#naturally i put it in the queen's room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyhan · 3 months

Text

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is.

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office.

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?”

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money.

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed.

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?”

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?”

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition.

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable.

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain.

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things.

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her.

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year.

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help.

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage.

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him.

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner.

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have.

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention.

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time.

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people.

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work.

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude.

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored.

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so.

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon.

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent.

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then.

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh.

“I want revenge.”

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines.

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl.

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to.

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing.

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo.

From: Wonwoo Jeon Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife. The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away. Regards, Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success.

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints.

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after.

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.”

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse.

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer.

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen.

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama.

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands.

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again.

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

“A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered.

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?”

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.”

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on.

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious.

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk.

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness.

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene.

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?”

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job.

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?”

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow.

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital.

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange.

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane.

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days?

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change.

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers.

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him.

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?”

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further.

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?”

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved.

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable.

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time.

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place.

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?”

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice.

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual.

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact.

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements.

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars.

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen.

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one.

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in.

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again.

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life.

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer.

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings.

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away.

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion.

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence.

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?”

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car.

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals.

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe.

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples.

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts.

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.”

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.”

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all.

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!”

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in.

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium.

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma.

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido.

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.”

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work.

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards,

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #lovelyhan #full-length fic 📚#wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader

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saturnsorbits · 4 months

Text

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

#bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnsuggests

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whore-ibly-hot · 10 months

Text

Yan!Mean-Girls x Fem!Reader

"Just Girly Things"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying (Not at Reader), name callung, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, masturbation, sex toys, mean girls, dumbification, buying affection.

(AN: I'm not super proud of this one, but did my best. Never written a fem!Yan before.)

The sound of clicking keypads and the occasional scoff can be heard in Maggie Robinsons loft bedroom. As the most popular girl at Delta High, it was important her room look as perfect as her. She chews on the strawberry flavored gum in her mouth, scrolling through her phone. She scoffs. "Sasha, did you see Jenny Taylor's latest post?" Sasha gags and nods. "Totally a spray-on tan." Sasha says, and Maggie nods. "She looks like a fucking orange. I bet you that nerd she's been with, his dick is that same shade right now..." The two cackle.

"Is he sick?" The third and final member of the group of cheerleaders asks. "Why would his dick be orange?" Sasha sighs, and puts a hand on her friends knee. "Lindsey, his dick is orange because her fake tan would rub off on it. It isn't like, permanently that color. It was a joke." Sasha explains. Lindsey pauses and tilts her head, before giggling. "Oh, I get it!" She claps her hands together, shaking the sequinned bracelet around her wrist as she does so. Maggie grins and roll her eyes at Lindsey's air-headed nature. Luckily, Sasha is always around to explain he jokes, because Maggie won't. She likes to watch her dumb subordinate work things out slowly.

"What about you, newbie? Ever had a fake tan?" She whips her head over to face you. You gulp as the school's queen bee sets her sights on you. You aren't sure why she seemed so fixated on you since you joined Delta High. Maybe it's because you were pretty, or talented, or just really obedient, but she's been dragging you around like a little purse dog since you met her, with Sasha and Lindsey flanking you both at all times. "Um, no." You mumble. She nods, and says "Good, you already have good skin. I mean, you should get a little more tan, but not with that shitty spray stuff. Or, y'know, you'll turn some jocks dick orange." The three laugh. "Because the tan rubs off!" Lindsey giggles. Maggie rolls her eyes, and groans. "Yes, Lindsey. Thanks for explaining." Lindsey looks down.

"Speaking of, have any of the guys at school caught your eye? I mean, like, appropriate ones for you. Not a fucking mathlete dork or something." She asks. "Not really. I've never actually had a boyfriend." The three girls freeze, and gasp. "Seriously?" "You've never had a boyfriend?" Maggie asks. She waves frantically, trying to get you to sit beside her on her bed. "Why not?" She asks. "Do you have a sex disease? Like... like cancer?" Lindsey asks, eyes wide. "Sex cancer, seriously?" Sasha says, glancing at her blonde friend, who only shrugs. "No one was ever interested, I guess." You grimace. You hadn't ever been popular, only making Maggie's interest in you more jarring. You had finally gotten a peek at what it was like to be school royalty.

"Not interested? Aw, you poor baby." Maggie pouts. "That's why you have us, you know? To doll you up, and keep you popular, that way you can have anyone you want." Sasha chirps. "I can't believe no one ever tried to get with you, you're like, really pretty." You smile awkwardly. "Thanks, Lindsey."

Maggie scoots closer, and you bite back a gasp when you feel her cold hands on your tank top, cupping your breasts. "Honestly. The jocks at school are horndogs, they'll stick it in anything, I'm surprised you haven't gotten any attention because of these." She bites her lips as her eyes wander down to your cleavage. "They're natural, right?" You nod. You feel the bed dip behind you, as Sasha and Lindsey join the two of you on the bed. "So you've never kissed anybody?" Sasha asks, tilting her head as her curls bounce. "No, I've kissed a boy, back in church in like, middle school or something." You chuckle, shrugging and rolling your eyes.

"What about kissing girls?" Your eyes widen. You shake your head as you feel the three girls gazes resting heavily on you. "I haven't. Why do you ask?" Maggie grins. "You could try with us. You're one of us now, you've gotta live a little. I mean, you haven't even had a boyfriend, or done it with someone. Let us help you." She coos. She leans in, and you gulp. "Don't you have a boyfriend, Maggie? Jason, right?" She asks. Maggie nods. "Yeah, but like, he won't care. He'll probably think this is hot or something. Besides, it's just girls helping each other out. It's not like a random hookup, we're all friends here." She feigns hurt at your hesitance, pouting. "Don't you like us?" Lindsey whines, giving you puppy dog eyes as she rests her head on your shoulder from behind. "No, I like you guys, it's just-" You look at Lindsey. "Alright, we can do this." You sigh. Maggie grins, and puts her hands on your waist, pressing her chest to yours. "Good, it's not even weird. It's like, just girly things." She explains. She bites your lip playfully, making you blush as she finally presses her lips to yours. As you kiss the school's queen bee, you can taste the light strawberry flavor of her gum, and as she pulls away a string of sticky lip gloss connects your lips for a moment.

"See? You did good, especially for someone who's only kissed once before." Maggie coos. Lindsey pops up to kiss your cheek. "Your skin is so soft!" She giggles, nuzzling your neck. Sasha sits to the side, waiting for orders from Maggie. "Lemme see your chest." Maggie begins to tug up your tight, white tanktop, grinning when she sees that you have no bra on. "No bra, huh? Maybe you wanted us to do this?" She teases. "Pretty..." She circles her fingers around your left nipple, watching it pebble up. "I bet you're sensitive, huh?" Sasha asks. You can't speak, and only nod. Maggie's cold hands make you shiver, as she gropes your breasts with a wicked grin. She reaches down and puts Lindsey's hands on your breasts. "Lindsey, keep playing with her tits, okay? I'm gonna move a little lower." Lindsey nods, fondling your breasts from behind. "I'll try not to scratch you, my nails are kinda long right now..." She giggles. Maggie hikes up your skirt, keeping it around your waist. She licks her lips as she touches the black panties covering your cunt. "Are these from that department store on 9th?" She asks. "Uh, yeah?" She rolls her eyes. "You don't need to be wearing that shit, that's for people like Jenny Taylor, not girls like us. Tell you what-" She leans closer to your ear, kissing the shell of it. "You make me cum, and I'll take you downtown tomorrow and buy you something cute. That's sure to help you get a guy." She obviously has no intentions of getting you a boyfriend, considering the way her gaze turns possessive. Still, she can't deny that she likes the idea of seeing you in something lacey, especially something she bought you. She notices from the corner of her eye how Sasha is squirming, clearly eager to act, rubbing her thighs together subconsciously.

"Sasha?" Her head perks up immediatly, and she stills. "Y-yes, Maggie?" She pants. "Go get my wand, the pink one." Sasha nods, and scurries over to Maggie's closet, digging around for something. She manages to pull out a pink wand, with a microphone-like rubber tip. You can feel Maggies fingers trying to pull your panties to the side. "You ever played with yourself?" She whispers. You nod. "Yeah, a few times." You admit. "How?" She presses an index against your aroused clit. You gasp. "Fingers! I use my fingers, inside me." You moan. She pouts again, as Sasha hands her the wand. "Well, no wonder your little clit is so swollen, you've not been giving it any attention." She coos. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing." She takes the wand from Sasha. "It feels so good." Sasha says, her eyes full of sincerity. You wonder just how many times these girls have done this sort of thign. Does anyone else at school know?

You are torn from your thoughts when you hear a whirring sound. "What's that gonna do?" You ask. "It vibrates, and I'm just gonna press it right up against your clit, okay? It's gonna feel so fucking good..." She groans. "But, I'm going to enjoy something too. You know, for being such a good friend, and taking in a little newbie. You watch as Maggie mounts your thigh, gasping when you feel her slick pussy press against your leg. Has she not been wearing underwear this whole time? Your whole body flinches when you feel a pusling wave in your lower. "A-ah, shit." You grip the sheets of Maggie's bed tightly. Somehow, the stimulation to your clit makes Lindsey's pawing at your chest feel even more pleasurable. Maggie chuckles as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. "Feels good, huh? You like that? Your pretty new friends taking good care of you? Putting a pretty vibrator on your clit?" Her condescedngin tone makes you blush in shame. After a while, her moans grow in volume too. "Fuck, even just your thighs feel good. Maybe, god- maybe soon I'll ride your pussy like this." She groans. "God, not even Jason makes me feel this hot, this wet. That little limp-dick, can't even make me finish." She tilts her head back. "Sasha, take a photo, m' boutta cum." Sasha pales. "I don't... um, can I use you phone, mines dead?" Maggie doesn't open her eyes, but Sasha can sense her rage. "I don't care, just taking the fuckin' photo, I'm so close. C'mon, baby. Cum on my vibrator, I'll buy you something, anything, just do it." You weren't expecting to her Maggie beg for anything in your lifetime, much less for you to cum. Overwhelmed, you feel your orgasm hit hard. "M-maggie, I'm, oh..." She nods rapidly as she practically bounces on your thigh. "Yeah, right there, I'm cumming to..." She pants.

You close your eyes, but still sense a flash of light from Sasha snapping a photo. As your legs shake from the feeling, Maggie casually dismounts your thighs, sitting down on the bed beside you. She kisses your forehead. "You did so good. I'll get you something so cute to wear to school next week." She flips her hair and acts nonchalant, as if she hadn't just held a sex toy to your cunt while she rode your thigh like her life depended on it. "Sasha, let me see that photo." Sasha shows her the phone, and she grimaces. "Ugh, I look so fucking pale. Put a Sepia filter on it or something." Before Sasha can, Lindsay snatches the phone, and lets out a whine.

"Only my hands are in it! What the hell, Sasha!"

