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lxvsiick · 10 hours

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CALLING ON MY ANGEL | PARK SUNGHOON X READER

PAIRING: troublemaker! park sunghoon x good girl! fem! reader

SUMMARY: She was a sweet angel in his world of darkness.

GENRE: imagine, grumpy x sunshine?

WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

A/N: honestly, i don't know what was going on in my head when i wrote this -- but chase atlantic and enhypen just go together so well ,, anyways this is a story/imagine inspired by the song ANGELS by Chase Atlantic! Enjoy!

It was late, and the streetlights flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the pavement as Y/n made her way home from her shift at the convenience store. Her steps were light, but exhaustion weighed her down. The night air was crisp, the silence only broken by the occasional car passing by.

As she turned the corner, a group of guys about her age noticed her. Their voices lowered to murmurs, and then, as if on cue, they called out to her.

"Hey, pretty lady, what’s the rush?" one of them asked, his tone slimy and casual.

Y/n tensed immediately, her heart racing as they approached her, their confidence unnerving. They surrounded her, blocking her path, their grins widening as they tried to engage her with flirty remarks that only made her skin crawl.

"Come on, stay and chat for a bit," another one urged, his voice dropping in what he likely thought was a charming way.

"I... I really need to go," she stammered, trying to sound firm but unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but the street was empty.

The guys chuckled, sensing her discomfort and ignoring her quiet rejection. One of them stepped even closer, his hand grazing her arm, making her shrink back in fear. Just as panic started to rise in her chest, a figure appeared on the sidewalk, heading in their direction.

Sunghoon walked toward them, his head down, the hood of his black hoodie pulled low over his face. Without slowing his pace, he bumped into one of the guys, shoulder to shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Hey, watch it!" the guy barked, turning aggressively. But when he saw Sunghoon’s face, he froze. The cut on his cheek was still fresh, and the bruise beneath his eye only added to the dark, dangerous aura he carried. His expression was cold, unreadable, and his reputation preceded him.

"Wait... that’s him," one of the other guys muttered in panic, recognition flashing across his face. Sunghoon and his group were well-known around campus—troublemakers you didn’t mess with unless you had a death wish.

The tension in the air shifted immediately. Without another word, the group of guys glanced at each other nervously and started to back off, retreating with hasty steps as they muttered excuses under their breath. They quickly disappeared down the street, their bravado shattered.

For a moment, Y/n stood frozen in place, her heart still pounding. Then, she let out a shaky breath, relief flooding her as she turned to face her unexpected savior.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet night.

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He merely continued walking, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his face obscured beneath the hood. But there was something about his presence that eased her fear. Without thinking, she began to follow him.

He didn’t look back, but after a few steps, his pace slowed, just enough for her to catch up. They walked side by side in silence, the tension of the moment gradually fading away. The comfort of his silent protection was enough to keep her calm as they walked through the empty streets, heading in the same direction.

Though no words were spoken, the quiet connection between them felt stronger than any conversation they could have had.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n strolled down the school hallway, a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. In each hand, she held a can of soda, one of them a free gift from the vending machine that had decided to be generous today. The students who passed by greeted her with warm smiles and waves, and she returned them just as brightly. Known for her kind heart and friendly demeanor, she was one of those people everyone gravitated toward.

As she approached the quieter end of the hall, where the lights dimmed slightly and fewer students wandered, a faint groan reached her ears. She slowed her pace, her smile fading as curiosity took over. Her eyes scanned the area, searching for the source of the sound.

Then she spotted him—Sunghoon, slumped against the wall, half-hidden in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His head rested back, eyes shut, a pained expression on his face. He looked like he had just come out of a brawl, the bruises on his face making it clear that he hadn’t come out unscathed.

Letting out a quiet gasp, she hurried over to him, crouching down beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, concern lacing her voice.

Sunghoon groaned again, wincing as he tried to shift slightly. “Go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice rough and tired.

Y/n didn’t budge. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she studied his battered face. Then, as if a lightbulb flicked on in her mind, an idea popped into her head. Without a word, she grabbed the extra can of soda from her hand and gently pressed it against his bruised cheek.

He winced at the cold metal against his skin, eyes flying open in surprise. “What the—” he started, only to stop short when he saw her sitting there, looking at him with that same concerned expression.

“Use it,” she said, offering him a small smile. “And you really should stop getting into so many fights.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. His usual tough exterior seemed to falter as he stared at her, completely caught off guard. She looked so calm, so kind, her face glowing in the soft light filtering into the hallway. In his dazed state, she looked almost angelic—like someone who didn’t belong in the world of trouble and chaos he often found himself in.

