't I deserve a better scolding that that? Everyone thinks you go easy on me."

Hotch's eyes sharpened, the hint of annoyance seeping through his demeanor. "So that's what this has been about? You've been testing my patience all day because of what--some office wager?"

Evelyn watched, a spark of mischief in her eyes as Hotch's composure began to fray. The fabric of his suit jacket tensed, subtly outlining the firm set of his shoulders. His jaw worked silently, a clear sign of his growing irritation, a detail she found inexplicably enthralling. 

"See, right there!" she exclaimed, her finger jabbing the air with theatrical emphasis. "That's what I'm talking about--that's the look!"

A barely perceptible quirk of his lips betrayed him. "You're unbelievable."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with sheer desperation shimmering within. "Hotch, can you please--pretty please--pretend to yell at me? I need to win this bet."

"At this point, Evelyn, I don't think I need to pretend."

She offered him a pout, her lower lip protruding just so, a silent plea.

He exhaled a deep sigh, a reluctant white flag. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Thank you, thank you!" Evelyn sang out, her mind already racing ahead. "Oh, wait, I need to look scared, right?" She whirled around, her hand hovering over the door handle as she caught the team's collective gaze, wide and expectant, peering through the blinds.

Hotch positioned himself with his back to the window, his silhouette casting a commanding shadow across the room. With a flourish, he gestured towards the scattered paperwork on his desk, his voice booming just enough to be heard through the glass.

Evelyn's lip caught between her teeth, an effort to rein in the giggles that bubbled over. Her shoulders trembled, betraying her struggle as she dipped her head, a strategic move to conceal from the curious glances beyond the glass.

"Evelyn, you're terrible at this."

"I-I know, I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits of laughter. "But I think they bought it."

"I doubt it."

"You're the best boss ever, Hotch," Evelyn beamed.

Hotch's head gave a slow shake, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Too much if I cry on the way out?" she teased, feigning distress as she inched towards the door.

"Just go, Agent."

--

The day was winding down with the low hum of the office, Evelyn glided through the bullpen, her smirk as loud as the click of her heels. She tossed a bag onto Prentiss's desk, the contents clicking softly. The bag, clear and plastic, revealed the pink hair dye inside.

Evelyn leaned closer, the bag crinkling between them. "For your new look, Em," she teased with a wink. "I want to see a brand-new you by tomorrow."

Prentiss examined the dye, eyebrow raised in playful defiance. "Dream on, Evie," she chuckled. "This going in your Secret Santa gift."

Next the feather boa found its new home around Rossi's neck, courtesy of Evelyn's hands. "This is non-negotiable, Rossi," she declared. "Your suit needs a touch of pizzazz."

"But let's be real, Evie," Morgan chuckled. "You didn't really win the bet, did you?"

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Whaaaatt?" she uttered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're implying."

"Oh, come on," Emily scoffed, "we all know what Hotch looks like when he's chewing someone out. And that, my friend, was a performance worthy of an Oscar."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her act faltering under the team's knowing looks. "Oh! You know, I-I totally forgot, I have that thing I was totally supposed to do."

--

Evelyn was in her own world, surrounded by the familiar end-of-day bustle. As she slid her laptop into its case, her phone chimed--her eyes lit up, a smile curving subtly as she read the message from Spencer: My place. 8 pm.

Evelyn's gaze lifted, catching Spencer's eye across the room, a knowing look shared between them. She typed her response with haste: I'll be there. No sooner had she done so than Hotch's voice sliced through the buzz of the office. "Evelyn, my office."

She breezed in, her retort poised on her lips. "You didn't call me in here to actually yell at me, did you? Because, despite popular belief, I'm about as good with confrontation as a cat is with a bathtub. I'd probably start crying, it'd be this whole thing, and--"

"Evelyn." Hotch's voice was firm, a verbal full stop that demanded attention.

"Right. What's up?"

"Miami. Next week. A conference on behavior analysis," he began. "I want you there, presenting your research on the correlation between language patterns and criminal behavior."

"A paid trip to the beach? Count me in!" Evelyn squealed.

Hotch's reply came as a dry gust. "This is a business trip, Evelyn. Not a vacation."

She nodded, her grin undiminished. "Sorry, what? My mind's already sunbathing in Miami," she teased, twirling on her heel.

"Oh, and Evelyn?"

"Mhm?"

"The team's right," he confessed. "Don't let it go to your head."

next

taglist: @nonamevenus@aceofspades190

#aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotch #hotch #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x original character x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x original character #aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #thomas gibson #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid x original character #spencer reid smut #Spotify

[calderacitylovers]

Zutara SlowBurn FanFiction: Personal Favs, part II

·        DESTINY IS A FUNNY THING by Megara Pike | Published: 2020-08-21 | 198K Words | 45 Chapters

ATLA Season 3 rewrite, fills in a lot of blanks between canon scenes. From the Southern Raiders to Sozin's Comet through coronation and aftermath. Growing friendships, bonding, being there for each other, a carnival & a cave, epic spirits' appearance on the Ember island, sparring, nightmares, assassination attempts, political ruses, and covert operations. Lovely, sweet. Exciting plot.

 ·        ATLA Book 4: Ashes by elayne_cypher | Published: 2018-10-27 | 306K words | 34 Chapters

This action-packed story picks up right after Ember Island Players and continues well after the war. Zuko is facing many challenges as a new Fire Lord. Romance, tough decisions, rebels, traitors, out-of-body experiences, secret headquarters, angst, teamwork, fire jets. The story has a bunch of OCs.

 ·        Refraction by caroes3725  | Published: 2020-09-09 | 215K Words | 37 Chapters

After breaking up with Aang, Katara needs to figure out her place and role in the patriarchal world. As determined Katara stubbornly bulldozes her way through Fire Nation political scene, her feelings for Zuko grow. Diplomatic visits, Gaang reunion, bonding with Kanna, insights into the life of Caldera city, stuffy politicians, cute correspondence, tropical storm, women supporting women, assassination attempts, personal boundaries. A sweet well-written coming-of-age story with a healthy measure of slow-burn and mutual pining. Katara and Zuko are both POVs, but the story mostly follows Katara. Bonus: Mai is NOT a clingy resentful idiot, but a smart person and a good friend. Some explicit language here and there, a bit of mild smut.

 ·        I Asked You First by halfhoursonearth | Published: 2020-10-03 | 142K words | 22/? Chapters

Ongoing, incomplete. Post Southern Raiders ATLAS3 rewrite. Mostly canon-compliant with blanks filled in between familiar scenes. Zuko and Katara develop a close friendship built on trust and sharing each other’s fears and hopes. Includes mentions of implied child abuse, Lu Ten’s diaries, exploring Avatar Roku’s legacy, sharing a balcony, heart-to-hearts, a hot spring under the stars, an actual date, and artbending. It’s incomplete, but what we have is bliss. Slowburn, mutual pining. Zutara-centric, but also explores the personalities of Team Avatar and their relationships.

 ·        Katara Alone by cablesscutie | Published: 2020-05-31 | 21K words

Katara is not an “unnecessary accessory to a more powerful man”. After the war, she is willing to forge her own path as she turns to people who need her the most on her journey of self-discovery. Features character exploration, correspondence, exploring outback villages of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, sweet reunions, and new firebending skills.

 ·        THE PHOENIX AND THE DRAGON - THE COMPLETE SERIES by JasmineTeaLatte | Published: 2021-06-11 | 100K words | 31 Chapters

This story picks up after The Ember Island Players. Zuko and Katara get to know each other during a late-night conversation by the campfire. In this story, you will find healthy boundaries, protective Sokka, a dash of Taang, sparring, funny banter & lots of flirting.

·        HESITATE by tiffaniesblews | Published: 2020-07-11 | 22K Words | 12 Chapters

This story picks up right after Zuko's coronation and spans two years afterwards. Zuko & Katara talk, share a few beautiful moments, write to each other, and reunite for the 2nd anniversary of the war ending. Very sweet, fluffy story about two sweethearts figuring out their feelings for each other.

·        LIKE WE'RE MADE OF STARLIGHT by Naladot | Published: 2021-11-28 | 5K Words

Katara leaves her post as the ambassador to the Fire Nation to take up a new one as the ambassador to the Northern Water Tribe. Her absence makes Zuko realize that he's got an unfortunate crush, which he is determined to keep secret. Unfortunately for him, subtly has never been one of his strengths—especially when he arrives in the Northern Water Tribe and she keeps taking him on what seem to be dates.

·        FIGURE IT OUT by clearascountryair | Published: 2021-12-20 | 35K words | 13 Chapters

After choosing not to kill Yon Rha, Katara rethinks her sense of self and others' perceptions of her. Or,    In which Katara learns that there’s a really big difference between being kissed when you don’t want to be and being kissed when you do. Aged-up 3B/Ember Island AU.

-  I FOUND YOU by that_turtleduck | Published: 2020-11-01 Completed: 2024-02-24 Words: 157,541 Chapters: 28/28

After divorcing Aang, Katara uproots her family and travels to Caldera. There she finds comfort, kindness and support from an old friend. Katara tries to find her footing as an independent political figure. Great story & relationship dynamic of Momtara & Dadko in their early 30s (Ember island, diplomatic meeting, dancing, turtleduck pond, letters). Delicious slow burn with rewarding spicy resolution in the end (explicit open door). Titters on the side of Anti-Aang.

Here’s a link to Part I of my personal favorites.

Here’s a link to Wholesome Zutara Short Stories.

#zukoxkatara #Katara x Zuko #zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fic

[sebastianswallows]

POLIA'S FANFIC MASTERLIST

Hello! 💞 I'm Polly. Thanks for visiting my blog. I started out writing mainly for Hogwarts Legacy, but my obsessions branched out to Tom Riddle and Feyd-Rautha. This blog is now a mix of the 1950s and sci-fi lol Hope you enjoy!