#yandere #yandere oc #ask me stuff #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #tw.dark content #yandere content #x reader #yandere girl #fem reader #fem yandere #yandere mean girl #yandere cheerleader #oc Sasha #oc Maggie #oc Lindsey

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igotanidea · 5 months

Text

Not enough: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

(Part 2 to too much)

„I am so terribly sorry for the inconvenience I might have brought on you with my sudden appearance-” she started while walking inside the place of her destination or, to put it more bluntly, after fleeting from her own house upon not-so-subtle fight with her still-husband.

„Y/n! Nonsense my dear, your presence is always welcomed here.” she heard in response and for the first time since the argument she managed to look into the eyes of another person as well as take in the scene in front of her.

Oh dear lord!

Her timing couldn’t be more wrong.

Apparently the only person who was missing from the widow viscountess Bridgerton household was the queen herself, since not only the lady of the house alongside with all her unmarried daughters were enjoying the afternoon tea, but - to Y/N’s very well hidden terror - the duchess and lady Danburry were present as well.

„duchess.” Y/N bowed in the most polite manner she could even though her knees were shaking „lady Danburry.”

Act like nothing happened.

Behave like a lady and not like a little kid, who came her to pour all her worries and tell on her husband who happened to be mean. The last thing she needed was for everyone to talk about her nervousness and giddiness. None of those ladies would be easily fooled and most definitely not lady Danburry with her nosy nature and piercing gaze.

The point was to visit her favourite sister-in-law Eloise who- luckily - were free of any marriage troubles and gain some perspective but that scenario flew away with the gentle summer breeze faster than Y/N could think.

And now she would be kindly invited to join the tea and the respect for widower viscountess alongside with the obligation to the higher positioned duchess (even if family) would forbid her from declining.

„Y/N.” Daphne sent her that tiny, quite shy smile that didn’t calm the nerves even in the slightest. Yes, the duchess was one of the most polite and subtle person in the society, but she was also happily married with another baby on the way.

„Viscountess Bridgerton.” the oldest, lady Danburry on the opposite was known from her sharp tongue and straightforward attitude. That one did not pull her punches.

„My dearest Y/N.” Violet Bridgerton, the mother in law stood up from her place and hugged the girl close. Obviously she was the most open one with her emotions. And the simple warm welcome made Y/n feel a bit strengthened to the point when she even gave a little smile. Tiniest, but honest and still visible.

„Is Anthony with you my dear?’

„Unfortunately my husband is absorbed with the matter of the household today.” Y/N explained, taking a seat next to Violet. „I was rather confused with all the men’s affairs, which brought me here.”

„confused?” Eloise, of whose presence everyone seemed to forget scoffed from her book „You are way smarter that Anthony is, Y/n!”

„Eloise!” her mother friendly scolded her second daughter

„It’s true mama!”

„Even though-’

„Did you come baring notices by any chance, viscountess?" lady Agatha cut into the family exchange innocently taking a sip of her tea, those sharp eyes of a predator glistening

„Notices?”

„Yes viscountess, notices. It;s been a fair amount of time since the marriage, surely something should happen soon between two people who are lucky enough to be in love as much as yo and the viscount?”

Oh...

Oh, she meant that kind of notices.

„May this be so, Y/n?” Daphne asked seeming uncharacteristically brisk. „shall we expect?”

„I certainly hope she won’t be burdened with the heir to the title any time soon--”

‘Eloise!”

„Is it the only purpose of a woman to be obedient to a man and give him children?!”

All the four older woman in the room went quiet and Eloise realised she might have had said a little bit too much. Not only for the lady but in general.

„I suppose our dearest Y/N would love to become a mother and bless us with the little boy or girl, am I correct?”

Of course I would love to, Violet.

I would love to.

Unfortunately so it happens your oldest son refuses to even speak or look at me, let alone performing his so-called marital duty. Which is even more tragic, since I became one to him. Here is the essence of my existence - forever being reminded of the burden I put on his shoulder with storming into his life.

Obviously those thoughts were something the newest viscountess Bridgerton could not form out loud.

„I shall send the regards to my husband ladies. Certainly will not omit to inform him of the expectation placed upon us both.” was the only thing she managed to say with confidence before her voice broke and she covered the sudden wavering by reaching for the sweet placed on the nearby platter.

„Oh my dearest Y/N, it’s no obligation!” Violet seemed quite hurt by the words spoken by her daughter-in-law „Regardless - a child is always a miracle that-”

„Maybe Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about it, if Anthony were taking more interest in her rather than spending time with Benny and Colin.”

„Eloise!”

„It’s just a simple observation! Benedict and Colin are still bachelors, even though the ladies of kind are sharpening their claws for them both, considering the fact the viscountess title is not longer available. Nonetheless, neither of them seem to be interested in taking in marriage-”

‘Eloise!” Violet called upon her daughter once more

„Perhaps if they weren’t spending their times in the club, effectively convincing Anthony to go with them--”

‘Enough, young lady!”

„But-”

„Enough Eloise.”

Y/N went pale at all the words spoken. Not because of their truthfulness, but due to the fact that the word already got out. This was a calamity she was trying her best to cover up and now her favourite member of the family announced them to the world, not thinking about the possible consequences of aforementioned action.

„Y/N, are you quite all right?” Daphne was the first one to take some action „that sudden pallor cannot be good for you. Shall we take a walk?”

Naturally the little stroll around the room will be something to make her feel better. Luckily the most perceptive Eloise noticed the torpid expression on the viscountess face and, not giving her sister any chance to press the matter further, vigorously explained that Daphne certainty meant an actual promenade outside on the manor grounds and that was something y/n was more than delighted to engage in.

Presenting a perfect opportunity to actually indulge in a meaningful conversation not regarding children and submission due to a woman.

***

On the other side of the city Anthony didn’t even notice his wife’s actual absence.

How could he, when she was always present and vivid in his mind, leaving him with her image in front of his eyes even when she was away from him.

Y/N’s face and silhouette, her smile and her resonant, joyful laughter were forever carved in his mind, ever since the day she laughed at him at the lake upon their first meeting, through the first moment of stolen forbidden intimacy, up to the moment looked into her eyes while vowing to love and to cherish her.

His beautiful bride.

His beautiful wife.

Strong willed, hot headed, always having an opinion of her own and doing things her own way, capable to charm everyone with the cheerful character and most natural humor and intelligence.

All the traits that could not be bought by any of the obedient, quiet and shy ladies from high society.

All the traits that put him under her spell and made him want to spend the rest of his life with Y/n.

Only with her.

And he didn’t want to fight, he wanted the same kind of marriage his own parents were joyful to share.

It was all so perfect, until the moment those bright memories got covered with storm clouds of how he behave towards her.

Not that the viscount gave them much thoughts, too lost in his own meaningless settlements that were not due till the fore-coming month.

It was easier this way.

Forgetting about all the words he said int he moment of anger and of fear (if not mere terror) of his own emotions.

Emotions that, unfortunately, refused to be closed in a hard shell of harsh, obsessive behaviour and being ignored.

Once let out, they wanted to run free.

And oh, so they did, causing the viscount to feel dizzy and giving him palpitations.

All the marriages had their bad moments.

It was impossible to continue for years keeping the same flame that started years ago.

The wife was supposed to be obedient and comply with her husband wishes, especially not bothering him with her presence and whimsical needs or fairy-tell beliefs.

A lady was a diamond in the crown but a wife became a part of the estate, of the livestock. Forever in her husband’s hand to rule.

He was the the man.

He was the viscount and before he met her she was just another long-forgotten by admirers débutante desperate to--

No.

No this was not true and as much as it would be comfortable for Anthony to dwell in all those thoughts, his heart was still in the right place giving him a very clear signal it was time to stop justifying his previous action. Those were the foundation for a very unstable and fragile house that could be blown away easily.

Maybe it wasn’t that his emotions were too much. Maybe it was that his heart capacity was not enough to contain the amount of affection he held for his one and only.

His Y/N.

And he couldn’t have that.

He had to find her wherever she might have been.

He had to fight for her and make it all right.

Even if that meant getting back on his knees, making a scene straight out of those unrealistic romance novels ladies loved and putting it into practice.

„Where on earth is my wife?!” he yelled to the servants, opening the door to his office, his voice loud enough to make the walls shake.

I’m coming for you, my viscountess.

My love.

***

It's not over yet!

Edit: part 3 : almost there

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4

@gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm

@bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst

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vivmaek · 7 months

Text

STYLE AND AESTHETICS: Astrology Observations

Within this post, there are three different sections.

The Ascendant (physical appearance, character)

The Venus Sign (relationship to aesthetics)

The 5th House (self-expression)

SECTION ONE: THE ASCENDANT

●・○・●・○・●

Aries - Known for their distinct facial features and athletic builds. They look younger than they are and always have bright smiles. Risk takers and adrenaline junkies. Always prepared to jump into something new. Their energetic aura is hard to miss.

Archetype: The Warrior

Tarot Card: The Emperor

●・○・●・○・●

Taurus - It's all about symmetry. They have pretty faces and usually have round eyes. Something about them looks delicate despite their strong postures. Down to earth individuals and connected to nature.

Archetype: The Sensualist

Tarot Card: The Hierophant

●・○・●・○・●

Gemini - You can read these people like a book, one of the most expressive rising signs. There's always a smirk on their face. They walk fast, talk fast, and think quickly. They lure people in with their charms and fun stories. They’re mischievous little fairies.

Archetype: The Jester

Tarot Card: The Lovers

●・○・●・○・●

Cancer - Something about their appearance makes them easy to trust. Their soft features are beautiful and they move gently. You never know what mood they’re in. Elusive individuals who flourish within the private sphere.

Archetype: The Healer

Tarot Card: The Chariot

●・○・●・○・●

Leo -Their high level of confidence is always noticed first. They have a domineering presence that looms over others, everyone knows when they’ve entered a room. Big smiles and loud laughs. They’re here for a good time and will go out of their way to make sure other people are having fun.

Archetype: The Hero

Tarot Card: Strength

●・○・●・○・●

Virgo - These types intimidate people through their subtle expressions. They have bright and clear eyes that are always observing their surroundings. They look clever and are always put together. Understated beauty when it comes to their physical appearance. I think of pixies with this placement because of their sharp, edgy features, and cutting remarks.

Archetype: The Sage

Tarot Card: The Hermit

●・○・●・○・●

Libra - They glow with beauty. Very charming. The most conventionally attractive. They’re sort of everybody's type. Girl next door vibes. The person giggling and flirting at the back of the classroom.

Archetype: The Princess/Prince

Tarot Card: Justice

●・○・●・○・●

Scorpio - It's all in the eyes. That is the first feature everyone notices within a Scorpio rising. They make eye contact and want people to know that they see them for who they are. Did I mention intense? They have a heavy energy.

Archetype: The Alchemist

Tarot Card: Death

●・○・●・○・●

Sagittarius - So cheerful and ready to join in. They have bright and happy facial expressions. They carry themselves with confidence. Always moving, they use their whole body to express themselves. Wild stallions.

Archetype: The Explorer

Tarot Card: Temperance

●・○・●・○・●

Capricorn - Something about them looks resilient. Their strength as a person is immediately evident. This is the person you go to when life gets too chaotic. They look older than they actually are. People rely on them and they carry this weight with them everywhere they go.