She seemed to notice him staring and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. Flustered, she quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. “Anyway, um, I’ve got to go,” she stammered, taking a step back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Before he could respond, she turned and hurried off down the hall, leaving him behind, still holding the can of soda against his cheek. He watched her retreating figure, the echo of her footsteps fading into the distance.

As he sat there, her words and that small act of kindness played over in his mind. A strange warmth filled his chest—a feeling he wasn’t used to.

For the first time in a while, Sunghoon wasn’t sure what to make of it.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n stood behind the counter of the convenience store, her fingers idly tapping against the scanner as the hum of fluorescent lights filled the quiet air. It was a slow night—until the bell above the door jingled, announcing a loud group entering the store. Her gaze lifted, recognizing Sunghoon and his six friends immediately. They were laughing and talking, their voices filling the otherwise calm atmosphere.

She couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of him. When his eyes finally met hers from across the store, she gave him a small, friendly wave. But instead of a smile in return, he only nodded coolly before turning his attention back to his friends.

She swallowed, her smile faltering as she watched him walk over to join his group, who were busy picking out snacks and drinks from the aisles. Despite the brief, almost indifferent interaction, she found herself glancing over at him every now and then, wondering what was going through his mind.

A few minutes later, his friends approached the register, arms full of snacks and drinks, still chattering away. She straightened up, putting on her professional face as they piled their items onto the counter.

“That’ll be $19,851 wons,” she said after scanning everything.

Jake shot her a mischievous grin. “Oh, don’t worry, Sunghoon is paying,” he said with a wink. Before she could react, the whole group hurried out of the store, leaving her standing there, blinking in surprise.

Moments later, Sunghoon appeared at the counter, his usual stoic expression in place. He handed her his card without a word.

Her hands felt a little shaky as she took it, swiping it through the machine. The silence between them felt heavy, almost awkward. She could feel her heart beating faster, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. As she handed his card back, Sunghoon spoke up, “So... when does your shift end?”

His question caught her off guard, and she almost fumbled with his card in surprise. “Uh, it ends later tonight,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she handed him back his card.

He nodded, the silence between them settling again as she finished ringing him up. When the receipt printed, he took it without a word and left, the bell above the door jingling once more as he disappeared into the night.

The rest of her shift passed uneventfully, but Sunghoon’s brief question kept playing over in her mind. She wasn’t sure why, but it left her feeling unsettled, a strange mix of anticipation and confusion curling in her chest.

As she finally closed up for the night, locking the door behind her, she stepped outside, breathing in the cool night air. But before she could take another step, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the wall near the store—Sunghoon.

Surprise flickered across her face. “You waited for me?” she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.

He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d walk you home,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, warmth spreading in her chest. “Thanks,” she murmured, falling into step beside him as they began the familiar walk home together. Neither of them spoke much, but the quiet between them felt comfortable, different from the silence at the store. This time, it wasn’t awkward—just... them.

And for the first time that night, she felt a strange sense of calm, knowing he was there.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Sunghoon walked through the crowded halls of the school, his usual scowl firmly in place. The sound of shuffling feet and murmured conversations surrounded him, but none of the students dared meet his gaze as they passed by. Some even went as far as to move out of his way, heads down, whispering under their breath like he was a storm to avoid.

He was used to it by now—being the "troublemaker" on campus had that effect. But today, the weight of the stares seemed heavier than usual.

As he reached the lockers near the entrance, his ears caught the sound of a hushed conversation nearby. The voices weren’t meant to be overheard, but they were just loud enough for him to pick up bits and pieces.

“...Have you heard? Y/n’s been hanging around with him.”

“I know, right? She’s way too nice for someone like him. He’s bad news...”

“She doesn’t deserve that. What if he rubs off on her?”

Sunghoon stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening as he listened. They didn’t even try to hide their judgment.

“She’s sweet. She shouldn’t be mixed up with a guy like him,” another voice chimed in.

His hand clenched into a fist by his side, but he resisted the urge to turn around and confront them. What would be the point? People had always made assumptions about him, and it seemed like no matter what he did, that wasn’t going to change. But now, it wasn’t just about him—it was about her. And that made something burn in his chest.

Letting out a huff of frustration, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, turning on his heel to walk out of the building. His footsteps echoed loudly against the floor as he pushed through the double doors, his mind racing with the words he had just overheard.