TAGS: fanfics • headcanons • moodboards • ai chat bots GENRES: fluff 🌼 • angst 🔪 • smut 🔥 LINKS: AO3 • Pinterest • cAI Masterlist UPDATED: 15 V 2024

SEBASTIAN SALLOW

IT'S NOT LIKE ANY OTHER LOVE — 🌼🔪🔥 | In order to cast an unforgivable curse, you have to mean it. So how does Sebastian make himself want to hurt the girl he’s been harbouring a huge crush on? AO3 • Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • completed

DANGEROUS AND DELIGHTFUL — 🌼🔪🔥 | Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind. AO3 • masterlist • completed

THE DARKER SIDE OF LIFE — 🔥 | Prompt: Body worship with Sebastian, in particular his thighs. AO3 • oneshot

NEAT LITTLE CONTRAPTIONS — 🌼 | Prompt: Sebastian and MC take a fluffy shower together. AO3 • oneshot

WHEN IT RAINS — 🌼🔥 | Prompt: Sebastian and MC caught in the rain. AO3 • oneshot

A DIFFERENT KIND OF KEY — 🔪🔥 | Prompt: Breeding kink with Sebastian. AO3 • oneshot • alternative ending

LOVE LESSONS — 🌼🔪🔥 | Prompt: Sebastian teaches reader how to accept love. AO3 • oneshot

BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES — 🌼🔪🔥 | Prompt: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child. AO3 • Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • completed

OMINIS GAUNT

HAND IN HAND — 🌼 | Ominis teaches the main character how to read braille by tenderly placing his hand atop theirs to guide them while reading aloud. AO3 • oneshot

BLIND LUCK — 🌼 | Prompt: MC loses her sight and has to rely on Ominis for guidance. AO3 • oneshot

A NEW FAMILY — 🔪🔥 | Prompt: Ominis gets tired of his family, embraces the dark arts, and murders them. Now, he can start a family of his own. AO3 • Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • completed

TOM RIDDLE

ARDOUR — 🌼🔪🔥 | Professor Tom helps his favourite student when she comes to him for help after being hit with a strong aphrodisiac. AO3 • Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • completed

THE ENGLISH CLIENT — 🌼🔪🔥| Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He has to retrieve an ancient book, but needs to convince the reader to give it to him. AO3 • masterlist • ongoing

FEYD-RAUTHA HARKONNEN

DREAMED OF YOU — 🌼🔪 | A Bene Gesserit sister is sent to kill Feyd. She hesitates as she watches him sleep, all the way until he wakes up and catches her. AO3 • oneshot

THE LITTLE DEATH — 🔪🔥| Feyd wants to have a Bene Gesserit of his own. AO3 • Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • ongoing

HEADCANONS

Ominis Gaunt Headcanons

Don't think about how Ominis will never be able to see the Mirror of Erised.

Do you ever think about how a female MC reminds Sebastian of Anne?

The link between the Inferi and Anne's curse

Soft Sebastian headcanons

Sad adult!Seb headcanons

Monster boys Ominis and Sebastian

How Sebastian and Ominis would react to Anne's death

Sad Feyd Headcanons

girldad!Feyd

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Every Time You Lie- Ch 1 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house. 

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

This story has manipulation, tragedy, and drama. 

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, non-con, smut, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work. 

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think about this one.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chaper 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || Ko-fi

Any woman would kill to take your place—good looks, fame, connection, money, perfect kids, and perfect husband, Lloyd Hansen. 

But outsiders only see the surface. They don't know what happened behind the door. 

Heartbreak, betrayal, distrust, lie.

If any woman could withstand all these four, you are willing to give her the position of Mrs.Hansen to someone else.

You became the head of multiple charities to help people. But you can't save herself. 

All the money you have doesn't give you happiness. It's the opposite. As long as you still breathe, seeing Crystal Pharmacy building standing tall and proud reminds you that it's your fault why it turned out like this. 

Crystal Pharmacy used to be known as Laurent Pharmacy that belonged to your father. 

Your gentle father is a scientist who is friendly, kind, and gentle towards his kids even though they keep making mistakes. You are proud to have a patience father like him. 

But because your sin of trusting the wrong person made you lose everything: your father, brother, sister, and company. 

Your sin is loving Lloyd Hansen. You never thought sales like him could manipulate you and everyone. 

It turns out it was all his plan from the beginning to get close to you so he could access your father's company. 

Now everyone seems to have forgotten the name of Laurent Pharmacy, and the legacy from your father is also gone. 

You are trapped in this sinful mistake, perhaps have trapped marriage and your karma.

You married the man who destroyed everything your father had built. Your brother despised you and made him move away from the city, and your sister doesn't want to see you. 

All that has left is only Lloyd and his mother, your mother-in-law, Krystal Hansen. 

Oh, she hates you; she always has this passive-aggressive talk towards you. 

Every day she reminds you, "You are lucky to marry my son when there are a lot of women that are better than you."

You hold your anger each time she looks down on you. You can't run away or even get a divorce because you can't do anything. Because Lloyd holds everything you got. 

So, the only thing you could do is become a dutiful wife, always do and listen to whatever he says, and become a good mother. 

You thought becoming a mother of two kids could make your mother-in-law start to warm up to you. But no. Having two grandchildren is still not enough for her. 

First, your first daughter, Emily Hansen. She's beautiful, smart, and courageous. You're grateful that she doesn't act like her father. She even defended you when Krystal tried to mock you, and Lloyd couldn't get mad towards his daughter. 

But Krystal doesn't like Emily because she's a girl and wants a male heir to continue the company. 

Then your second child, a son. His name is Lionel Hansen. Everyone was overjoyed when he was born. But at that time, you were stressed and always went to a therapist every week. 

Krystal accused you of having an affair with your male therapist. 

That's the first time you snapped at her; how dare she be accused of something untrue while his son tortured you every night. 

What made you heartbroken is that your husband doesn't talk back to his mother and lets her do the DNA test. 

Well, the DNA proves that you were right. Lionel is Lloyd's son. In a second, Krystal changed, and she wanted to take care of Lionel. 

You were devastated, screamed. She can't take Lionel away from her. It's enough to have one Lloyd in this world. 

You can't help crying about Lionel, but you almost forgot about Emily. She needs attention too. She was 13 years old when Lionel was born. 

No one is taking care of Emily. Seeing you being fragile, her father busy at work, and her grandmother only pouring her affection towards her brother, she felt neglected.

Then she met your sister, her only aunt, Mia. They became close, and then Emily discovered the truth about her father's company and how her father made your family crumble. 

It felt like a jab in your heart when Emily told you she would move out, and she was ashamed to have a father like Lloyd. After her 17th birthday, she left the house and left you alone. 

The only pillar that made you able to stand is gone. 

Krystal gave Lionel back to you because she's exhausted caring for him. 

He's already seven years old. But you don't feel connected to your son. Perhaps you're afraid because his attitude is similar to his father's. 

The only thing you can do is stand still, be pretty in a beautiful dress and jewellery, and be proud to be Mrs Hansen.

But… 

Everything changed at your 20th wedding anniversary. 

"Ah…hng…!!"

"Urgh…!"

A loud moan echoed through the room. A man and a woman were intertwined on the bed. The man's back moved back and forth. Lloyd's cock dug deep into you. 

"Ha…Ahh…"

Lloyd feels pleasure and fullness every morning, making love with you. 

He lifted your legs and draped them over his shoulder. He grabbed your thighs with both hands and moved his back vigorously, speeding his movement. 

"Ah…!"

When he heard you moan, he knew you already hit a climax. Lloyd leaned his body towards you and moved his waist to reach his climax. He spilled his seeds inside your body. 

"Ha…That was a good way to celebrate our day. Right, Y/N?" 

Lloyd took his cock from your body and lay down next to you. He put your head to rest on his chest. He stroked his hair and kissed your forehead. 

Those who do not know will see you and Lloyd as a normal couple. 

Even though you just had an orgasm, you immediately feel dead again. 

"Yes." You nodded her head. 

Lloyd hummed and stroked your back. "I have booked a boutique store for your dress."

"Thank you."

What Lloyd is talking about is your dress for their 20th wedding anniversary. If anyone asks about that party, you will say it's unnecessary. But Lloyd wants to hold the event and invite all the business partners, and Krystal wants to show off her new diamonds. 

Lloyd smacked your ass. "Let's get up and start our morning."

You hummed and followed him to the bathroom and took a shower together. It's the same activity. After you put on your outfit, you will go to his changing room and put on his tie. 

He will wear the suits that you have prepared the night before. When you came in, Lloyd was already wearing his suit and tie. 

But there's something different. That's not the tie she prepared beforehand. In fact, she has never seen it before.

You grab the jacket suit from the hanger and go to Lloyd's back. "New tie?"

"Hmm, I bought it when I went to Paris." He stretched his arms to the back to wear the suit jacket. Then he straightened his outfit. After that, he sprays perfume on his neck. 

'That's a new perfume too.' You've never seen that perfume before. 

Then your woman instinct sent something to your brain. But you shook it because it's too early to speculate. 

Three of you, including Lionel, have breakfast in the dining room. He's 12 years old and taller than you because he likes to play basketball and volleyball. 

"Lionel, put down your phone." You softly order your son so he can eat his food. 

"Hmm…" Lionel hummed, but he didn't stop playing the mobile game. 

Reading the newspaper, Lloyd put down the paper and said, "Listen to your mom."

Lionel rolled his eyes. "Alright. Geez." He turns off his phone and starts eating. 

Only the sound of food utensils in the dining room until Lionels start the conversation, "Mom, I want to buy new shoes."

"Didn't you just buy one like yesterday?"

"This one is different, it's a limited edition. And these shoes are only available at your friend's store. All my friends already own it and I don't want to get left behind. Pleaseeee, mom…"

"That means you have to be on the waiting list. It will be difficult, Lionel."