Archetype: The Queen/King

Tarot Card: The Devil

●・○・●・○・●

Aquarius - Odd-balls. They look different compared to everyone else. Calm, cool, and collected. They look detached. Awkward in an endearing sort of way. They surprise people with their eccentric ways.

Archetype: The Rebel

Tarot Card: The Star

●・○・●・○・●

Pisces - Sometimes they look half asleep. Wherever they are, they’re not here. Always staring off into the distance. Large, emotional eyes. Old souls who have already seen too much.

Archetype: The Mystic

Tarot Card: The Moon

●・○・●・○・●

SECTION TWO: THE VENUS SIGN

●・○・●・○・●

Aries - These people know what they want. Very decisive about what sort of aesthetics they enjoy, and they tend to stick to it. They’re all about being authentic and they want their appearance to reflect this. They love bright colors and flashy prints, especially animal prints. They don’t care if other people don’t like what they like. They’re not highly influenced by fashion trends like other Venus signs. They’d rather try something new and completely original. Obviously, they like to present themselves with a lot of sex appeal.

Colors: crimson, bronze, canary yellow, admiral, eggplant, hot pink

●・○・●・○・●

Taurus - The most likely to stick to fashion trends. People with this placement are probably going crazy over the “clean girl aesthetic,” because it's right up their alley. They want to enhance their own natural beauty. They enjoy the routine of self care, and you can tell just by looking at them that they take good care of themselves. They have an innate understanding of what's currently in, but they’re not experimental. They want to look pretty, not odd or strange. They’re also not trying to make any statements with their appearance, they’re only looking for admiration.

Colors: ruby, honey, dijon, basil, cerulean, mulberry, peach

●・○・●・○・●

Gemini - It's hard to define the aesthetic and style of a Gemini Venus because it’s always changing. I actually think this is quite exciting, and I wish more people were willing to try things they normally wouldn’t. They learn about themselves through the ways in which they dress. They want to explore their own identity. They’re not afraid to embrace the multi-faceted person that they are. They’re always changing up their look based on where they’re going, who they’re seeing, and what place in life they’re currently at.

Colors: blush, tangerine, buttermilk, chartreuse, sky blue, periwinkle, strawberry

●・○・●・○・●

Cancer - Being comfortable is important for a Cancer Venus. They pay a lot of attention to the weight and textures of fabrics. They might feel more drawn to high quality pieces because of the way it feels against skin. They love oversized clothing, and might even try to hide themselves through clothing. You won’t catch them putting on skin tight clothing just to look sexy. They’ll probably opt for more sensual pieces that move and flow naturally with the body. They’re also the most fond of outdated clothing trends and often bring them back into style.

Colors: garnet, amber, sepia, crocodile, ocean blue, iris, cherry blossom

●・○・●・○・●

Leo - People with this placement are on a mission to always look their best. They dress for an audience. These are “it-girls,” who are always with the trends. They garner a lot of attention and praise through the ways in which they dress. London Tipton vibes. The types of people who never wear an outfit twice. They love expressing themselves through their sense of style, this is something that brings them a lot of joy. They’re drawn to flashy pieces that make big statements.

Colors: carmine, merigold, sunflower, emerald, cobalt, magenta, punch

●・○・●・○・●

Virgo - Oof, these people get picky when it comes to the clothing they wear. They have a keen eye for detail and notice when something has been poorly manufactured. They have high standards and they put a lot of thought into the ways in which they want to portray themselves aesthetically. They’re all about accessories, which really elevates their look. They probably own lots of interesting trinkets that they use to adorn their appearance. They’re fond of handmade clothing, such as crocheted sweaters and upcycled fabrics. They can sniff out all the good clothing items within a thrift store.

Colors: sangria, clay, hazel wood, sage, aegean, grape, crepe

●・○・●・○・●

Libra - People with this placement are prim and polished. They understand the power of beauty and glamor. They can think of things that other people wouldn’t when dressing themselves. Perfume and the way in which they smell is important, they understand this influences how people will visually perceive them. They balance makeup, jewelry, accessories, and fine clothing all within one look. Nothing appears to be out of place. Other people are incredibly attracted to the aesthetics that they craft. They make it seem so easy.

Colors: rose, deep saffron, macaroon, pistachio, sapphire, lilac, rouge

●・○・●・○・●

Scorpio - If anyones going to have an extensive collection of lingerie, it's going to be a Scorpio Venus. They think about what they’ll wear underneath their clothes before anything else. Underwear creates shapes and silhouettes, and they understand how this influences the appearance of outer wear. They love it when clothing has intimate details, and they want their pieces to present a seductive quality. Leather, lace, and mesh are right up their alley. They go for looks that are dark, moody, and dramatic. They get a kick out of making people uncomfortable through their appearance, they like having that sort of power over people.

Colors: mahogany, spice, sand dollar, seaweed, peacock, raisin, baby pink

●・○・●・○・●

Sagittarius - These types are going to feel more drawn to athleisure in comparison to other Venus signs. They like to move around, the clothing they wear needs to support this. Someone with this placement might dress like they’re going for a hike everyday, even if they’re not. They don’t stick to the same thing all the time though, they know how to dress up for an event. They’re probably all about the cargo pants trend, they love having lots of pockets for storage. They're the most likely to carry around a purse with them everyday. Mini skirts or anything showing off their legs looks especially good on people with this placement.

Colors: currant, ginger, tuscany, moss, indigo, plum, magenta

●・○・●・○・●

Capricorn - The “old-money” aesthetic comes to mind when thinking about this placement. These types are incredibly chic. They’re trying to garner respect through their appearance and will opt for looks that highlight their elegance. They’re also very picky about what they wear, they won’t buy something unless they absolutely love it. They don’t pay too much attention to trends and are more drawn to timeless silhouettes. Much of their style is centered upon whatever career field they belong to.

Colors: wine, sandstone, beige, pine, navy, english violet, rosewood

●・○・●・○・●

Aquarius - They want to be the most unique person in the room and will use their aesthetic to achieve this. They’re not afraid to present bold looks and they want their sense of authenticity to be evident. They’re inventive with their style and are always willing to try something new. They don’t worry too much about the judgments of others, they don’t care if people think they look strange. They don’t participate in clothing trends because they’re the ones setting trends.

Colors: brick, cadmium orange, pale goldenrod, persian green, teal, heather, salmon

●・○・●・○・●

Pisces - People with this placement channel their inner fantasies into their appearance. They don’t set boundaries for themselves and will wear whatever inspires them the most that day. Their favorite tv shows and movies hold a major influence over their style. They can see themselves within fictional characters, and through this they develop their taste for aesthetics. Because of this, they appear otherworldly. Their inspirations are not based within reality. They treat their everyday outfits as if they were costumes.

Colors: berry, coral, pastel yellow, mint, arctic blue, lavender, ballet slipper

●・○・●・○・●

SECTION THREE: THE 5th HOUSE

Within this section, I used fashion designers as examples. However, the amount of designers with accessible birth charts is incredibly limited. For Venus, Mars, and Neptune, I used different examples still related to fashion and self-expression. I also noticed that Uranus within the 5th house was the most common placement for fashion designers. If you don't have any planets placed within the 5th house, I'd recommend using its planetary ruler.

Sun in the 5th House: Alexander Mcqueen

“I design clothes because I don’t want women to look all innocent and naïve… I want woman to look stronger… I don’t like women to be taken advantage of… I don’t like men whistling at women in the street. I think they deserve more respect. I like men to keep their distance from women, I like men to be stunned by an entrance. I’ve seen a woman get nearly beaten to death by her husband. I know what misogyny is… I want people to be afraid of the women I dress.”

provocative, romantic, regal, striking, theatrical, dignified

Alexander Mcqueen is a highly celebrated fashion designer who defined what fashion could look like for women within the 21st century. Mcqueen felt a need to protect women and did this through the clothing that he created. He knew that women were deserving of respect and wanted to present them in a dignified manner. Alexander Mcqueen's aesthetic demands attention, it is majestic and imposing.

Moon in the 5th House: Oscar de la Renta

“There is always an emotional element to anything that you make.”

delicate, feminine, intimate, graceful, gentle

Oscar de la Renta cites his mother and sisters as his greatest source of inspiration. He grew up surrounded by women, and deeply admired them. In turn, the women within his life supported his artistic endeavors and pushed him to embrace his creativity. La Renta felt that each and every women deserves to feel beautiful. He wanted women to embrace their personalities through clothing. He took the time to understand his clients on a personal level so that his designs would stay true to who they were as people.

Mercury in the 5th House: Betsey Johnson

“Making clothes involves what I like...color, pattern, shape and movement...I like the everyday process...the people, the pressure, the surprise of seeing the work come alive walking and dancing around on strangers. Like red lipstick on the mouth, my products wake up and brighten and bring the wearer to life...drawing attention to her beauty and specialness...her moods and movements...her dreams and fantasies.”

playful, energetic, quirky, colorful, unique, tacky

Betsey Johnson took the high-femme ideal and made it comical. Johnson wanted to have fun with her designs, and she wanted women to have fun when wearing them. She was all about creating sexy silhouettes rooted within mischief. Johnson describes her aesthetic as “pretty and punk.” Girlish elements juxtaposed with edgy qualities. Betsey Johnson was especially popular amongst teen girls in the 80s. Johnson was the one who crafted the stereotypical puffy, pink, 80s prom dress. Betsey girls embrace their playfulness because being sophisticated is too boring.

Venus in the 5th House: Naomi Cambell

“I don't think I was born beautiful. I just think I was born me.”

dramatic, glamorous, magnetic, exclusive, luxurious, sensual

Naomi Cambell has held major influence over the fashion industry. Campbell was one of the first black models to reach supermodel status, was the first black woman on the covers of British and French Vogue, and was the first black woman to appear on the cover of Time magazine. She challenged beauty ideals within society, and opened doors for other women of color. Campbell is the ultimate fashion icon and was a muse for many designers, especially Azzedine Alaïa. Campbell is now an editor at British Vogue, and her influence remains powerful.

Mars in the 5th House: Jonathan Jony Ive

“If something is going to be better, it is new, and if it’s new you are confronting problems and challenges you don’t have references for.”

innovative, crucial, unobtrusive, thorough, minimalistic

Okay, who is this guy?? I didn’t know until I started doing research for this post, but after reading about him I think everyone should know his name. Ive served as senior vice president of industrial design and was the chief design officer for Apple Inc. This man crafted design motifs that have held major influence over the aesthetic of the 21st century. He brought focus to all white color pallets, translucency, dark aluminum, and slate. Ive played a vital role within the designing process of the iPod, the iPhone, and the iPad, plus much more. Ive believes that function and aesthetic go hand and hand, they are not two separate entities.

Jupiter in the 5th House: Vivienne Westwood

“I’m not terribly interested in beauty. What touches me is someone who understands herself.”

rebellious, independent, bold, irreverent, maximinimalism

Vivienne Westwood wanted her clothing to be life-enhancing, she put a lot of effort into developing the philosophy of her brand. She was also adamant that the only way a person could develop personal identity is through intellectual pursuits. Westwood claimed that carrying The Catcher in the Rye under an arm is one of the most fashionable things a person can do. Westwood believed that you develop style through the process of truly knowing yourself.