They think I’m bad for her? The thought gnawed at him. Part of him wanted to ignore it, brush it off like he always did. But this time was different. This time, it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Because, despite his reputation and the way others looked at him, he cared about Y/n. And the last thing he wanted was for her to be caught in the crossfire of people’s judgments because of him. He clenched his jaw, replaying the whispers in his mind.

They don’t know her. They don’t know me.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped outside, feeling the cool air hit his face. He pulled the hood of his black hoodie over his head, trying to shake off the frustration that clung to him. The more he thought about it, the more their words stung, even though he didn’t want them to.

His pace quickened as he made his way down the steps, his thoughts clouded with doubt. He didn’t want to drag her down, but he also didn’t want to push her away. After all, they had gotten close in the past few weeks. For the first time in a long while, he had someone who saw him as more than just his reputation. Someone who didn’t flinch when she saw him, who wasn’t afraid to be around him.

But if staying close to her meant she’d have to deal with all the rumors and whispers... what then?

With his hands still deep in his pockets, he walked out of the school and into the garden, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. All he knew was that the idea of losing her, even as just a friend, felt worse than anything those students could ever say.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n strolled through the school’s garden, enjoying the calm of the late afternoon. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on the path. As she rounded a corner, her eyes landed on a familiar figure standing by the old wooden bench. It was Sunghoon, and something about his posture caught her attention.

Her steps slowed as she approached, a frown forming on her face. The closer she got, the more she could see the new cuts and bruises marring his face. It was clear he had been in some sort of altercation recently, and the sight made her heart sink.

"Hey," she called out softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Are you okay?"

Sunghoon didn’t turn to face her, his shoulders tense. He muttered, "I’m fine. Just go away."

The dismissiveness in his tone stung. Y/n hesitated for a moment, her worry overriding her instinct to back off. She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "You don’t look fine. What happened?"

He turned his head slightly, just enough to show his irritation. "I said I’m fine. It’s nothing."

The Y/n’s concern deepened, her eyes softening with empathy. She reached out a tentative hand, but he shrugged it off, a frustrated edge to his movements.

"Stop asking," he snapped, his voice harsh. "I don’t need you to worry about me."

The words were like a slap in the face. Y/n felt a mix of confusion and hurt. Why was he pushing her away like this? She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her help, why he was so determined to shut her out.

"Please," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper now. "Let me help."

But he was already turning away, storming off down the path with a heavy, deliberate pace. The back of his hoodie was the only thing she could see as he walked away, the anger and frustration radiating from his form.

Y/n stood there, rooted to the spot. The tranquil garden seemed to mock her as she watched him go. The gentle rustling of leaves felt distant, and the beauty of the afternoon was lost on her. Her heart ached, both for him and for the rift that was growing between them.

She wanted to chase after him, to bridge the gap he was so determined to create, but something held her back. She felt helpless and confused, the worry for him battling with the sting of his rejection. All she could do was watch as he disappeared into the distance, leaving her standing there with a sinking feeling in her chest.

She sighed heavily, her emotions a tangled mess. As the garden’s serenity settled back around her, she finally turned and walked away, her steps slow and heavy, her mind racing with unanswered questions.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

The clock on Y/n's bedside table ticked softly as she lay sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of her bedside lamp, creating a cozy, almost ethereal atmosphere. Her thumb paused over the screen as a new message notification popped up.

Curious, she tapped on the message from Sunghoon:

"Can we meet at the park? I need to talk to you."

She hesitated for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Despite the late hour, something about the message made her heart race. Quickly, she threw on a white cardigan over her pajamas, the light fabric falling gracefully as she shrugged it on. Taking a deep breath, she headed out into the cool night air.

The park was a short walk away, and the streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. As she arrived, the park’s lone streetlamp cast a warm, golden glow over the pathway. Her eyes searched the area until they landed on Sunghoon, who was standing by the old wooden bench. The lamp illuminated his face, and he looked up as she approached.

The sight of her, framed by the soft light of the streetlamp, took his breath away. The white cardigan contrasted with her long, dark hair, giving her an almost angelic appearance. His heart ached as he saw her—beautiful, serene, and entirely too good for the mess he felt he had become.

When she reached him, he didn't say a word. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight hug. The embrace was warm and comforting, and Y/n hesitated only for a moment before wrapping her arms around him in return.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "Why did you want to see me?"

Sunghoon buried his face in her hair, his voice barely audible as he mumbled, "I just... I needed to see you. I’m sorry for how I acted the other day. I was wrong to push you away."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache. She could feel the tension in his body, the regret in his touch. She held him a little tighter, her own feelings swirling—relief, concern, and an overwhelming sense of compassion.