"Mom!! I want it!! If grandma is here she will get it for me." Lionel crossed his arms and huffed. 

Under the table, you fisted your hand. Lionel is your son, but you can't scold him because he will tell everything to Krystal, and you will get scolded. 

"Just give him what he wants. Talk to Amelia, you are her top client." Lloyd suddenly joins in. 

You couldn't say no when your husband has made his decision. "Okay."

You were at the private boutique watching the model walking on the catwalk with the choice of dress that you probably would choose for your party. 

You glanced at your secretary. "I will pick the blue dress and the white shoes from the second model."

"Yes ma'am."

After the short fashion show, every model went backstage. You also grab your bag and leave the room. But one model still stays, "Mrs. Hansen?"

She's the one wearing the blue dress you picked. When she got closer, in an instant, you knew she was gorgeous, and her beauty was captivating. The rosy cheeks on her skin, slender body, and mystery air around her. 

Compared to you, who is aging gracefully, I can't help being jealous towards this young model. 

"Yes?"

She smiled shyly and cleared her throat. "Hi, uhm, my name is Zoey. I always wanted to meet you. It's because of your charity I could go to college."

You smiled at her. "I'm honored to hear that. So you became a model?"

Zoey nodded her head. "No, I'm helping my friend since she couldn't come. I work as a secretary."

"Congrats."

"All thanks to you. Can I give you a hug? You're my inspiration."

"Uhm, sure." You weren't sure, but Zoey had already made her move and hugged you. After that, she became giddy and left you. 

When you don't see her, you tell the shop assistant, "I don't want the blue dress anymore, change it to black."

"Yes."

You quickly left the store and got into the car. Your heart is beating fast. Because when Zoey gets closer, you smell her. In a second, you knew, that's the same perfume Lloyd wears. 

One thing about Lloyd is he always wears something customized that is only available to him, like perfume. All his perfumes were custom-made only for him. And he said he got it from Paris. Paris is the city where perfumers gather. 

And Zoey said she's a secretary.

Fuck. Both of them fucked. 

Lloyd is cheating on you. You weren't that shocked because deep down, you knew this would have happened. Even though Lloyd is already 43 years old, he still has a muscular body, like 30 years old. He is rich and drives nicely. 

You sighed heavily and rubbed your head. The driver notices you from the rear mirror. "Mrs. Hansen, are you alright? Do I need to call a doctor?"

You raised your hands. "You don't have to. Headed to Amelia's store, please."

"Yes, Mrs.Hansen."

You sit on the gold chair near the window at the boutique on the second floor. 

"Y/N. Are you're alright?"

You look at Amelia, who is sitting in front of you. She brings you tea and cakes. But you didn't touch anything.

Amelia is the only friend you got. Lloyd didn't stop you from meeting her because she’s rich. Her boutique store only sells limited editions, and many famous people became her clients. 

Your finger touches the teacup. You looked at your reflection in the water and sighed. "Lloyd is cheating on me."

Amelia slammed the table "That bastard!!!"

"Shh, don't be so loud."

"Fuck that; there's only us on this floor." Amelia leaned closer. "How did you know?"

"I met his mistress 1 hour ago."

Amelia clicked her tongue and threw him back to her chair. She was silent for a moment and then said, "Divorce him."

You scoffed, "Like I haven't thought about it a million times."

"Then do it; what's holding you back?" Amelia knew you didn't have a happy life. You're miserable. Under the expensive makeup and the fancy dress, she could see your soul crying. 

'What's holding you back?' That's the right question. 

Even though you have nothing, you still have your pride. You don't want to divorce Lloyd until he apologizes and realizes what he has done. 

But now, you don't even know anymore. 

"I don't know Amel. My kids?"

"Tsk, tsk, that's bullshit. Your oldest have moved out and already became a resident while your son is ungrateful child. If I have a gentle mother like you I won't touch any kind of drugs."

When she mentioned Lionel, you remembered, "Amel, can I ask you a favor? It's for my son. I knew there was a waiting list. I will pay double the price."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Huh, really, Y/N. You're too kind. It's alright; I will call the designer to make another one."

You smiled at her; at least someone knew your effort. Amelia mother is a socialite whose an alcoholic and doesn't know parenting. 

Your friend became a drug addict, but she turned sober. Amelia sip the tea. "You remember Katherine from flower rearrange class?"

"Yeah, what about her?" You knew Katherine; she's a quiet and skinny woman. Her husband is an oil tycoon.

"She got divorced. Turned out her husband is abusive, and a cheater. Even though she doesn't get any money, she looks happy. I met her when I went to Florida." 

Amelia grabs her phone to open her social media. "See, doesn't she look vibrant and happier?" You look at Katherine's photos; she smiles a lot and seems to enjoy being alone.

Perhaps. Someday. You could be like her. 

On the way back home, your phone suddenly rang. When you saw the contact, a smile appear on your lips. It's from Emily. 

The only thing that could make you want to stay alive is because of her. You didn't want to be biased towards your children. But you've been through; Emily is the only child that understands you. 

She never stepped foot into the house after she entered university. Both of you only met outside. But it's getting difficult to meet since she got accepted working at the hospital. 

"My dear, how are you?"

"Mom…" Her voice sounds trembled. 

"Emily, what's wrong?"

"Mom, aunt is Mia is sick. Could you come to hospital? Please."

"What?!!" 

The moment your car stopped at the hospital, you ran from the car to the lobby. There you saw Emily already waiting for you. She's wearing her blue uniform. She looks exhausted. She lightened up when she saw you, "Mom."

You immediately hug her. "Emily, what's going on?"

Emily dragged your hand. "I will explain it later. Follow me."

She brings you into the ICU. Inside, you see your sister, Mia, lying on the patient's bed. The big sister you used to know was healthy, but now she looks skinny. 

You gasped, and your vision became blurry. "Mia, what happened?"

Mia, whose eyes were closed, slowly opened when she heard your voice. Her younger sister. "Y/N…?" She raised her hand to try to touch you. 

You immediately hold her hand and bring it closer to your cheek. "Sister, why you didn't tell me? Does brother Theo know?"

Mia didn't speak at all; she only nodded. 

Emily put her hand on your shoulder. "Aunty Mia got diagnosed with breast cancer. And… when she found out it's already on stage four."

"Oh no…"

Then you feel someone stroke your head, the movement is slow, but you know it's from your sister. You look straight at her and saw her smiling at you. 

"Y/N… I… miss… you…"  

At that moment, all the resentment and anger is gone. Both of you went back to the siblings you used to know. 

"I miss you too Mia."

You cried silently, looking at your sister condition; if both of you never fight, you could stay with her. If you had never met Lloyd, none of this could've happened.

"Here you are wifey. Damn Mia, you lost a lot of weight."

Your breath hitched when you heard that voice. It's not even an hour yet, and he already found you. 

One of the reasons you can't get a divorce from Lloyd is his possessiveness. And you can't hide from his sight. 

"Fuck… you… Lloyd." Mia cursed at him even though it was difficult for her. 

Lloyd didn't say anything. He only looked down at her. Then he wrapped his arm around you. "Let's go home. There are a lot of germs here. I don't want you to get sick." Your body couldn't fight from his grasp. 

Emily blocked both of you with her body. "Don't get mad at mom. I told her to come here."

Lloyd nodded his head. He patted her shoulder. "Come home once for a while. And don't forget to attend the party. I invited many actor and singers."

******

On the way back home, both of you were silent. You no longer care if he's mad since you didn't tell him where you're going. 

"I will stay with my sister."

Lloyd was looking at his phone; he scoffed, "Yeah, no."

This man is already over 40 years old but still childish. Didn't he see that your sister is dying? 

"This time I won't listen to you."

Lloyd sighed; he put down his phone and stared straight at you. His hand touches your cheeks and brings your face closer to him. "Wife, if you make me angry, you will attend her funeral tomorrow."

"Lloyd, ehmm…" Before you talk back, he kissed you roughly and bit your lips. 

"Aww." You pushed him away. "You're heartless. She's my sister!!!"

"Yeah, and she's doesn't even worth of your time. I need you to supervisor for the party. It's important more worth it then your sister."

You gasped, "How dare you."

Lloyd rested his hand on your thighs. "My wife, didn't you forget your promise to never meet your siblings?"

You hold your anger, it's impossible to talk through him. As you're getting older, you're supposed to get wiser. But Lloyd?

He is still a man-child. 

"Don't be mad. I will send the best doctor and medicine for her. How about that?"

"Thank you."

"Ah, I'm going to sleep at the office. I have to make sure the product is ready." 

Is this how he will start lying to see his mistress? Sure, as long as he doesn't bother her. "Okay. Thank you for telling me."

On the day of the party, Lloyd kept his promise. He really came home early in the morning. You didn't ask, and he didn't tell you about his day, so it's a win-win. 

Three of you wear a formal dress. Lloyd and Lionel wear the same design of the black suit, and you wear the black dress you bought. 

On the car, Lionel, who sit on the back, still playing games, ask, "Is Emily going to be there?"

"She will be late, since she's watching your aunt."

"Huh? Whose aunt?"

"Don't you remember? I told you before about aunt Mia. My older sister?"

"Let's forget about her." Lloyd suddenly joined the conversation. 

When the three of you arrived at the party, the red carpet and paparazzi were already waiting for your appearance.

"That dress made you look slim Y/N." 

That arrogant voice. You rolled your eyes before turning to see your mother-in-law Krystal Hansen. 

You turned around and were glad you didn't hold any champagne glass. Because if you did, you would drop the glass. 

The reason is that the woman standing beside Krystal is Zoey. She is wearing the blue dress you picked before. 

"Aw,Mrs. Hansen. You look beautiful."

"Hmm thank you. Hello mother." You greet both of them, when you trying to keep your composure.

Krystal hummed. "This girl is my secretary. Her name is Zoey. She's one of the successful people from our charity."