Saturn in the 5th House: Isabel Marant

“You can’t put together a formula for how to look gorgeous – it's a question of personality.”

nonchalant, classy, understated, parisian, timeless

Marant is focused on crafting clothing that will last for a long time, she wants people to wear her pieces for years on end. Marant doesn’t follow trends and sticks to classic silhouettes that will always hold relevancy. Her clothing has integrity, and she wants people to feel independent and strong when wearing her pieces. I also think it's interesting that Isabel Marant has a code of ethics displayed on her website, she is committed to holding her company to a high standard. This isn’t something I saw when exploring other fashion houses.

Uranus in the 5th House: Pierre Cardin

"The clothes I prefer are those I have created for a life that does not yet exist, the world of tomorrow."

futuristic, unconventional, sculptural, clean, revolutionary

Pierre Cardin is an absolute legend. Cardin developed the aesthetic of the space age during the 50s and 60s. He embraces the avant-garde and holds a love for geometric shapes and patterns. Cardin completely disregarded the female form and was one of the firsts to craft gender non-comforming clothing. Many of his pieces are unisex. His clothing is not practical, but it is thought provoking. However, Cardin did pave the way for our modern day athleisure aesthetic. Cardin crafted the foundations for athletic clothing, which was something not seen before his time.

Neptune in the 5th House: Sandy Powell

"Costume design isn’t about fashion. Fashion is fashion. Costume design is characters and costumes, so nothing to do with whether you’re fashionable or not, or understanding fashion.”

imaginative, whimsical, dream-like, eccentric, sensitive

Powell is not a clothing designer, she's a costume designer. She has won 43 oscars for her contributions within the film industry. You’d know her from The Wolf of Wall Street, Shakespear in Love, and Interview with a Vampire, plus much more. What makes Powell such a legend is her understanding of how character and story come into play when developing designs. She is not trying to make statements through her costumes, she is trying to enhance the personality of the characters. The costumes she's crafted are influential upon fashion trends outside of film. We all need a little fantasy within our daily lives.

Pluto in the 5th House: Donatella Versace

“I know fashion is not something that can change the world, but it can change the woman. It can empower the woman. It can make her strong, in herself, and to believe in herself more.”

seductive, dynamic, subversive, spectacular, powerful, daring

It is no coincidence that Donatella Versace became an important figure within the fashion industry after the death of her dear brother, Gianni. Donatella has faced many tragedies within her life. Within her own fashion philosophy, Donatalla tries to combat insecurity through clothing. There is no way a woman will ever appear timid when wearing Versace, and that's exactly what Donatella wants. Being a shy woman herself, Donatella is able to transform herself through the clothing that she wears. She understands the power of fashion, and wants to remind every woman that something truly fabulous resides within them.

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flowerandblood · 16 days

Text

Flowers and Thorns (1/2)

[ canon • Aemond x courtesan • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, working in the brothel, mention of murder, kind of trauma ]

[ description: Prince Aemond arrives unexpectedly on the Street of Silk, and she is chosen by Madame to soothe his stoic, stony nature and give him what he needs. ]

After a few seconds from the trailer that changed our lives, this short little series was created. No more thoughts.

Part 2 − Hopes and Prayers

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"You've grown so much." She heard Madame's soft voice, looking curiously with several young girls at the figure of a man barely visible behind a red translucent curtain.

One of them is going to make a pretty penny that night, she thought with amusement. She glanced at her friend Lysa and noticed, seeing the mocking smile on her face, that she was thinking the same thing.

Madame was their guardian, if you could call it that, but unlike most of the owners of the taverns on The Street of Silk, she was concerned with quality, not quantity.

They, meaning her girls, were women of culture and elegance, not simple whores, and that was how they preferred to think of themselves, giving their flesh only in the process.

She blinked, hearing that Madame was answered by an uncomfortable silence, the newcomer's head turned to the side in impatience.

She thought the man was very tense and frustrated.

A common reaction to feeling embarrassed.

Madame knew what to do in such cases.

"Do you have any particular requests?" She asked softly, their heard the man hum quietly.

"Mmm. I will rely…on your taste." She heard a low, hoarse, slightly trembling voice that sent shivers through her.

Madame nodded and led him to one of the most expensive chambers. After a moment, she returned and approached them, sighing quietly, eyeing them one by one, as if she were pondering the choice of the right juicy fruit.

"The matter is very delicate. The King's younger brother is shy and withdrawn. His lack of an eye does not help him. Come, sweet girl." She purred, extending her hand to her, and she giggled, smiling broadly, thinking she had never seen anyone from the royal family in the flesh before.

Her friends slipped fresh field flowers into her hair and rubbed oils on her neck, as if they were preparing her for her wedding night − they put on her translucent purple robe, one of the most expensive they had, her dark hair partly pinned up in a bun at the back of her head.

She wondered with a fast-beating heart if the Prince resembled the King.

She had never had the opportunity to lie with King Aegon but from what she had heard, he had a taste in depravity that she was not a lover of.

Madame, however, would not have chosen her if it had been the same in this case, and as she trusted her judgement, she went to his chamber with a light heart.

As she closed the door behind her, she caught sight of his tall figure standing in front of the mirror − he turned towards her, frightened by her sudden presence, his face pale, his nostrils twitching rapidly in an anxious breath, his hands entwined on his back clenched into fists.

He was more than tense.

He was terrified.

Something was happening inside his head.

She bowed without a word, knowing that men of his kind did not like pretense.

She decided that she would not approach him until he commanded her to do so himself.

He swallowed hard, turning his face towards the bed, as if wondering what he was actually doing.

The most devoted to the Seven of all the Queen's children seeking comfort in the brothel.

She thought it was nothing to be ashamed of, but she knew that he did not crave her advice.

He thought for certain that she would approach him and coquet him, whispering about what she would do with him and how much she craved him, but she just moved ahead towards the other part of the room, watching him curiously. His gaze followed her.

"How old are you?" He asked reluctantly.

"Old enough, Your Grace. Madam doesn't hurt children." She replied meekly, bestowing him with a warm, comforting smile. His gaze softened − he hummed at her words and nodded.

Only after a moment did his gaze sweep over her entire figure, allowing himself to look at her. He swallowed hard again, his lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was impatient.

"May I undo your tunic, Your Grace? You'll be uncomfortable in it." She said, and he looked deeply into her eyes.

She thought he had an extremely intriguing face − he looked like a statue, his jaw long and sharply defined just like his nose, his mouth full, capable of caressing any woman wonderfully.

She felt a squeeze between her thighs at that thought.

His eye patch or what he wore under it didn't matter to her, but he didn't know that.

He nodded, lowering his gaze to the floor.

His thoughts were still fleeing somewhere far away.

She approached him slowly with a quiet rustling of her robe and didn't dare look at him as she reached her hands into the buckles of his tunic, slowly undoing them one by one.

She could smell his pleasant scent, the fact that he had taken a bath, his warm, quickened breath enveloping the top of her head.

He still kept his hands behind his back and didn't dare touch her.

She thought with a smile that she would use one of her fantasies, her being a lord's wife, using her skills during their wedding night to win his heart.

That night she didn't want to just be a whore.

It seemed to her that he didn't want that either.

He helped her by sliding the material off his shoulders, and she took it from him and placed it on the table standing next to them. She shuddered as his knuckles ran over her cheek, a wave of heat and desire surging through her spine and lower abdomen.

She looked up at him and met his dark, deep gaze, his full lips slightly parted.

"Your father sold you here?" He whispered, for some reason needing to get closer to her, to get to know her before what was about to happen.

She understood him and it occurred to her why Madame had chosen her.

She was able to take her time, to give the most shy of their clients the comfort and reassurance she herself so desperately needed.

"Doesn't every woman eventually get sold by her father to some man?" She asked, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that might resemble a smile, a glint in his eye.

"Mmm."

He felt it.

Some kind of twisted, helpless bond.

He kissed her, enclosing her face in his broad hands, rough from wielding the sword, surely. She gasped under her breath, feeling her nipples harden at the thought of how gentle this caress was − his lips, full, warm and wet, ran and brushed hers with the quiet click of their saliva.

She dared to place her small hand on his wrist and he sighed quietly, moving closer to her, deliberately shortening the distance between them − his body slammed into hers, his half-hard erection pulsed softly in his breeches.

She hugged him around the waist, allowing him to feel through the fabric of their garments the pleasing shape of her plump, sweet breasts − he drew in a loud breath feeling it, one of his hands traveled down her back, his fingers tentatively clamped on her buttock.

"− yes −" She whispered into his mouth, wanting him to know that she desired this, that she was not driven by pity or any other reason that might disgust him.

He murmured into her mouth at her words and moaned low when her tongue licked his, encouraging him to caress her more boldly. In response, he caught her under her hips and lifted her up − she giggled quietly, throwing her arms around his neck, a look of peace on his face, but also of pride, satisfaction and curiosity.

As he laid her down on the bed, he pulled the eye patch from his face as if it was her he was exposing, apparently expecting a reaction for which he might punish her, fuck her like a disobedient little whore − she, however, felt a squeeze between her thighs at the sight of the precious blue stone gleaming in his eye socket, her fingers ran over the line of his scar making him draw in air loudly.

With a quick, impatient gesture, he drew her hips closer to him, forcing her to spread her thighs before him. He reached into the material of his breeches, untying them, looking at her piercingly, his breathing quick and raspy.

"− show me your breasts −" He commanded, and she felt his words deep inside her. Immediately she slipped the material of her robe off her shoulders, his lips parted wider in desire at the sight of her little, puffy nipples.

"− fuck −" He breathed out, squeezing his long, throbbing erection in his hand, just looking at her.

She knew he didn't want her touching him, that if she threatened his privacy or comfort she would ruin everything.

"− do you want to feel it inside you? −" He gasped, and she nodded eagerly, looking at him expectantly, breathing loudly as he did, excited.

"− there you go − shhh − no, look at me −" He exhaled, guiding the fat head of his cock against her swollen slit, leaking from her wetness − her body resisted him for a moment, his eye closed as he opened her wide with her cry of exertion.

She looked at his face where droplets of sweat glistened, his lips swollen with desire, his long white hair tickling her face.

"− it's half way in − are you able to fit it whole? −" He muttered, as if asking her permission, and she nodded quickly, dreaming of nothing else now.

For some reason she wanted him to do this to her.

She tilted her head back seeing his grin of satisfaction, his hips impatiently thrusting deeper into her tight, fleshy interior, filling her to the brim.

"− I'm impressed − maybe I should visit you more often? − you seem shy for −" He exhaled but didn't finish, as if he decided it wasn't the best time to offend her, a loud sigh left their throats when he finally put it all the way in.

"− a woman of your kind −" He gasped.

"− I didn't choose this life −" She mumbled before she had time to think what had actually left her mouth. She saw his pupil dilate in surprise and she thought she had made a huge mistake.

His whole body froze, his cock pulsed greedily deep inside her.

"− nor I mine −"

She smiled at his words with some kind of gratitude, from which he swallowed hard. He surprised her when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, their hands gripping their cheeks, his hot breath enveloping her skin.

"− I'm going to accelerate now −" He exhaled and she nodded, feeling a shrug at the thought of how much, though he certainly didn't think of it that way, he cared that she didn't push him away now, that she didn't look at him with disgust or resentment.

They both groaned as his thighs began to slam loudly against her buttocks, again and again pounding his already fully hard, thick erection into her, her hands clenched on his back, trying to find a rhythm with him, a wonderful shiver ran down her back each time he teased a wonderful spot deep inside her.

His body pressed her against the bed, which began to creak loudly beneath them, his breath heavy as her legs intertwined on his back, allowing him to thrust into her as deeply as he desired, his lips licking and brushing her mouth in the wettest, warmest, messiest kisses she'd ever experienced in her entire life.

"− ah −" He exhaled helplessly, feeling her little cunt begin to clench around his manhood in fulfilment and suck him inside, soaking him wet, intensifying his sensation, a sweet, innocent, girlish moan of delight ripped from her throat.

Their hands wandered blindly over their hot bodies, his fingers again and again returning to her breasts, finally clamping down on them when she felt he was close, their bodies all sticky from their shared moisture.

"− yes − yes, oh gods, yes −" He breathed out, clenching his eyes with an expression of some immense relief that surprised her − he drew in air deeply, as if he were choking, and then tear after tear began to run down his face hot with emotion, his eye clenched as he burst out suddenly into sobs, as if what flowed out of him was not just his seed.

"− I killed him − I killed him −" He whimpered, clenching his hands on either side of her head into fists, his hot tears one by one began to flow onto her cheeks. He covered his face with his hands, as if he didn't want her to look at it.

"− gods − gods, forgive me −"

She put her arms around his head and he let her pull him close, snuggling immediately into her body, his face pressed against her neck.

Never before in her life had she witnessed someone next to her burst into such helpless, almost childlike crying.

"− shhh − I know − I know it's scary −" She whispered, he drew in a deep breath as if he was suffocating.

"− if you tell anyone about this −" He hissed maliciously.

"− never −"

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thesirenisles · 1 month

Text

Neptune’s Angels🐚🪽

beauty, love, planet energy astrology observation✨

Neptune in the 1st House, Neptune in 2nd

Neptune Ascendant Aspects

Neptune Sun Aspects, Neptune Ruled/ Dominant

Pisces Sun, Venus, Moon, Mars

Pisces Ascendant, Pisces Rising

12th House Placements, esp. Pluto, Neptune, Sun

🐚“Ethereal, but beheld. She was absolutely magical. A changeling. The moon danced in her wet eyes, beckoned by her pure heart. Then like the tide.. she was gone.”

please don’t copy any of my original work.

🧿BEWARE OF ENVY🧿

esp. 12th housers, 1st housers, and Pisces Asc & Venus

You never have to do too much. Your siren’s tune announces your presence before you enter the room. Gifted with the siren’s stare and the mermaid’s heart. In social settings, you will find many people push their projections upon you, envious of your ethereal energy.

In example,

POV: You are engaged in a conversation about a niche topic you possess extensive knowledge of (with your philosopher’s soul lol). The person you’re speaking to is mesmerized, completely entranced by your eye contact.

Usually a particularly miserable, (insecure, mean girl type) bystander who witnesses this energy exchange, picks up on this. They see the genuine glimmer in your eyes and can easily deem it flirtation, flattery, and even worse…arrogance to others. This can create negative clouds of gossip, fueled by your natural mystery.

This lack of clear energy, the child-like purity you possess is a key theme of Neptune. This Neptunian energy makes for a juicy meal for the beasts called Envy and Jealousy.

I believe it’s worthy to note the distinct difference between the two.

Jealousy is anger towards the thought of losing something to another, whether that’s a competition, person, or admiration.

Envy, of course is wanting to possess exactly what the other person has. Envy calls upon an evil fouler beast… the coveting.

Coveting is perhaps one of the most dangerous forms of envy and Neptune seems the perfect victim to a covetous green eyed beast.

Why is this?

Neptune’s energy to its core can be compared to the archetype of Persephone, in my opinion. The paramour to Persephone is Hades.

Hades, God of the Underworld rules Pluto.

Per the mythology, he falls deeply and insatiably in love with the young Persephone. She is pure, loving, and adored. He is the broken protector and she is the healer.

He is scorpio and She is pisces!

Side note: Any couples with significant pisces and scorpio placements… I know you feel this. The PASSION!

However, as it pertains to envy... Pluto rules over these obsessive and destructive energies. Others possessing bad aspected Pluto or Mars… even Mercury *cough* Gemini’s… can be really put off by the grace of an ANGEL.

The obsessive digging of a Plutonian, aggressive courting of a Martian, or excessive gossiping of a Mercurial is inevitable as they try to define you or figure you out.

But, you are an enigma! A changeling, always shifting shape…

At first, they will adore you. This adoration will lead to coveting as they try to possess what you have or even worse, YOU. They can become fiendishly obsessed.

This healer dynamic can also get a bit toxic within a relationship if badly aspected or if the broken person does not wish to grow.

protect yourselves, queens!

NEPTUNE’S 🔵 ✨GIFTS

While the energy can come with baggage, ultimately your energy manifests several beautiful gifts. The first and most obvious gift is YOUR BEAUTY!!

You’re the type of person people just stare at… simply in awe of such a uniquely beautiful and out of this world face.

Neptune in the 1st house is a well-known models placement. A gorgeous innocent with a siren-like gaze. Everyone wants to possess you! Some even want to BE YOU.

Immediately what comes to mind is Ms. Marilyn Monroe (Pluto 12th house). So many have idolized and mimicked her energy because she was sexually attractive, but she was most likely even more intoxicating in her private spaces where she felt comfortable.

Nobody oozes sex appeal like the siren, Rihanna. (Pisces Sun) Countless celebrities have mentioned how entranced they were by simply her presence. This is not a beauty that has to be symmetrical like Venus, but ever-changing. You’re everybody’s cup of tea. You have OPTIONS! Some women really just got it like that.

🐚 However.. as I mentioned, people adore your innocent energy and some will expect you to be vapid. They will expect you to be a push-over with a pretty face.

On the contrary, Neptune (and Big Daddy Jupiter for those with pisces placements) blesses you with a vast knowledge, which surprises those who underestimated you… enticing them even more!

🐚 But, My dear Angels… Do you truly KNOW how special you are?

Do you know that your very being consists of magic and Angelic healing energy? The 12th house and Piscean influences are not of this earth, but of the metaphysical. This means that your energy is literally unexplainable to the 3D. It is literally magic connected to spirit!

This energy gifts you with a mermaid’s heart… bigger than your body. The gravitational pull of your heart’s energy is so powerful. Within you is an infinite amount of love for literally all beings. (No joke, it’s giving animals are attracted to you and babies love you vibes. Disney princess vibes! PURR.) Esp, Pisces Venus

However, this includes those who hurt you. (Because your heart is just so pure, it empathically understands why they did what they did and you actually sympathize with your attacker!)

STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY. It is totally stopping your evolution and glow up.

🧿Please protect your angelic energy.

Please take the time to fully isolate and recharge that energy. That is a luxury you MUST afford yourself to maintain or achieve optimum health and vitality. Neptune is the higher octave of Venus, a planet that thrives in self indulgence through the means of the human senses. Pamper yourself. 💅🏾

Think of yourself as a rare silk. You wouldn’t let just anyone trample all over your exquisite fabrics with dirty shoes, hands, or their outside clothing.

The same goes for you, your aura, and your PRESENCE! 🪽

The mere presence of your energy is like fresh Filet Mignon to those starving of true self love.

🐚 An undeserving or broken soul will seek you out like a wayward sailor in a dark storm… hearing your siren song.

You MUST be handled delicately.

Thank you for reading. Wishing you blessings! 🪽✨

PLUTO AVAILABLE ♏️✨ MERCURY AVAILABLE ♍️♓️✨ MARS AVAILABLE ♈️✨ Other planets coming soon.

@thesirenisles

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ludwig-van-gaythoven · 2 months

Text

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader)

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, implied ED

Parts

Part 1// Part2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

School trips were never really your thing. Sure it was good to be out of classes but to you it just seemed like an extension of school and honestly you’d rather be anywhere else.

One of the teachers thought it would be a bright idea to take you all out of school for a week to spend it in a forest ‘immersed in nature’. Possibly their tactic to get everyone to stop being at eachother a throats especially after the whole Cady incident a few months back.

It didn’t help that your best friends Janis and Damien both ended up getting sick at the last minute so couldn’t come with you , now you had to stay in your shared cabin alone. At least you didn’t have to room with a random person the whole trip, small mercies I guess.

The coach drive there was boring. You sat near the front, making sure to put your bag on the seat next to yours so nobody tried to sit with you. Of course Queen Regina and her minions took ownership of the back of the coach, that’s why you decided to sit upfront. Best to stay out of the firing line.

It’s not that you hated Regina, you understand why she’s the way she is. It’s a smart move to position yourself at the top of the food chain to avoid being mauled. Your tactic has always been to just steer clear of the food chain entirely which has worked so far.

The coach finally comes to a stop after a few hours and everyone shoves their way off and mills around in groups before a teacher starts to call out names and lodge numbers so people can go and unpack.

As soon as you turn the corner you hear Regina’s shriek of horror.

“Eww, what the fuck are these. I thought we were staying in chalets”

You roll you eyes. The cabins were clean, neat, maybe a little rustic. Of course Regina would still have to be dramatic about it.

“I’m sure forcing us to stay in one of these is some form of neglect.” She snarks at Mrs Norbury as she takes her hot pink suitcase over to her accommodation.

Luckily you get assigned one of the cabins at the edge of the forest, it’ll be quiet. Unfortunately it’s the next cabin over from the plastics. Not that they’ll even notice you there, I’m not sure any of them even know your name. It feels safe to be invisible, if not a bit lonely.

Once everyone is settled, a teacher comes round to each cabin explaining that tonight you can just get settled. No hiking or activities today, just a campfire and dinner later. That suits you perfectly. You sit on the creaky bed in your cabin, pull out your Switch console and start to get lost in a game. Hours pass before dinner call and you make your way, alone to the campfire.

You sit on your own, out of the way of all the different high school cliques. At this point you wish Janis and Damien were here. It feels vulnerable sitting alone.

To distract yourself you watch the other groups like a documentary maker. Noting the way they interact, the tension between them and the clique next to them. However nobody quite catches your eye like Regina.

She’s like a lioness. She has this invisible hold over everyone. They can all fuck about in their own groups but as soon as someone steps a foot out of place she roars and swishes her mane and everyone scampers back to obedience.

Currently she’s sitting at a bench with Gretchen and Karen, they’re talking enthusiastically about their plans for the trip; makeovers, cabin decoration, girly shit. Regina seems zoned out, she’s been pushing the same bit of food around her plate for a good 15 minutes. Every few minutes it’s like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, rearranging everything until teachers tell us to go back to our cabins and rest for the evening. You’re not sure you saw her eat a single thing, the food is probably not up to her standards.