"Yes, madam Krystal. And I'm always grateful for that."

Krystal felt more proud. She always likes it when someone compliments her. Zoey is a nice girl who knows her place. How she wishes her daughter-in-law would be her instead of you. 

"Excuse me, I need to greet another guest."

Krystal clicked her tongue, seeing you walking away from her "Tsk, you see Zoey? She's really rude towards me."

"But it's true ma'am. There's many of guest here."

"You're right. I should meet my friend."

*********

You lied; you didn't meet anyone. You went to the balcony to get some fresh air. You were suffocated. Now everything has become clear. 

Zoey isn't Lloyd's new secretary. Both of them met through Krystal. You never go with Lloyd every time he visits his mother. It's only him and Lionel. 

Is this Krystal way to make you separated from Lloyd?

"Mrs. Hansen, you need to hear this." Kelly, your secretary, appeared out of nowhere and holding your phone.

You saw the caller's name. It's from Emily. You answered the phone and heard Emily sobbing, "Mom, she's gone."

When you heard that, you dropped your phone and lost your balance. 

"Ma'am?" Kelly, hold your body before you fall. 

"I need to leave."

"Mrs. Hansen you can't leave yet because your husband still hasn't given the permission."

"Kelly, I just lost my sister."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Kelly and the others knew how scary Lloyd was. They knew how possessive he was with you. 

The only way is to talk to Lloyd so he would let you go. You look around, seeing everyone look like they have no problem.

Your mother-in-law is busy talking; your son is with his friends, your husband?

Where the heck is Lloyd?

You left the ballroom to look for him. He must still be on the same floor. Then you saw a man and woman hugging. You hide behind the wall. 

You knew that broad shoulder even though it was dark. That body belongs to her husband, and the woman who wore the blue dress are Lloyd and Zoey. 

Suddenly you felt a pain in your chest. It's been happening a couple of times lately. Being near them gave you more pain.

Yeah, you should walk away. Give them some space. Besides, you need to be alone. 

Lloyd was looking for you. He asked his bodyguard where you were and found you sitting on the floor in the quiet hallway. He saw you drinking wine all by yourself. It seems like you have finished one bottle. 

"Y/N?" 

Your head feels heavy; your makeup is ruined because of the tears. "Oh, here he comes, the maestro of my misery."

"You're drunk." Lloyd took off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulder. He helped the man to make you stand up. "What happened?"

"Mia is gone."

So that's why you cry, "Well, anyone will die. But she's quicker."

"Hehehehe."

First, you cried, and you giggled? "What's so funny?"

"My younger self was a fool to fall in love you. My biggest mistake is to trust you."

Lloyd felt his heart being stabbed. You never said these mean words towards him. "Alright, you're completely drunk. You don't know what you're talking about."

You pushed yourself away from him. "No. Let go of me."

"Y/N."

You were dizzy because of the alcohol;  perhaps because you're drunk, you dare to say, "You slept with her."

"Who?"

"Zoey."

"I didn't."

He knew you were depressed because you lost your sister, but what's with this accused? And how did you know that she was?

Without giving Lloyd a chance to speak, Y/N continued, "Don't lie; I could smell your perfume from her."

He didn't say anything.

Your fingers stabbed his chest. "I could have spent the days with my sister instead dealing with this party. While you fucked your mistress."

Lloyd grabs your hand "Y/N. There's nothing between me and her."

You clenched your trembling hand tightly. There was a tension that could not be hidden in your speech "I shouldn't have married you."

"..."

You murmured "My father told me to let go of everything. He never blamed me. But I'm so stupid to believe you. And now I lost the chance to say goodbye to my sister."

Lloyd never sees you like this. "We should talk about this at home." He tried to grab you but he failed.

You squeezed your arms "As I grew older, I learned the hard way to let go. But you…"

You pointed at him. "You are not capable of love. You're selfish."

“If I stop seeing that woman and mother starting from today, can we make up?” Lloyd asked.

"It's not enough." You shook your head and then said the words Lloyd never expected.

"I want a divorce."

He frowned and searched for his cigarettes in his pants pocket. He pulled out a cigarette and held it between his fingers before saying curtly, “So, you want to give her and me your blessing?”

That's even better. He should've married her. You nodded "If I could turn back time or there's another life, I wish I never met you."

Lloyd raised his voice. "I married you because I loved you!"

Your raised your voice and said "Do you know I prayed to God every day to take my life away? I want to be free from you. That's how much you've hurted me."

He launched towards you and clenched your wrist, "Even if you hate me or die before me. We will never, ever get divorced."

Your hands hurt because of how tightly Lloyd held them, but it was nothing compared to the pain you were feeling right now.

“What’s the meaning of dragging on?” You didn’t struggle from his grasp. "Please just once. Stop lying. The first time you lied to me. I lost everything."

“Look, the biggest problem with us is that I love you but I don’t know how much you love me!” Lloyd held your hand up to kiss it. “We communicate too little. You have an unbending and headstrong character, while I’m a conceited and proud man!”

He lowered his gaze, and after calming down his emotions, he held you by the back of your head and leaned his forehead against you. 

“It’s the stupidest thing I did in this lifetime, the darnedest mistake I’ve made! I hope… Y/N, you can give me a chance, a chance to redeem myself, okay?”

Lloyd hated himself a lot, especially at the thought of him cheating on you.

You knew the end of his voice was trembling, but you pretended not to know and shook your head. You pretend not to hear anything and said “It’s better that we sign the divorce agreement and lead our own lives.”

You gave a cruel smile when you saw regret in his eyes. 

You are still staring at each other; none of you speak.

"Mom, Dad?"

You widen your eyes when you hear that voice; even Lloyd lets go of your hand. 

"Lionel." You tried your best to act calm. 

"Mom, I've been looking all over the place for you." He whispered at you because Lionel realized the atmosphere is not right between you and Lloyd.

"What is it?"

"I got the email that my shoes are here. Can we get to Amelia's boutique?"

"Like, right now?"

"Yes pleaseee…. All my friends at school will wear it tomorrow." 

"Son, it's already 9 p.m." Amelia's store closed at 7 p.m. 

"Moommm…." Lionel knew it was already late, but he knew you would eventually do what he asked. You always do. 

You can't stand his nagging, just like his father. He won't stop until he gets what he wants.

You called Amelia's number, asking if her store was still open. She cursed at you, saying, of course, the boutique was already closed at this hour, but she told the security to give the shoebox to you if you arrived. 

"Alright let's go." You took off Lloyd suit jacket and handed it back to him. 

"Is it okay to leave dad alone?"

"He has a lot of friends. He's fine." You dragged Lionel's body to leave the place, leaving Lloyd alone. 

The rain is pouring hard, thunder. Luckily the road was empty. You and Lionel are inside the car. 

"Emily didn't come." Lionel said while he was still looking at his phone.

"She's at the hospital because your aunt Mia died." Your mind hasn't stopped thinking about your sister. Emily hasn't called you yet. 

"Oh right, I heard she's sick."

"You knew?"

"Dad, and grandma talk about her."

'What? So that means Lloyd, Krystal, and Lionel knew about Mia, and they didn't say anything to you. 

Lionel always plays at Krystal's house, which means, "Do you know Zoey?"

"Grandma secretary? Yeah, we talked sometimes when I was there."

"Uurgh." You feel sick, imagining they act like a family without you. 

There is no greater blessing than a family hand that lifts you from a fall, but there is no lower curse than a family hand that strikes you when you’re down.

Your husband and son didn't show any condolence about your sister. It's not like you lost a ring. You lost someone that you grew up with and shared the same blood.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm not."

You must get out; if you are still stuck in the car, you will lose your mind. "Bring me the umbrella."

Jimmy, the driver, wonders why you want the umbrella, "Mrs. Hansen. I will get the package."

Gosh, you hated that name. 

"It's okay, besides the security knew my face."

"Be careful." Jimmy is worried because the rain is getting heavy.

But this extreme weather can't stop you. With that long dress and umbrella in your hand, you walk under pouring rain. 

Everyone was walking quickly to stay away from the rain. But you were slower than them, with everything in your mind. You just want to keep walking. But the trip is short. 

You have arrived at the store. The light was still on, and someone was waiting near the door. "Hello, Miss L/N." Only Amelia's boutique called you with your last name. 

"Boss has told me. Here's the package." You thanked him, then you heard the loudest thunder.

"Where’s your car ma'am?" 

"It's near. Thank you Jack." You said goodbye and left him.

While you're walking, tears keep falling from your eyes. You could see your tears drop on the floor if it wasn't raining. Leaving the traces of you crying. You crouched down and buried your head between your knees. 

You cry your hearts out before you get into the car. 

The rain was pouring too hard. Even the car headlights couldn't make the stress clear. 

Every car drives slowly, but there will always be one car that wants to go against the rule. 

"Honkkkkkkk!" Someone drives way over the speed limit.

The moment you stand up and walk across the streets, the drunk driver can't control the steering wheel, and the car goes out of control. 

The last thing you see is a blinding light, then something heavy hits you, making you fall and hit the ground. 

"KYAAH!!! SOMEONE GOT HIT BY A CAR!"

You hear someone screaming. Is it towards you?

Perhaps. Because you couldn't move your head.

You heard that you will have a flashback of your life before you die.  They were right.

You don't want to remember any memory of Lloyd. Instead, you want to remember the moment with you celebrating your father's birthday and your sister and brother. 

If you could rewind time, you want to return to that day.

'Biip' 'Biip'

"Uurgh"

'Mia, turn off your damn alarm.' You want to shout, but none of the words come from your mouth. Why does your body feel heavy? You try to move your body, but you can't.

"Call the doctor, I saw her finger move." Then a voice suddenly appeared. Why did she hear the word of the doctor?

"Mom?" You hear a female voice. But why does she keep calling Mom near your ears?

"Mom, I'm sorry." Then you hear a boy crying and sobbing. 

'What the heck is going on? Did your brother prank you? Why did someone keep calling you a mom?"

And why is it so difficult to open your eyes? 

You slowly tried to open your eyelids. When you did it. The light was too bright. You were sure you turned off the light before you went to bed. 

"Omg, she opened her eyes!!!"

"I will call Dad."

'Father?' Oh right, today is your father's birthday. 

You try to turn your head, but it hurts. 

"Mother, don't move too much. Are you thirsty? Do you want to drink?"

Yes, even though you don't understand why she called you mother, your eyes blinked to say yes. 

She puts a straw in the glass of water and brings it closer to your lips.

"Slowly Mom, or you will get choked." She gently rubbed your back.

After you tasted the water, you felt refreshed. It felt like you never drank water. Your throat doesn't feel hurt anymore. 

You look around, then realize you're in the hospital.

"I will raise the bed." This girl is kind; when you look at her closely, her face looks like someone's. 

Then the boy who cried before came back dragging a man. 

"Look, Dad, moms awake."

You looked at the man wearing a black turtle neck shirt and beige colour. His face looks like that crying boy.

You've never seen him before, but he kept looking at you. 

He walked closely and touched your face. His fingers gently caressed your face.

"I'm so glad you woke up."

'Did I sleep so long that it made everyone cry?'

This man's face got closer to your face, but you moved away. You met him for the first time, and you felt scared of him.

"Y/N?"

And he knows your name. 

But you don't know who he is and the other two youngsters. You can't help but ask, "Who… are… you?"

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think about this one.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chaper 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

If you enjoy the story, please send me a coffee Ko-fi . Thank you 💖💖💖

#dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #husband!lloyd hansen #the grey man au #the grey man #chris evans characters

[yoonivy]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 4.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst!!! 01| 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

---

King’s Landing is in utter disarray. 

The past week in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms has been a shitstorm – for a lack of a better word.

Starting with the secret death of King Viserys I Targaryen. Then the gathering and holding captive of the supporters of the decreed heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, in order for the Greens to usurp her birthright to give the crown to Prince Aegon. Then, there was the destruction of the Dragonpit during Prince Aegon’s – no, now King Aegon’s – coronation from when Princess Rhaenys made her escape on her dragon Meleys by breaking through the ground from the dungeons, resulting in the deaths of many smallfolks. And, finally, Princess Rhaenyra has found out of her father’s death and her younger half-brother’s ascent to the throne, and from a parley with the King’s hand, Otto Hightower, she had declared she is the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Greens are the ones who are traitors to the crown. 

Now, like a Cyvasse board with most of the pieces of the game set in place, each side is quiet again, both thoroughly planning their next move.

In Maegor’s Holdfast, Prince Aemond Targaryen sits on a leather accented chair, staring at one of the walls in his bedchamber – all four bare and empty, letting him be with just himself in complete withdrawal. Perhaps to decompress all that has happened. Perhaps to think about nothing at all. Perhaps to… Aemond does not even know.

All he really knows is that he just needed time to himself.

In the first half of this whirlwind of a week, he played a foolish cat and mouse game with his older brother – at the behest of his mother – to bring him back first to the Keep before his grandfather’s men, to force him of his fated coronation. Now Aemond has to watch Aegon gloat as he wears the crown that he did not even want — a crown that Aemond wants for himself — and it sickens the younger Targaryen prince.

Beyond that, he has not even properly mourned the death of his father yet. Or even, at all .

Aemond is not sure if he could even anymore. They’ve tarnished his legacy, spat in the face of his decree of having Princess Rhaenyra as his heir. His mother, Queen Alicent, said that his dying wish, whispered only to her ear, was that the King wanted Aegon to be the one on the Iron Throne after him instead of his first-born daughter. Aemond is not sure that even he believes that. But his heart has grown cold and bitter through the years – wanting power more than anything else now – and with Rhaenyra stripped from her title, he has risen up a step to be next in line after his baby nephew, Jaehaerys, one half of Aegon’s and Helaena’s twins.

So Aemond cannot mourn his father. Has to push back the memory of his death into the back confines of his mind – where he had stuffed and locked away other painful memories; like an island full of evergreens, a touch of a hand he had known better than his own, and a promise of forever whispered against soft lips he thought he’d be kissing his whole life. 

It causes him to sit there in his bedchamber, basking in the selfishness and treachery of his family in the wake of his father’s death. 

Live in it. 

Let it become him. 

It is the only way he can deal with all of it.

The Prince’s solitude is broken by Ser Criston, the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, entering his bedchamber.

“You’ve been called to the council chamber, my Prince.”

Aemond nods then stands, knowing that whatever they are summoning him for, he shall do. 

For the victory of his family. 

For the unspoken promise of the crown to one day be put upon his head.

---

Aemond is one of the last to arrive at the council chamber. His mother, the Dowager Queen, and his grandfather, the Hand of the King, were already on either side of King Aegon once the doors shut for the small council to start their meeting. 

There is a map of Westeros laid on the table that they are all gathered around. As they discuss, there are pieces getting placed on different areas on the map to represent which Houses are for Aegon or for Rhaenyra – and of the latter, which Houses they can possibly turn to rescind their loyalty to Rhaenyra and bend the knee to Aegon instead.

Aemond cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he sees Ser Tyland Lannister place a black pawn piece on a tiny island just North-West of Winterfell – Bear Island.

“The Mormonts?! For Rhaenyra ?” King Aegon scoffs out a laugh. “Surely they’ll be willing to bend the knee to me–” Aegon catches his younger brother’s gaze, a hopeful and gleeful smile spreading on his lips, “Right, brother?”

But Aemond simply breaks eye contact from him, looking back down at the piece on the island, devoid of any emotion. The answer of silence from Aemond has the King’s smile falling slowly. 

From beside Aegon, Queen Alicent looks at her second son in an expression quite hard to read. 

Is it pity… or guilt? 

Only the Queen knows.

And maybe the one who speaks up next.

“It would be a waste of time, Your Grace,” Otto Hightower says gruffly. He does not seem to be in turmoil like the Queen is though, only obviously very frustrated at how politically unsavvy the new King is. “The Mormonts will follow where the Starks go, like most Houses of the North. So if we were to do any negotiating up there, we should focus on the Starks instead.”

“The Wolf of the North is as stubborn and loyal as the other Heads of House Stark that came before him,” Orwyle, the Grand Maester, says. “Cregan Stark might have written back to us back that he does not care for the politics of the South, but if push comes to shove, I fear they will stay with the Blacks.” “Not only that,” Ser Criston begins, “His younger brother, Willam, is also a part of Rhaenyra’s Queen’s Guard.”

“So we just give up the North?!” Alicent questions, exasperated. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“For now ,” Otto says in a tone that also tells his daughter to get her wits about her, keep her emotions in check. “So we should pivot our attention on a House we can sway to our side–” He leans forward, tapping on the black pawn piece on Storm’s End, eyes flicking to Aemond when he does so, “I propose for Prince Aemond to go to Storm’s End, break bread with Lord Borros Baratheon and bring their powerful House over to our side. Offer yourself to betrothed one of his daughters if need be. I say you ride there now, show them the promised consequence of their refusal by landing in on Vhagar.”

Alicent sucks in a breath, looking from her father then to her son. She cannot believe her father would just suggest this when they’ve not discussed this beforehand. “Aemond…” His eye finds her when she calls for him. The blank look on his face has her frowning. “Are you willing to do this… for us?”

Then he smiles, but it does not quite reach his eye. It is just there to placate her and everyone around.

“Of course, mother,” Aemond says, dipping his head in a bow. “I’ll do whatever I have to.” He then nods to his grandfather. “For the name of our House and the throne.” And then to his brother. “For the King.”

The Queen looks to her father, finds him already looking at her.

Aren’t you glad? The grin on the Hand’s face says. That we intervened all those years ago? And now Aemond is still free to betrothed a woman that will help with our cause?

No! Alicent wants to scream, but instead she just turns away, watching the back of her second son as he leaves the council room to do what was asked of him. A foreboding feeling twists in her stomach.

---

It all went wrong.

It has all gone horribly wrong .

Aemond takes fast and hasty steps through the halls of the Keep, his hurried breathing near hyperventilating. The rain that showered him on his flight home on Vhagar has already dried, but he still feels the heaviness of it over his body.

He disturbs his family and some of the members of the King’s small council when he bursts through the door of the hall as they feast their dinner. His mother stands up in worry at the sight of the anguish on his face, asking him what was wrong. What happened?

Aemond’s mouth opens, and he blurts it all out.

That Lucerys Velaryon, his nephew, came to Storm’s End while he was in the middle of negotiating with Borros Baratheon. 

That he simply just wanted to scare the boy, threatening to take out his eye for the one the young man had taken from him. 

That it was Arrex’s – Lucerys’ dragon – fault for angering Vhagar.

That he tried to stop Vhagar but she did not listen to him. 

That he ended up taking more than just Lucerys’ eye.

The Dowager Queen crumples to the floor, a hand pressed to her mouth to suppress the agonizing cries that want to spill out, tears streaming down her eyes to mourn for a son that is not her own. 

Aemond watches his mother, murmuring for her dear friend, the one she grew up with and the one she was losing in this game of thrones – only held together loosely with a string of love that they woven so strongly when they were just little girls. But after tonight, it will be completely severed.

“We have to tell her,” Alicent sobs. “We need to tell Rhaenyra. This one… This one we can’t keep from her. She deserves to know .”

But the small council present ignores her to argue amongst themselves, shouting over the other of which way is the best way to approach this unfortunate event. Aemond then feels eyes on him, and when he turns, he sees that it is Helaena looking at him — horrified — clutching her nearly four years old twin babes closely to her side, the kids terrified at all the shouting. To make matters worse, even Aegon seems disturbed at what he had done. Aegon – the man who is known to lay his rough hands on women who do not want his touch and betted coins on feral children to fight for their lives in the rat pits of Flea Bottom.