Regina stands and suddenly seems snapped out of her trance, flashing a grin and summoning Karen and Gretchen back to the cabin with her.

You follow, a good distance behind. No point getting too close to danger, and slip back to your Cabin unnoticed.

There’s not much to do alone in a forest so you end up putting on a movie and start a new page in your sketchbook. Janis and Damien are the only ones to know you draw. That’s how you ended up speaking with Janis in the first place. If that news ever got back to Regina she’d probably have something to finally pick on you for, but so far you aren’t even on her radar.

You lose a lot of time sketching out some of the trees you can see out of the window, lots of tall, looming pines fill the page, you start to sketch a lion between the trees.

Eventually darkness creates a blanket around the forest. There’s a soft glow from many lamps outside of cabin doors, but past that, the forest seems endless in the dark. It’s 10:30pm. Teachers are fast asleep. Students definitely are not.

You hear snickering coming from the plastics cabin. Their lights are still on, not that you care at all.

Since all the teachers are asleep you decide that it’s probably safe to sneak out and have a cigarette. You stand down the side of the cabin so that your silhouette is obscured slightly by a bush and hunt through your pockets for a lighter. Finally you light the cigarette, trying to blow the smoke downwind, away from the teachers window.

“Karen! Fuck! Would you just stop puking, shut up!”

You watch from the shadow as Karen falls out of the door and begins to heave into the bush next to their window. Gretchen follows quickly, shaking Karen by the shoulders, desperately trying to get her to shut up so they don’t wake anyone. Regina steps out too, slightly loosing balance and nearly falling down the steps after them.

Clearly they’re all drunk. Someone must have snuck alcohol in.

Regina tries to keep a composed look but you see panic flash across her face briefly as her eyes scan around them, watching for any witnesses. You stay completely still against the cabin wall.

Karen finally stops for a second and they grab her by the arms to try and get her back inside. Their balance isn’t very good either and on the way in Regina’s foot connects briefly with a terracotta plant pot which wobbles for a second and then crashes to the ground, smashing over the front step. A sound that cuts through the night air.

The light to the teachers cabin flicks on.

You quickly drop the cigarette and stomp it out before silently scrambling back into your room, making sure the door closes soundlessly, watching intently through the window.

Mrs Norbury storms over to the plastics lodge, already suspecting they caused the noise.

You can’t make out exactly what’s being said. There’s a lot of shouting, from both parties. Then Mrs Norbury leaves, and the plastics light goes off too.

You quickly get into bed. It’s unlikely anyone will check in on you, but you decide it’s time to sleep anyway, it’s late, and drift off to the sound of the wind through trees. The wind sounds faintly like a roar.

In the morning you shower and begin to get changed when there’s a knock at your door.

“Regina will be rooming with you for the rest of the week, make sure she doesn’t try sneaking out.”

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #renee rapp #mean girls fanfic #regina george fanfic #lesbian Regina george

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flawseer · 8 months

Text

On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

#wings of fire #wof #dragon #flawseer talk #digital art #wof art #mudwing #wof headcanon

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tojivu · 1 year

Text

one bed + morning after ⋆ genshin men

an. clearijg up drafts (that i like), expect more soon

cw. genshin men & one bed trope, includes zhongli diluc childe thoma. f!reader implied. sfw.

playing. nothing revealed / everything denied by the 1975

DILUC’s face is almost as red as his hair. he hoped to get this trip over and done with; considering how the friend group had just dragged him on this adventure when he had better things to do. however, he found the silver lining he didn’t expect; you.

he had always found you attractive, sometimes stealing glances at you when you’re talking to his friends or secretly hoping you would ask him to hang out (without your annoying friends tagging along, as they had always done)—so when he finds out he’s stuck with you for the night, he has mixed feelings. he sticks himself to the wall, feeling too awkward to even sit down, and you’re combing your hair in the mirror.

“i’m gonna go to bed soon. you gonna stand there all night, luc?”

god, the way you said his name. “no, i’ll be on the couch.”

“don’t be silly.” you put the comb down and turn off the bathroom lights, then getting on the bed to make yourself comfortable. you pat the empty space next to you to signal that it’s okay, that he could sleep next to you if he wanted. “don’t be scared. it’s not that big of a deal.”

of course it wasn’t, to you.

diluc reluctantly gets on the bed, and he’s as stiff as a wood plank. you turn and look at him, on your side, and he fights his urge to look back at you; he knows he’ll just make a fool of himself. “goodnight, luc.”

you expected diluc to be sleeping, facing the ceiling—as if he didn’t move from the night before. but your eyes flutter open and you see diluc facing you, his face only inches away; sleeping peacefully. the sunlight is seeping in through the curtain gaps, and the air is cold.

diluc wakes and he doesn’t jump in surprise, instead he opens his eyes and stares lazily at you—as if you were a sight he saw every morning; natural, like you were meant to be there with him. his morning voice is rough as he speaks, “good morning, y/n.”

your heart is merciless that morning, diluc swore he could hear your heartbeat pounding.

CHILDE doesn’t realise how troublesome it is to have such a tiny bed to two people. he had always slept alone, in a queen, his sleeping positions almost always bizarre as he had space to spare. your friend group didn’t think to consider whether making him sleep in a small hotel room with only one bed would trouble him— but as soon as he was told that he was sharing a room with you, his face lit up. childe didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, though, but it would be a lie if he said he didn’t want to be stuck with you for a whole 8 hours.

“did you hear?” he leans against the counter at the reception desk, on one arm, looking at you with a smirk on his face. you’re guessing what it could be—what prank he’d be pulling on you this time.

“we’re sharing a room?” you guess, voice monotone and bored; it was 12 in the morning and all you wanted to do was sleep—entertaining childe’s nonsense was not going to be a part of your nightly routine. you expect a big “no!” from him, but he keeps quiet instead.

after a few seconds of awkward silence, he reaches for the keycard in your hand and grabs hold of it. “i guess i’ll unpack first, then.”

there wasn’t any point in fighting the receptionist for your own room, since she told you they were packed for the week and reservations had already been made.

you’re on the far end of the bed while childe is comfortable. the pillows smell like his shampoo. you can’t sleep, and he notices that. childe snickers at how you’re trying so hard not to fall off the bed.

“c’mere.” he offers, “there’s space.”

“there isn’t.”

“trust me, i don’t like this either.” what a liar, he thought to himself.

you reluctantly shift closer to him, yet thankful he offered—you were close to moving anyway. “this is so stupid.”

when you wake, you find yourself facing the wall—childe’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing against your back. he’s still asleep, his light snores being the only thing you can hear. you tell yourself this is not what you wished to wake up to, but the blush creeping up on your face says everything.

ZHONGLI finds it completely normal. he cannot take a hint. it was just a business trip, and he didn’t want you (his secretary) to sleep uncomfortably. you had much to do the morning after and a sore back would do you no good—he was just being a responsible boss. just that, nothing else. he doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks when he tells you to get in bed with him, and when he tells you goodnight when his face is only inches away from yours. it seems like you don’t notice how he gets a little nervous when you move closer—or accidentally brush your hands against his under the sheets, either.

zhongli takes off his slippers, then throwing the towel on his neck onto the chair next to the nightstand. you’re already in bed, laying down like a mummy—afraid to make a bad impression.

“busy day tomorrow.” he says. “goodnight, y/n.”

you muster the courage to say it back, but the heartbeat pulsing in your ears make it hard. “goodnight.”

“why are you laying down like that?” he suddenly says, just moments after you close your eyes. you jolt awake, surprised he would ask.

“i don’t want to make you uncomfortable, mr. zhongli–“

“don’t be ridiculous. come.” this is not normal. superiors are not supposed to be in the same bed as their secretaries. you’re not supposed to be in the same bed as your superior. nevertheless, he’s your boss. if he wants you to come closer, who are you to disobey?

you move closer to him, letting out a sigh of relief because theres much more space on his side of the bed. you hope it won’t be awkward at tomorrow morning’s meeting, and you hope no one catches you leaving his hotel room as soon as the sun rises.

your eyes open and the sun is rising. the sky is a pink-orange colour—the air is warm, but not too warm. you turn your gaze to your side and see zhongli, sleeping peacefully, and it hits you that you’ve never seen your boss like this. you’d just assumed that he never slept; such a workaholic he is. with his position, who has time to get shuteye?

you don’t realise he’s awake until he says something. you’ve been staring at him for a few minutes now.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer, miss y/n.”

you’re too tired to feel embarrassed, but the red on your cheeks show it anyway. “good morning, mr zhongli.”

“first time i’ve slept so soundly,” he smiles, “we should do this more often.”

zhongli was always blunt and straightforward, though it never bothered you. in fact, you admired that about him—something about the morning air and your boss waking up next to you stirs something in your chest.

THOMA was the shy classmate you always wanted to befriend. he was often seen reading books in the corner of the classroom, his head down and his eyes scanning pages. you were the popular kid, always being approached by those who are interested in you—but thoma was the only one who could catch your attention. you end up making friends with him, and spontaneously invite him on a trip outside the city. a small hostel was all you two could find, and even then, the prices were… outrageous.

“i could pay for two rooms, if you’re not comfortable.” you offered him, but knowing thoma, he’d probably decline and say—

“no, that’s a lot of money.” he shakes his head, “we came all this way. we still need money to head home.” of course, thoma was too sweet to make you do such a thing for him.

when you enter the room, you’re surprised to see only one bed. you’d just sleep on the floor, you thought—you dragged thoma out here, it would only be polite to do such a thing for him.

“so you wanna face the wall or..”

“what?”

“oh, you’re not sleeping on the floor, are you?” he questions, and you think he must be going crazy. what kind of guy asks a question like that? “we walked a lot today.”

your confidence is nowhere to be found now—with thoma, it’s hard for you to find the right words to say because you’re always so nervous; it’s a curse, especially during times like these. you decide to just suck it up for the night. thoma was a deep sleeper; and you knew this because of the train ride here—he was snoring so loud the whole cabin could hear him, and your pokes and shoves did nothing to wake him. it wouldn’t be much of an issue to sleep next to him, you hope.

it’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep next to thoma, his body warms the bed up and you find yourself inching closer to him as the hours pass—it’s comfortable, regrettably, but you can’t help yourself. it’s 4 in the morning when your head is buried into thoma’s shoulder, warmth encapsulating you; and the air is quiet until he speaks.

“it’s so cold tonight,” he’s complaining, though his tone sounds awfully happy, and you feel him hold your hand under the covers. “this hostel is so shitty.”

“isn’t it?” you’re smiling so hard you swear your cheeks are going to fall off. thank the stars it’s pitch dark in the room.

you wake hours later, thoma’s arm under your neck and holding you close. it’s no longer cold, you realise. you hear snoring in your right ear, and you’re once again thankful he can’t see your expression—a bright red.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months

Text

Nūmioītsos

19/12: Future & Face Sitting - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.5k~ | Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, oral (f receiving), prince regent aemond A/N: This is in the Pearl of The Realm Universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

It's something he'd dreamt of, but never really envisioned. Perhaps he'd never allowed himself to. With Aegon severely wounded by dragonfire, the conqueror's crown would no longer sit atop his head with ease, so now it sat on his.

It was lighter than he imagined it would be. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was not King. But it was the closest he'd ever be to it.

The aura was strange at the Dragonpit, very much akin to Aegon's in that sense.

He remembered standing beside Helena as she'd pressed her lips together and curtseyed before her brother-husband, who had become her king and made her his queen. Remembered how she had that distant, forlorn look in her pale violet eyes. Like she knew hardships were coming.

And as Aemond turned to his little pearl to see what expression she wore, he felt his heart ache for her like he had done for his sister.

She was visibly nervous. Clasping her hands at her front, and squeezing for dear life. Her eyes were trained on the space before her, away from anyone else's. He could not blame her. She married a second son. Who would inherit nothing but a name.

She never expected this responsibility, and in a way, above the power that the crown gave him, he felt awful that he could not give his wife, who deserved the world, the peaceful, calm life she always expected.

Not a word was spoken between them, until they reached their chambers, and the doors shut with a heavy thud, like he wanted to shut out that feeling.

“I am sorry…” she whispered suddenly, standing in the middle of the room.

He was transported in his memory back to their wedding night, when she'd apologised, for maybe not being as pretty as he wanted her to be.

She had come a long way, but she still always apologised too much.

He saw her throat bob before she continued, “I could not find the right moment to tell you…”

“What is it, my love”, he replied softly, moving a waved strand of hair from her face with all the sincerity of a husband so irrevocably in love.

Her eyes lifted to meet his gaze, leaning slightly into his hand before she took his one hand in her two small ones, leading it flat to her stomach.

And then he understands.

Her nerves. Her silence.

She was terrified.

And with child.

His face softened instantly despite the incessant weight of the conqueror’s crown on his temples, his violet eye searched her nervous face, as if trying to see what she was thinking.

“I am frightened, Aemond…” she uttered quietly, her cheeks pink and lips pressed together, trying outwardly to stop herself from falling apart and becoming hysterical.

His hand almost entirely covered her belly and he sighed as he rubbed it lovingly, his child inside her made him feel all hazy on love.

“Afraid of what, wife?”

She swallowed thickly before she raised her head, “Afraid of…what this all means for us now,” she replied, her eyebrows arched in worry, “for our child.”

He understood entirely what she meant. And he saw her eyes close contently as his palm rested against her cheek, brushing her hair away, “Oh, my little pearl. I will not let anything happen to you, or our babe.”

When their gazes met, she knew she had nothing but her belief in him. She had to believe him. Though her eyes were moist, with tears rimmed in them with fear of their future, she gave him a gentle smile, choosing to put her faith in her husband entirely.

“I will not have you go to sleep crying”, he whispered, softly running the backs of his fingers over her cheek, seeing her nod weakly.

“Unless you are crying my name”.

She gave a watery laugh, a pleasant smile stretching on her delicate features. And when she met eyes with him again, the smile faded into a blush, finding that her husband was in no mood for shallow promises as his hand drifted from her stomach to that sensitive spot between her legs, even above her thick skirts, she felt herself become warm.

“I-I thought…lords did not lay with their wives if they were…”

Aemond smirked, quite forgetting the crown placed atop his head when he leaned down to lay open-mouthed kisses to her neck, making her shiver.

“It is fortunate that I am no lord then, little pearl”.

His words made a warmth sink between her thighs, clutching onto his doublet tightly like he might disappear in a moment.

She sighed, eyes slipping shut as Aemond kissed and marked at her neck, not noticing that Aemond’s deft hands were undoing the laces of her dress and prying each section apart. It was only when his warm hands chased the curves of her hips and back that she lifted her eyes to him again.

“Aemond-”

“Hush - do you not wish to please your King?”

The words make her mouth go dry, a chill settling on the little baby hairs on her arms as he tugs the heavy dress off her, like he was desperate to see what was underneath. As if he had not seen her bare since the day they were wed.

He tugged her close to him as he sat on their bed, his face level with her breasts which he mouthed over lovingly, taking one of her nipples between his lips and suckling gently, both his hands tight on her hips.

“Aemond…”

He still loved that, the way she said his name so breathily and needy like that.

He fought the urge to grin, teasing the stiffened bud with his warm tongue before trailing it to the other.

“Hm - Oh, little pearl, I can hardly wait to see you fat with child - and these so full…”

She gasped in pleasure, a warm feeling sinking to the apex of her thighs.

And Aemond did grin widely when she squeaked with surprise as her husband laid back on the bed, pulling her on top of him, with her legs either side of his waist.

Being on top was not something she'd done before. And being entirely naked on top of her entirely clothed husband, makes her head spin dramatically.

“Aemond, I…I don't know-”

She shivered as his warm hands traced the outline of her body, “I have not seen that lost, blushing expression in so long, dear wife. Are you nervous?”

She nodded softly, her eyes looking away, wanting to cover herself but knowing that if she tried, it would only inspire him to tear her hands away from herself.

“My sweet, innocent wife…I only wish to taste you.”

Her eyes widen, “Aemond, I do not want to hurt y-”

“You will not hurt me. I want your cunt on my lips, now.”

She could feel her stomach flipping with nerves as Aemond guided her higher, her cheeks aflame with the idea that all this was arousing her in the most forbidden way.

“Relax..”

She could do about anything but relax as Aemond tugged her hips down, a high pitched moan slipping out when she felt his warm tongue part her slick folders and dive in, his moan vibrating through her core as he moved his lips with passion.

He hummed into her womanhood, his fingers sinking into her flesh to keep her flush down to his mouth as he feasted on her. He is sure he could spend forever between her plush thighs, almost forgetting the weight of the crown slipping from his moonlit head as he tasted his queen.

The crown almost slipped all the way off as he hand grasped his hair, her hips moving atop his tongue in micro-movements, “Gods - Aemond-”

With his one eye looking up at her body, he squeezed her thighs tighter, increasing his movements and shifting his tongue up to suckle at her bud, enjoying the way she moaned breathily and tipped her head back.

He happily sucked every bit of release that came from her as he felt her trembling atop him, her fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully as she rode out her high by fucking herself against his needy mouth, prolonging her sweet rapture by sliding his wet muscle through her quivering walls.

She jolted when he placed open-mouthed kisses to her sensitive cunt, his hands soothing where he'd been gripping at her.

Equally, she whined when he pulled his lips from her, looking down at him with flushed cheeks and dreamy, misty eyes. Her husband grinned up at her, as if in victory, the conqueror's crown laid upside down on the bed above his head from the effort of his lust.

She briefly worried she'd upset him by nudging the crown from his head.

And her heart thudded with excitement, as did his, when she leaned down, to place it back atop his head.

Aemond was sure, he had never been more hard in his life at that moment.

And he smirked with mischief as he leaned up, making her sit astride him, still trembling from her release, and unlaced his breeches.

It may take all night, but gods, he'd make her feel like a queen by the end of it.

Like his queen.

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year

Text

Honesty (Daemon Targaryen × Reader)

Summary: In which Prince Daemon seduces his unwilling Lady Wife.

Warnings: Smut. Dub Con/ Non Con. Oral sex (F receiving), P in V sex. Stark reader. Convenience Marriage. No use of Y/N.

A/N: First time writing for Daemon. Reader is the oldest sister of Cregan Stark and acts as his regent. Might write the full story one day. High valyrian from an online translator, not explaining it because I wanted the reader to not know the meaning.

The shift was white, silky, and oh so tiny. You stared at it with contempt. It had cost you a pretty penny, as had the cosmetics Lady Manderly had so eagerly pushed into your hands. Red tint, she had said, to paint your lips and enhance your natural attributes in other areas. The woman had even had the nerve to point at your breasts!

It was ridiculous, this whole thing. Had you been born a man, there would be no need for this nonsense. Had you not been born a Stark, it would still be happening, but perhaps in not such a brutal way. Or had you not been tempered by the cold, made so brazen to insult and oppose Otto Hightower, perhaps your punishment wouldn’t be marital rape.

Still. It was your duty, and you intended to perform it. It was the only way to keep Cregan, Rickon and Sara safe. And you would do it. Prince Daemon, your lord husband, as he insisted you called him, could surely get the deed done faster with the proper incentives.

You took off your gown, having been previously unlaced by your trusty maid. You put on the dreaded, lacy shift. The latest fashion in Dorne, you had been told. For how expensive it was, it certainly was made of little fabric. You glared at your reflection, watching how the long sleeves had a vertical cut that made them useless. Your skin broke out in goosebumps, as you wished you could add more wood to the fire.

Some rustling could be heard outside your room and you panicked. You were running out of time. The tint! Made of some berries, you hoped didn’t poison you. You quickly rubbed it on your lips and cheeks, trying to seem less like the terrified girl you were and more like an appealing sight. You sat down, primly, on the foot of the bed just in time for Daemon to enter the room.

“Wife.” He rumbled, coming to stand in front of you. Daemon had docked his furs and armor, his sword no longer rested at his side, just as your agreement dictated. He had come to you unarmed and barefooted, yet it didn’t make him cut a less intimidating figure in the least. His purple eyes looked at the tint with curiosity, and plucked it from your hands. “Getting ready for me? I’m touched.”

You glared at him, trying to hide how much nerves pooled in your stomach, how you were cold from fear, skin clammy and pale.

“If I must…” You shifted to your hands and knees, and lifted your shift, exposing your naked folds and arse. It was quite the vulnerable position, and heat started to spread almost immediately to your cheeks and neck. You hated the humiliation it brought you.

Daemon’s breath hitched. Clearly affected by the sight of your prone, soft body, on the bed. “What are you doing, zoklītsos?” His hand went to your exposed folds, finding you as dry as the sands of the dornish deserts. You nearly jolted at the touch, and only his hand on your hips kept you in place. It was not a good omen, you had gathered, from nights spent exploring your body before the cold and worries had turned you into the frigid ice queen the lords in the South accused you of being.

“Go ahead. Do it.” You closed your eyes, keeping them tightly shut, and braced yourself for the pain. Daemon tsked, his warm palm caressing your bottom.

“Hells, you have been deprived.” He pulled your shift down, covering you.

“I do not understand.” You frowned, looking at him over your shoulder, still on your hands and knees. “This is right, I know. I have seen animals do it.” Your tone was of absolute confidence, petulant, even. To you, it was one of the facts of life. The sky was blue, the sun rose in the west, and fucking was done on one’s hands and knees, with the man behind you. It cracked Daemon out. He snorted, hands still busy fixing your shift. It soon turned into a full-blown belly laugh, at your icy glare.

“Poor little wife, your previous lovers have done you wrong.” He palmed at your ass. You hated how the warmth of his palms made you shiver. Good gods, how was he so warm, barefoot as he was and in only a linen shirt? You wanted to kick at him, at the offense of your virtue, perhaps make an icy comment, but you were frozen in shame. “Unless…” Daemon’s hands moved to your stomach, urging you to get up on your knees. He pressed a kiss to your exposed nape when you did, as if rewarding you. Stubbornly, you tried to escape his grip, but he only hugged you tighter. “Oh, what a treat you are… The gift that keeps on giving, zoklītsos.”