Then his mother glances up from where she is still a heap on the floor, and even she cannot stop the flicker of disdain when she meets her second son’s gaze.

Kinslayer , their voices scream at him in his head. 

There is a constricting pressure in his chest, threatening to arrest his heart if he did not get away. 

Perhaps he should just stay put and let the Stranger take him. 

An eye for an eye. A son for a son.

But Aemond turns around instead, storming out the door from whence he had just came from.

Though his mind is numb and blank, his feet keep moving, taking him somewhere.

Where Aemond finds himself is in front a set of dark double doors and he should have known this is where his overflow of grief and remorse would mindlessly take him. Looking upon it, he lets out a shuddering breath — before he is pushing the handle to let himself inside.

The pungent smell of death hits his nostril as soon as he steps inside. It almost made him turn right around, but he pushes through and swallows down the bile threatening to come out of him. Aemond was not even surprised about the horrid smell. The small council now puppeteering his fool of a brother did this : left his father secretly decaying in his deathbed for the past week, all so they can conspire behind the back of his half-sister Rhaenyra without her even knowing that her father was dead.

The Silent Sisters took his father’s body away last night, working on the process to finally let him rest properly. Maybe that is why Aemond could not even mourn him. How can you mourn someone that was made to be thought of as alive?

Aemond closes the door behind him, looking around his father’s room. He has not been here in so long – even way before his father’s death in this room. 

The prince did not want to admit it but… He hated the sight of his father in the last few years of his life. The disease that plagued the late King Viserys made him look like a husk of a man, rotting his flesh from the inside out. And when the sickness took Viserys’ eye, hollowed out the socket that he had to wear a gold mask to hide the sight of it from his people; Aemond did not feel any solace of a bond between them. If anything, there was this little voice in the back of Aemond’s head that said that is not what a king ought to look like. 

Aemond regrets it, but there is nothing he can do about it now.

The miniature model of Old Valyria that his father once poured all his free time over lay in the middle of the solar more lifeless than before, with the webbing of spiders on every surface and corners of the blocks of buildings. Aemond walks up to it and swipes his hand through the webs in an attempt to make the model look like what it once was, when his father was alive and well enough to take care of it.

 While doing so, Aemond accidentally knocks something over onto the floor. When he bends down to pick it up, he sees in his hand a wooden model of dragon.

He made this. 

With…

To hold back happy memories made bitter through the years, he thinks about it more broadly. He made this with the Mormont siblings and their old Maester Garland who loved to make miniature models like his father did. Aemond gave it to his father after he came from one of his travels, and his father smiled at him so lovingly and pulled up a stool for Aemond to sit and they spent the rest of the day in this solar, his father telling him stories of the place their ancestors came from.

The memory makes Aemond smile sadly.

Perhaps wherever his father and Maester Garland are now, they are free to build a miniature model of the whole of Westeros together, if the New and Old Gods are merciful and kind and allowed them to.

Maybe Lucerys is there with them too.

Aemond puts his shaking hand against his mouth and takes a shuddering breath, remembering once again what he had done. He paces the room, his body shivering and beading in sweat at the dreadful thought.

And that is when he sees it, from the corner of his eye, in the far wall of his father’s solar, peeking behind a bunch of things hoarded inside the room. He knows what it is, so he does not know why he starts to move the many piles of books and boxes holding various items to get to it. 

He is heavily breathing by the time he has made enough room for a path for him to get to it. 

The backing board of the golden frame leaning on the wall is what faces him when he reaches it. He takes a deep inhale as he fingers swipe across the dust collected on the frame, remembering just how it got there. 

It had to be at least two years ago when he furiously grabbed the golden frame off from where it hung on the wall in his bedchamber. It was the last thing in his life that reminded him of the bears on Bear Island, the rest already burnt into ashes under Vhagar’s fire. He strode through Maegor’s Holdfast carrying the heavy frame, determined with just his rage. Another courier had just returned and informed him that the youngest Lady of Bear Island turned him away, grimacing at the sight of the gift.

And that was it. That was the last straw. Aemond was done trying.

It was his mother that caught him in the act, the undeniable fury in her son’s features and the sight of the golden frame made her face fall.

“What are you doing?!” Alicent asked in a panic, placing herself in front of him and grabbing onto his arms to stop him in his tracks.  

“I’m taking this where it belongs. Under Vhagar’s fire.”

His mother shook her head, disapproving of his plans.

“I… I know she has not written to you, or accepted any of the couriers you sent to her, but…” Alicent pressed her lips together, looking away as tears swell in her eyes. “I don’t want you to regret it if you burn your memory of her.”

“Why would I regret it? I’m just treating her how she had treated me. She’s dead to m–”

“Aemond!” Alicent admonished, glaring at him. Aemond did not know why his mother was taking her side. It puzzled him. He watched his mother take a deep breath, and then she turned to him again. “Come, I know a place you can take it. A place where it will be out of your sight forever… Or at least until you can bear to look at it again.”

Then before he could disagree, his mother took one side of the heavy frame, helping him carry it. As they walked together, she refused the help of any of the guards. Her face was unreadable as to why, but the weight of the painting was heavy on her back.

When they stopped in front of his father’s door, Aemond questioned why — his mother knew he hated it in there.

“Exactly,” Alicent said with a sad smile. “You’ll never step foot in here unless you have to… So it is the perfect place.”

And as always. His mother was right. Now he stands there, looking at the backing board of the painting and is desperate to see the face that would stare back at him once he turns it around.

So he does.

At the sight of your gentle smiling face, Aemond falls to his knees, grabbing onto the sides of the golden frame. His heart clenching so much so.

As much as it hurts to look upon you, you still give him a sense of relief as well. It’s confusing. It’s terrifying – how you still have such a hold on him when he has tried so hard to make the taste of your name his mouth so bitter that he has to spit it out.

Seeing your face again has him thinking crazy thoughts. That maybe, just maybe, if he can see you again, maybe you’ll tell him the real reason why you’ve spurned him. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe then he can tell you of everything that has happened, the pain and guilt in his heart. Maybe then you’ll wrap your arms around, comfort his hurting heart in a way that he knows only you could do.

And that’s when he thinks, fuck it…  

He needs to see you again. He will see you again.

---

Vhagar knows that her bonded rider is not pleased with her. When they had returned to King’s Landing earlier that day, Prince Aemond did not pat her snout for a job well done like he usually does, he had just walked away in complete silence. She stared after him, the taste of dragon flesh mixed with human flesh still on her tongue.

So when Aemond climbed up onto her back that evening, no words or command were spoken to her – but she just knew where he wanted to go.

The storm follows them in their travel up North. Although the rain is heavy on their backs, Vhagar lands at her pit on Bear Island past midnight and in three days time – a record for the she-dragon.

Mormont guards meet Prince Aemond at the wooden gate of the wall surrounding the keep, and they escort him inside. Aemond tries not to tear up at the feeling of home as he follows behind them.

It is Braeden Mormont who greets Aemond at the entrance hall, a look of utter shock on his face at the sight of the prince – looking more and more like his father Lord Mormont than from the last time Aemond saw him. There is a woman by his side – Rebeca, his childhood friend and now wife – carrying a young, sleeping girl of what looks to be of age 5 – Marjorie, born during one of the years Aemond could not visit and the reason Braeden did not travel to King’s Landing for the wedding.

“Ae–” Braeden catches himself, “Prince Aemond, what are you doing here and at this hour?” 

Eyes wild and words hurried, Aemond does not even hear him and questions him instead, “Your sister. Where is she? I need to see her.”

He must have looked so manic that Braeden gently brings his wife and child behind his back as he steps forward towards the prince, a protective papa bear. “My prince… I… I’m sorry to tell you but… My sister… She does not live on Bear Island anymore.”

Aemond’s heart stutters. Dread on as to why that is already dawning on him, but like a fool, he still asks anyway, “Why… Why doesn’t she live here anymore?”

Braeden frowns at him, pity and confusion mixed together. “She lives in Harrenhal now, my prince... With her Lord-Husband, Jeremy Strong.”

Aemond can feel his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, his hand clenching over it...

Jeremy Strong, who has the same coloring as Aemond’s nephew, Lucerys Velaryon – brown hair, brown eyes; instead of the Targaryen and Velaryon silver hair and purple eyes. Jeremy Strong, the man that shares the same name and blood with his uncle, Ser Harwin Strong, who was the rumored lover of Rhaenyra Targaryen during her first marriage with Laenor Velaryon – the reason why Aemond and his brothers call their nephews the Strong boys, implying their bastardness and their illegitimacy to the throne…

Wherever Lucerys is now, he must be smiling at how karma tastes — sweet like justice.

---

You awaken with a sudden gasp, your chest heaving, and a maddening thrumming in between your thighs. 

The intangible dream of hurried mouth against mouth and a gaze filled with burning desire slipping through your fingertips with every second you become more aware of reality. 

When your sleepy eyes flutter to take in your surroundings, it is your husband’s honeyed brown eyes you find, already on you. 

Jeremy Strong’s immediate reaction is to turn away, embarrassed for being caught. His face is flushed pink when he mutters to the wall, “I apologize for staring, my l– La–” he stumbles his words, growing more red, then clears his throat, “My love.”

You do not know if you should smile with amusement or frown at how unsure he sounded. 

I should tell him that it is quite alright for him to look upon me, for I am his, afterall.

But you have a feeling you would sound just as unsure as he had been if you said that aloud, so you forgo the thought. Instead you just tell him softly, “It’s alright, Jeremy.” 

You sit up then, back against the headboard of the bed the two of you share, and watch as your Strong husband gets ready for his day. 

Jeremy already has on his breeches, a heavy bulge straining at the front. Your whole body light afire at the sight of it, knowing it is probably there because of what he had witnessed while you were still asleep. Though the dream is far away from you now, the evidence of it is still wet between your legs.

When Jeremy throws a white tunic over his head, your gaze is on his body, transfixed. From the sparsely grown dark curls on his broad and muscular chest and down his navel, to the freckles splattered across his toned shoulders from working hard under the sun, and then to the healed scar on his left bicep from a spar with his older brother (you had smiled when you first saw it and when he told you the story, reminding you of your own from Jorah). 

Just when he pulls the tunic down to cover himself completely, that is when he catches you and your ogling. Your eyes are quick to fall to where your hands lay on the furs around your body.

For two people who have spoken their vows to each under the eye of the Weirwood tree five long moons ago, you and your husband are embarrassingly still acting like blushing maidens around the other. 

When your heartbeat evens, you brave glancing up at him again to ask, “What are your plans for the day?”

While shrugging on a dark brown leather jacket to fight the autumn chill, Jeremy says, “I will be overseeing the hunt today. I want to make sure we have enough rabbits for when your brother arrives.”

A warmth of tenderness spreads in your chest, your husband’s thoughtfulness causing you to smile. 

In two days time, Jorah and Renee should be arriving in Harrenhal for a visit before they travel further south to settle in one of the villages in the Reach. It’s Jorah’s first time truly leaving Bear Island so Jeremy had wanted to make his favorite stew that your mother makes to ease his nervousness for the next big change in his life. 

Jeremy even extended an invitation for Dorothea and her husband to visit as well, and they would be arriving in a day from Riverrun. You had not seen any of your family since your wedding so you are elated to see your dear sister and brother again. 

Jeremy then turns towards you, and you softly awe at how truly beautiful he is with his kind, perpetually sleepy eyes and strong nose chiseled by the Gods themselves. 

“Will you be hosting the kids for painting today?” Jeremy asks as he walks over to your side of bed. 

“Yes, after noon,” you tell him just as he stops just beside where you are.

“Good, that’s, uh, good… Talia, she… she loves it,” he says, speaking for his niece. 

“I’m glad,” you tell him with a small smile. “She is as talented as my sister.”

“She has a good teacher,” he compliments bashfully, only meeting your eyes for just a few seconds. Then he turns to the window, brows narrowed at the bleak view. “I should head out. They are most likely already waiting for me.”

You hum and nod, watching him from under long lashes. And this time, when his gaze turns to meet yours again, neither of you look away.  

Then he is bending towards you, a slight hesitation in his movement but he pushes through, tucking his fingers around your chin to lift your face towards him. You find yearning in those mellow, golden browns; tender devotion that you do not think you have done anything to deserve. 

But through the years, you’ve become greedy for intimacy, and it has come to a point when you just want to take, and take, and take. So when you lick your lips and your husband’s gaze flickers down to follow the movement of your tongue, you flutter your eyes shut in hopes for something that will get your heart racing.

What you feel though is but a chaste kiss pressed onto your forehead for a long second. 

Then the closeness of him is gone.  

When you open your eyes in obvious disappointment, Jeremy is sheepishly rubbing his hand behind his neck.

“I’ll be back for supper; so I’ll see you then… I, um, hope you have a good day, my love.”

Then he leaves and you cannot help but to glare after him.

Your poor, sweet Lord Husband only wishes to be respectful towards you but all you can do is burn him with your gaze, your hands clutching on the bedsheet in frustration. 

Huffing, you plop back down on the pillows below you, desperately wishing you could have stayed in your dreamland a little bit longer.

---

It is Alys Rivers who enters your bedchamber next with a gentle knock, a little bit after your husband had departed. 

But when your lady-in-waiting glides into the room, she is anything but gentle, with her feline-like eyes lined with kohl and her beautiful tresses as dark as the nights at Bear Island during the late Winter months. Even from the first time you met her, you knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

Although all that doesn’t make Alys any less sweet.

“My lady, why haven’t you gotten up? It is unladylike to wallow in bed when the birds are already singing,” Alys chides, but there is jest in her tone.

“There are no birds in Harrenhal, Alys,” you tell her, getting up finally at her behest. You frown out the window, dark clouds in the skies – like always. “Only crows.”

“But they still sing,” Alys says with a smile as she stands behind you when you sit on the chair in front of the vanity.

The crows do not sing . They caw and they rattle and they click, loud in their mourning. Perhaps to always remind the ones who still live in the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms of the last tragedy that befell in one the towers just a little more than a decade ago – continuing on the curse that is said to permeate through the walls of Harrenhal. How the previous head of House Strong, Lord Lyonel, and his heir, Ser Harwin Strong, burned to a painful death in a blazing fire that trapped them inside their chambers.

It was an awful story to hear. You can still picture the tears in your husband’s eyes when he told it to you. He was just a boy of ten and one when it happened, but the guilt for not being able to do anything still haunts him. He looked up to uncle so much, the valiant knight that once protected Princess Rhaenyra as her sworn shield – or, Queen Rhaenyra now.

You wonder why your first love never talked about Ser Harwin Strong before, for he sounded so good and righteous and brave like a knight of the Realm should be. He had told you tales of the other knights — like Ser Criston Cole, the Cargyll twins, Ser Harrold Westerling, and even his uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen. But never of Ser Harwin.

“Your face will stay that way if you keep it up, my Lady,” Alys says with a light chuckle, breaking you from your thoughts. You huff a laugh back, softening your features.

Alys starts to brush your hair like your mother did, like Dorothea did, and for that, you are grateful for her. Alys’ presence brings you so much comfort in these cold stone walls. She is the only friend you have in Harrenhal besides your husband.

With your hair done in two loose double dutch fishtail braids, Alys moves to the wooden armoire. “What would you like to wear today, my Lady?”

“The violet dress, please,” is your instant answer, knowing it will cheer you up during this dull day.

It is the one Dorothea made for you to wear to her wedding (your sister excitedly sent you a letter moons before her wedding with a sample of the fabric she had found in one of the shops in Riverrun that she knew became your favorite color ever since you were ten and two), it is the one you spent wearing most your days while at King’s Landing, and it is the one you were wearing when your prince kissed you that one last time before you had to leave his side –

“Ah… Lord Jeremy’s favorite,” Alys says with a knowing smirk. 

Your face flushes because you cannot even deny it. Whenever you wore the violet dress, the timidness in your Lord Husband disappears, replaced with longing desire. 

Both Dorothea and Alys had told you before about how Jeremy had been smitten with you ever since the two of you met at Dorothea and Tobias’ wedding in Riverrun all those years ago. The latter of the two told you how the young Strong man came back to Harrenhal after the wedding and talked her ear off for hours about you – when all you had done at the wedding was accidentally made it known that you did not like the dish Jeremy made for the feast and stepped on his toes a few too many times when your mother forced you to dance with him. 

At least he is a far better cook now, and you are a better dancer as well.

“You’ve not bled yet this moon, right, my Lady?” Alys asks suddenly. 

You shake your head as you stand to move by her side. “I’ve not, but I think my cycle is just irregular.” 

Alys hums knowingly with a frown. As your only confidant in Harrenhal, Alys knows that although you and your husband share the same bed every night, it does not mean the two of you have consummated the marriage. 

“I overheard Ser Simon talking to Maester Fishl last night, my Lady,” Alys starts, already clearly frustrated at her own mention of the two elderly men, “He wants to know why you are not with child yet… He wants the maester to check up on you,” she then takes your hands in hers, fury in her tone and dark eyes, “I do not like the thought of these horrid men poking and prodding at your body, my Lady. Tell Lord Jeremy to waste his seed in a cup. Bring it to me and I’ll find a way for it to take in your womb without him having to touch you.”

You give her a watery smile, so touched at your lady-in-waiting’s care for you. Squeezing her hand, you tell her, “That won’t be necessary, my sweet Alys. The reason I have not lain with my husband is not because I find him to be grotesque... Actually… I find him quite the opposite… He is handsome and loving and not at all like the other men in his family. But I just needed time to…” Your head shakes, laughing to yourself, “Just… time.”

Alys sighs, nodding in acceptance. “If you say so, my Lady. But I hope you know, my offer will forever stand.”

“I know,” you murmur softly with a smile. “Thank you, Alys.”

Then you wrap your arms around her in a tender hug.

---

You spend the rest of your day helping the castle servants in any way you can. Although you are a Lady of a vassal House, you did not have the same luxuries as the Lords and Ladies of House Strong. You grew up doing your own chores, cleaning up after yourself, and helping with other duties around Mormont Keep. So you do the same in Harrenhal, finding comfort in the little things.

You help the kitchen staff prep for supper. You wash, sew, and repair clothes with the maids. You tend to the horses with the stable boys. Then finally, after sitting in while the septa teach the children, you turn the common room into an art class, with an easel for all the youngins present – it is your favorite part of your day.

As you float around the room to give each child your attention, there is an ache in your heart. You miss your nieces and nephews so wholly. From Jeor and his little sister, Marjorie, on Bear Island – looking more and more like Braeden every day – to Dorothea’s twins, Talis and Lyanna – a perfect copy of her and Forrest, just with Tully clear blue eyes. 

It also has you desperately longing for one or two – or five , like your mother had – of your own in the future. 

You used to dream of a babe with silver hair and amethyst eyes. But now you will not mind one bit for one with brown hair and honeyed eyes as warm as the summer sun.

The man with those same eyes meets you by the doors of the small hall later for supper, his gaze hungrily taking you in your violet dress with a hard swallow.

“How did the hunt go?” You ask, taking his arm extended towards you.

“Your brother will be sick of rabbit stew once he leaves Harrenhal,” Jeremy answers with a coy grin as he leads you inside the small hall. 

“That is quite an ambitious feat, my Lord Strong,” you tease as he pulls back a chair for you to sit on.