“Shut up and get it over with.”

“Don’t be like that, little wife.” He kissed your jaw, tenderly, and when you moved your face away from him, Daemon adapted and started kissing a path down your exposed neck. “You wouldn’t like that, sweet innocent virgin you are. I would tear you apart, and that's no fun.”

“Oh, by the…” You muttered, exasperated. You tried telling yourself that the red of your cheeks was out of rage and not embarrassment. Used as you were at being the smartest one in the room, you deeply disliked how out of your depth you were here. It was not your fault, being uneducated on these matters. Orphaned when you were a lady just flowered, there had been no time for anything else but caring for your siblings. “Why must every woman you meet burn for you?”

“Because I am the blood of the dragon. Heat is in my veins.” He mouthed at your shoulder, this time. His kisses felt like a trail of fire down your body. It was… Waking feelings you didn’t wish to have. Nipples pebbling, hairs standing up, pleasant shivers and all. You breathed in and out, trying to control yourself. Daemon pushed the sleeve of your shift down. “My proper little wife. My ice queen. You will melt, in the end.” He kissed back up and towards your ear, whispering, cruelly. “They all do.”

Your breath hitched. A slip. The first of the night. You could feel Daemon’s smirk against your skin.

“Do you really want to find out how the fire in your veins meets the ice in mine?” You remarked, coldly. It was an attempt at projecting a bravery you did not feel. Bravado. Nothing more. And Daemon could tell.

“Fire can melt ice.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on your throat. With the way he held you, curling and uncurling around you, Daemon reminded you more of a snake than a dragon. You felt as if you were in the grip of a boa, constricting around you, robbing you from your air, leaving you breathless. It was wrong, being so excited at being the sole focus of such a predator. But heat was pooling between your legs, you were getting embarrassingly slick.

“Ice can put out a fire.” You warned, one of your hands going to his silver locks and tugging. You got exactly the opposite reaction of what you wanted. Daemon’s eyes closed, expression turning into a delightful mix of pleasure and pain.

“Only a fool would meet your ice head on.” He kissed your sternum. You remained as still as a sculpture. He tugged at the sleeves, until they gave. There went the dornish shift, ruined forever. You felt a distant rage at having wasted so much gold on it for him to rip it apart. Daemon drank the sight of your exposed chest eagerly, seemingly entranced. You tried covering yourself, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“I think not, Lady Wife.” Then, very tenderly, he pressed kisses to the top of your breasts. You whined, low in your throat. It felt good, and he had no right, no right at all, to get your body to betray you like this. “You see… A tiny flame, if constant, can begin…” Daemon kissed lower, encircling your areola, purple eyes gleaming with mischief. “To melt your ice.” And with that, he took your nipple into his mouth, making you let out a little scream. You squirmed, feeling more wetness gather between your thighs. If you wanted to keep your dignity, you had to get away from him. But Daemon’s grip wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried.

“No… I… Husband… Please. Please.” You begged, shame so deep you were nearly in tears. How it was that easy for him to take you apart, you didn’t know. Despite your pleas, his tongue circled your nipple, his lips making nearly a vacuum around it. His hand came up to pinch at your other nipple, warning. “I don’t want this, please. Just… Just…” But whatever you were saying got lost into your moans, until you were unable to know if you were asking him to stop the sweet torture or give you more of it.

When your tears started to fall in earnest, Daemon let go of your breast with a nearly obscene slurp.

“What is it, zoklītsos? You don’t want the attention of your Prince?” You nodded, and he gave you a mocking little coo. It almost made you think he would stop. Almost. If not for his hands, bunching up your shift until you were exposed once again. Under the candlelight, your cunt glistened with how much wetness you had produced. You tried to close your legs, but he kneeled, forcefully keeping them apart with his torso.

“No. I doubt that's the problem.” Daemon rubbed a finger against your entrance, not putting it in, but just pressing. “I think my little ice queen is melting. A big puddle, she is turning into.”

“You think…” You got cut off by a moan. Daemon had found your pearl, and it seemed he knew exactly what to do with it. “Yourself so smart. Smug…” He pushed a finger inside you, making you yelp, and effectively unable to finish your sentence.

“If you still have coherent thoughts…” He pulled away from you, taking his shirt off. Your eyes immediately were pulled, as if by magnet, to his chest. He had a warrior’s body, muscles all functional. Deliciously broad shoulders, toned stomach with the slightest hint of definition, yet still slender in the way most Targaryens were. Closer to gods, indeed. He bent down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, making you squirm.

“Lord Husband…” You warned, noticing how his kisses started to approach your privates.

“Lady Wife.” Daemon repeated, with a mocking tone. Then, he curiously pressed a finger against your button. This time, your hips bucked, and you were unable to quiet the moan that slipped from your parted lips. “Such a pretty cunt you have.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that, zoklītsos?” He spread you apart, as if opening up the petals of a flower, gentle but so casual. “If I wanted a quick fuck, I would have taken one of your servants, or found myself a whore.” Daemon leaned down and licked a strip over your cunt. In your haste to muffle a scream, you brought one of your hands to your mouth and bit down on your palm until you tasted blood. It was the oddest feeling, a line of scorching hot electricity on your exposed sex. “I intend to enjoy you. As often as I can. That’s why I accepted marrying you.”

“I don’t… I….” You muttered, but you weren’t really opposing him anymore. It was impossible to think about anything apart from what he was doing, of how his heat and wanton ways were starting to warm your blood too. Daemon kept licking at you, making your hips twitch. He was entirely ignoring your pleas, apparently finding great pleasure in the way he took you apart.

You felt like you were burning up, as if something that had been long asleep in you had started to be awakened. Long hidden and forgotten desires that were making themselves known. You found yourself looking down, mesmerized by the sight of the blond shock of hair between your parted thighs and how it bobbed up and down with each eager lick he took. Your hand reached down, tangling in Daemon’s hair, and it was then, you got pulled over the edge.

Daemon would later say it had been the way he had groaned against your pearl, what had made your thighs quiver and tummy tense, an impossible amount of wetness dripping down your thighs. You would say, if asked, it had been the way his purple eyes met yours, mouth still busy at devouring your cunt and face twisted into the most smug and deviant expression you had ever seen. Whatever it was, it pleased him greatly.

“I knew you had it in you. You weren’t cold.” Daemon whispered against your skin, kissing a path towards your mouth. He was unhurried, dedicating lavish kisses to your hipbone, moving to mouth along your belly button, gnawing hungrily at your ribs. Under him, your body went lax and pliant, spent with the first climax you had experienced under his careful touches. “You just needed a dragon to warm you up.” He licked at the sweat collecting in the hollow of your throat, before finally pressing a kiss to your lips.

This time, you answered. You took his lower lip between yours, playfully. You could taste and smell yourself on him, and it was more alluring than what you had ever thought.

“Good.” He said, pulling back. He started to undo his breeches, and you felt panic grip at you some more. This was it. You had to fulfill your end of the deal with him, let him take you. As if he could feel your nerves, Daemon rubbed your thigh, affectionate. “Do not fret, zoklītsos. You will enjoy this, too.”

“It is meant to hurt.” You answered him, pouting. He tapped at your lower lip, gently.

“Put that away, before I have to bite it.” Daemon took out his cock and rubbed it up and down your folds, gathering the wetness. Despite your fears, a wave of desire overtook you. His fingers had felt good, so had his tongue. You wondered if this, too, could be pleasurable. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many bastards being born in Westeros, right? But you were supposed to bleed. Bleeding was not pleasant, ever.

“I…” You grabbed at one of his hands, holding on for dear life. He may not have been your choice of husband, but he had vowed to protect you under his gods, standing in the sand and mixing your blood with him. Daemon took his valyrian vows seriously. You were desperate for any scraps of reassurance he was willing to give, even if in normal circumstances you would have rather died than be helped by him.

“It won’t hurt.” Daemon said, kissing your forehead. You looked up at him, eyes wide in fear. He squeezed your hand and lined himself up. You felt the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and wondered what it looked like. It felt blunt, and it was very warm. “I will do it on one thrust, like ripping a bandage off. You probably don’t have your maidenhead, with how fond you are of riding. And if you do, you are more than wet enough.”

“Lady Manderly said it hurt her, the first time.” You pouted again, and this time, he did good on his promise. He leaned down and kissed you, biting at your lower lip playfully.

“She has a fool for a husband.” Daemon muttered, kissing your ear. You shivered, nearly mewling. You weren’t aware of how sensitive you were there. “Trust me on this. I know more about it.”

“Taken many maidenheads?” You remarked, with a hint of a teasing smile on your lips.

“Jealous, ice queen?” Daemon licked a strip down the base of your neck towards your jaw. “You will have to admit you know little of the topic.”

“I would say I know plenty.” You answered, glowering, just as he thrust inside of you, seemingly tired of the conversation. At the sudden feeling of fullness, you yelped. But there was no pain, as he had promised. Only an odd feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim, and a slight discomfort. “Rude.”

Daemon smirked. He stayed still, letting you time to adjust. You took a deep breath, and shifted to rest your weight on your elbows, to take a curious look at where you were joined. To your disappointment, you could only see a cloud of light hair, mixing with yours, hips impossibly close.

“Did it hurt?” Daemon flicked at your pearl, absent-mindedly. He groaned when that made your walls tighten around him.

You glared.

“No.”

“You silly girl.” He laughed, starting to thrust. The friction felt good immediately, and you moaned, grabbing at his shoulders. “And you thought fucking could only be done on your hands and knees.”

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to cling to him, mouth falling open in moans you were unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Fucking is a pleasure.” Daemon insisted, pinching at one of your nipples, You whined. He could be telling you the secrets of the realm, and you wouldn’t care. “And I will teach you all about it.” He grunted in your ear.

You were too gone to care about his smugness. Your heels dug into his back, pulling him closer and closer. You met him thrust by thrust, scratching at his back until your nails were bloody. Daemon kissed you and tugged at your hair, desperate to claim you. You could hear his silent laughter, feel his mocking smile against your skin. He had finally gotten what he wanted, a reaction out of you. It could not be faked, this pure, raw emotion. Soon, his fingers found their way to your button, making you whine and squirm. It was too much for your poor, abused body. You screamed his name as you reached your second peak of the night.

Daemon thrust several more times, practically vibrating with smugness. He grabbed at your body, fingers digging in the flesh, surely bruising your hips. His mouth was slightly parted, and something stirred in you at seeing him so raw. Daemon had been right, you realized. Many moons before, he had said bodies spoke and were honest in ways their owners were not. And so, you let yours speak, tugging at his hair, sucking bruises in his pale neck. Perhaps there was something there, in the way he held you closer, shuddering and spilling himself with a muffled cry. Something that mere lust couldn't explain.

You both laid there, panting. Daemon looked down at you, and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I think, Lady Wife, that the coldness of the North might just be bearable.”

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