“And it is an ambitious feat I dare to take on. For my brother-in-law’s happiness is also my lovely wife’s happiness, my Lady Strong,” he says when he sits beside you, taking your hand to place a dainty kiss on your knuckles.

Because of that, there is a flutter in your stomach that stays there while the men of House Strong drone on about politics and other things that do not interest you during supper. You always try to pay a little bit of attention but your thoughts always drift you away. You only get snapped out of your reverie of seeing Dorothea and her twins and Jorah again soon when the castellan of House Strong and temporary Head of the House in the stead of Lord Larys Strong still at King’s Landing, Simon Strong, says your name. 

You turn to your husband’s grandfather, letting him know you have his attention now with a slight lean in his direction at the head of the table.

“There will no longer be time for the juvenile art classes you’ve been holding, today was the last. We need the boys to spend more time training and the girls learning more useful pastimes,” Ser Simon commands gruffly.

Unable to stop yourself, you glare back. “They’re children, Ser Simon.”

The oldest child in the group is a boy of only seven years.

Ser Simon huffs out roughly. “Do tell me, my Lady. But don’t they train even the women to fight on Bear Island?”

“Yes, but we have wildlings and Ironmen landing on our shores, trying to pillage our home. But that’s—” 

“And now we have two dragons fighting for a throne, dragging everyone in the Seven Kingdoms into their war – that includes women and children, if your mind can wrap around that, my Lady,” he interrupts you. Hidden from view, your fists clench on your lap at the way you are being talked down to like you are just a child.

Then you feel a soft touch, a warm hand over your fist, comforting in every way. When you glance at your husband, his fierce glare is on his grandfather. “I will see to it that the boys spend more time on the training field, grandfather. But they will also continue their painting lessons with my wife once a week. Just because a war is coming, it does not mean we should take the children’s joy away along with their precious youth.” 

“My Talia loves her painting lessons with her aunt,” Ser Sean, Jeremy’s older brother, pipes up. Then he turns to the girl of just 6 beside him. “Don’t you, honey?”

From across the table, Talia nods excitedly before she beams brightly at you. Your heart melts at the sight.

Ser Simon huffs again, but relents. “Fine. But if I find the children lacking in their training then it will be done for good.”

You and Jeremy both thank him, before you turn to your husband, a small and appreciative thank you on your lips. His hand closes tighter around yours as he smiles warmly back.

---

After supper, Jeremy walks you to the southern parts of the castle, to a room far from the bedchamber you share with him but one that you spend the most of your time in since arriving in Harrenhal. Jeremy drops you off with a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to enter by yourself, knowing you like your time alone sometimes. 

As soon as you walk in, you are hit with the precious scent of chamomile and pine — reminding you of both your mother and father. Instantly, you feel as though you are at home, which was the exact reason why Jeremy gifted you this room. 

In your first few weeks at Harrenhal, you were visibly very miserable although you tried your hardest not to be. But the walls are too cold and depressing, even colder than Bear Island, for the walls of your home had the warmth of wood and the sound of laughter drifting out of every room. So Jeremy found the room in the castle with the largest window – a fault in the build, but now your blessing in disguise – that the sun actually shines in when it appears sometime when the skies are cloudless. Then he built wooden shelves that now line all the walls, hiding the stone behind it to appear more like the rooms back home. Now they hold all your favorite things – like gifts from your family, the books you love to read, and material for your crafts.

It is one of the most thoughtful and loving gifts you have ever received, and you cherish your husband for it so much.

As you close the door behind, you see that Alys had already been in and lit up the lamps and kindled the fireplace for you to spend the rest of your evening in here before heading to bed. She had also watered and tended the plants that bring life to the small room, her knowledge and green thumb far better than yours. 

You cross the room to sit at your desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and the golden writing quill that your first love had given to you. And once again, like every night since you arrived back home on Bear Island after the Targaryen sibling’s wedding, you write to him — just like you had promised him you would.

The only time you had stopped was just this past week, for you had received some news from both your eldest brothers that was quite hard to digest. 

It was Braeden’s raven scroll that came first:

To my dearest Little Cub, I truly don’t know how to tell you this news, so I’ll just come out with it. Prince Aemond came tonight looking for you — looking like a wild man that I’ve never seen before. He did not give me the chance to ask or get an answer for anything else, for once he heard where you were, he stormed out and flew away on Vhagar.  I’m so terribly sorry I did not do more, and I hope my inaction does not cause your heart more pain and confusion. Yours always and forever, Braeden

And then Forrest’s came two days after, a letter filled with angry scratches of thoughts unable to come out properly:

He’s gone. Luke is gone. I promised to protect him but he’s just gone, Little Cub. What kind of knight am I if I cannot even protect the young boy who reminds me so much of our brother. I just keep picturing Jorah dying that terrible death… Sister… They say it was Prince Aemond and Vhagar that took the life of Lucerys and Arrex. How can he do this? What the hell happened to the boy we grew up with? I know you do not know the answer since he has made himself scarce in your life and ours but still… Luke did not deserve this. I saw him swear on his life in front of his mother and under the Eyes of the Seven that he will not partake in any fighting. And I know that little boy like he is my own little brother, and I know he did not break his word. Whatever happened, it is the fault of Aemond, and Aemond alone.

You could feel your brother’s pain emitting from every word he had written. You wept alone in the same room you are in now for the boy you had only met once before. His young, cherubic face and sweet pleasantries to Princess Helaena burning in your mind.

When you first read Forrest’s letter, the hopefulness you felt from Braeden’s news quickly evaporated. You were so distraught, you could not believe it. Unlike your Septa Earla’s tales about Prince Aemond when you were younger, these ones are more unbelievable. A kinslayer.  Aemond is now a kinslayer. How much has he changed in the last 4 years, 5 month, and 8 days since you last saw him that he has become someone who can take the life of his young nephew?

How could he be so different from the one you once knew, your best friend, the first and only man you have ever loved?

You have always been optimistic, and you know in your heart that whatever it was that caused Aemond to stop writing to you was not his fault. That it was something else keeping him from you. Perhaps he was even doing it to protect you. You just hoped he has read your and knows you are always thinking of him.

But with all that has unfolded, you are certain he did not get any of your letters – even the ones you sent while you were at Riverrun and in Harrenhal. Which could only mean that someone had been tampering your communication with your prince. 

Can you be that high on yourself to think that your love could have prevented all this from happening?

You are not sure, but what you are sure of is that now you think you are in a better headspace to write to your first love again, ready to lay your heart out on paper once more.

You write that you want to ease the pain and burden he has suffered throughout the years, knowing there is probably plenty for him to do something so terrible. You wish you could have been there for him during the death of his father, the way you were there for your husband when his father died just a few moons ago. You wish you could have celebrated all your name days together, for every last one you had the past four years, something was missing. You write that you still want him in your life. Perhaps not as his lover, but just as his best friend once again… 

With all that said, what you write to end the letter was:

But I think it’s time to let you go, my prince.

You did not even realize you had been crying until you taste the salt on your lips. After wiping the tears, you fold the letter up and seal it with wax, stamping it with the House Strong coat of arms instead of the Mormont sigil.

You stand then, letter in hand, walking to the hearth of the fire.

Just as you are about to throw the letter in, gone into the flames and unanswered like all the others you had written —- something stops you.

You want to keep it, the last letter that you poured out your feelings on. It is important to you, so you want to keep it as a reminder. 

On one of the shelves, you pull out a heavy book and slip it in between the pages. 

Shutting it, you stare at the cover with your heart aching at a memory. With your fingers, you trace the title… It is your prince’s favorite book, so it is the perfect place for keeping your last words for him.

Smiling sadly, you shelve the book back in its place. Then with one last look around the room, knowing you will not be spending as much time in there like you had before, you walk out the door.

--

Jeremy is already comfortably in bed with just a sleeping shirt and smallclothes on when you slip into the room. 

He places the book down he was reading on the bedside table and stands as soon as he sees you, looking surprised. “Hey, uh… You’re back earlier than usual.”

You give him a small shrug and that sweet, gentle smile of yours. “I think I just missed you, that’s why.”

Jeremy splutters, cheeks and ears turning red, looking like he did not quite catch what you said. It is as if he can’t even fathom you saying that to him. “Wha– uh…?”

Your stomach swoops in regret at the insecure look that flashes on your husband’s face. Was it really that unbelievable?

Though you are kind to your husband, you know you have not been very forthcoming with your feelings. If anything, you have kept him at an arm’s length, always close and yet not close enough — and Jeremy, sweet and docile Jeremy, does not seem to mind at all, just happy for anything he gets from you. You are sure if you asked him to eat out of the palm of your hand, he would. But you are not cruel. At least not in that way. You are just closed off, guarded with your heart – and that is not entirely your fault either. If you could, you’d give Jeremy your everything. You want to — so, so much. But it’s just not that easy.

But now, as you step closer and closer to where he stands frozen in his spot, you want to try .

Once in front of him, you gently push your palm on his chest, coaxing him to sit back down on the bed. You climb on top of him when he does, and his honeyed brown eyes are gazing at you like you are the sun, the moon, and all of the stars. 

You look at him just the same.

Then as you thread your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the back of his head, you bend down to finally press your lips against his – for the first time since the two of you said your vows.

Though his hands grip tight onto your hips, Jeremy still parts from you, sadness and more hesitation in those baby browns, “Are you sure.. I know another has your heart…” He bites his bottom lip, downcast, “You still dream of him.”

You cup his face, forcing him to face you and the tender smile on your lips. “No, Jeremy…” you begin, pressing your forehead against his. “This morning when I woke… It was you I was dreaming of.”

Your confession makes him exhale out a breath, hopeful. “Truly?”

You graze the tip of your nose against his as you nod, sharing the air he breathes. “Truly…”

Then it is Jeremy who captures your lips again, desperate and wanting.

And as the two of you take turns stripping the other between hurried kisses; you think that maybe, just maybe, it is possible for you to love someone new.

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