"Why didn't you just tell me what was going on?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He sighed, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. The shadows of the night danced across his face, but the vulnerability in his gaze was unmistakable. "I didn’t want to drag you into my problems. I thought it would be better if I handled it alone."

Y/n shook her head, her eyes filled with empathy. "You don’t have to go through things alone. I’m here for you, no matter what."

A faint smile touched his lips, a glimmer of hope breaking through his troubled expression. "I know now. I should have known better."

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and emotions. The cool night air seemed to hold its breath as they embraced again, the world outside fading away.

"Thank you for coming," he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur.

She smiled up at him, her heart lighter despite the heavy conversation. "I’ll always come when you need me."

As they stood together under the streetlamp’s warm glow, it felt as though the night had woven a fragile thread of understanding and connection between them—one that would help mend the rift that had formed.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

MASTERLIST

#lxvsiick </3 #kpop #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enha #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon imagines

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niya-writesshit · 2 days

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art donaldson cowboy au where he works as a ranch hand for your dad.... and then he fucks u in ur daddy's grand farm mansion when he isn't home. hello im hard! ~ 🌸

cowboy!art donaldson x fem!reader

TW: use of y/n (1), smut MDNI - oral (f receiving), swearing, not proofread

word count: 2264 (THIS IS SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK)

¡! ❞ a/n: uh im bricked anon! also basically dodge mason and panic reference! and this is kinda shit im sowwy

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there was something about your pretty little accent that got art's damn mind spinning. clear, sort of clipped and lilting, the typa accent one could only get from living in the big old city of new york. you were his boss's daughter, which made it all the more sinful when he imagined that accent in... other (less proper) situations he shouldn't've been. unlike the other ranch-hands, he kept a polite distance. he didn't leer or ogle at you as you walked by — his momma taught him better than that — but he sure as hell wanted to as you bent down to pick up something from the front seat of your convertible. tiny little white skirt rising higher and higher and higher and higher and art was hooked. oh how he would love to ruin you, daddy's dear little girl visiting carp for the summer. oh how he would love to grab you by those meaty thighs, defile you 'till you were crying his name. oh how he would love.

he trudges through the mud up to the ranch house, all done for the day and ready to wash up in the worker's quarters in the back. his legs feel like lead after hours of wrangling the cattle and fixing fences in the blistering sun. the thin flannel he wore today clung to his skin, soaked through with sweat. before he even gets to look in mirror, he knows his face is all ruddy-like and burnt, even though his hat supposed to be protecting the damn sunburn that made his cheeks string.

he splashed cold water on his face. he grabbed an old rag to wipe his face, just about ready to head to the showers, when he heard it—that damn voice, right behind him.

he turned, and there you were. standing in the doorway, looking a little out of place in your crisp, white summer dress. your eyes scanned the tiny room like you weren’t sure if you should be there or not, and art figured you probably didn’t have much reason to be back here.

you gave a sheepish smile. "hi… i, uh, think i got a little lost. do you know where the main house is?"

he’d dreamed 'bout this moment before, though maybe not quite like this. you, standing there all pretty, looking gorgeous in your spotless attire, while he was still dripping in sweat and grime. the polite distance he’d vowed to keep suddenly felt a lot tougher to maintain now that you were looking at him, lips slightly parted as you waited for an answer.

he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to focus on your face. "main house is back that way," he drawled, pointing out the direction you missed. his voice came out rougher than he meant it to. "reckon you took a wrong turn."

you smiled wider, stepping a bit closer. damn near makes him swallow his own tongue. "thanks," you reply, your tone light, conversational. "still trying to figure out my way around."

art nodded, eyes flicking up to meet yours, though his heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. he shifted on his feet, gaze shifting from your eyes down to your lips down to your chest down to your thighs down to — back to your eyes.

"i can walk you back if you want," he offered, tipping his hat back slightly, trying to stay cool about it, but hell, you already had him wrapped around your finger and didn’t even know it.

you gave him a slow nod, tongue flitting out to lick at your lips. "i'd appreciate that, thank you."

as the two of you made your way back to the main house, art tried his best not to tip over sideways at the sheer thought of you being this close to him. he feels like a pathetic little dog, all worked up over you just walking in line with him, brushing your arm against his every once in awhile. he's so focused on keeping his cheeks from flushing that he doesn't hear you the first time.

"hello?"

art blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. "huh? oh, sorry, darlin' —didn’t catch that."

you tilted your head slightly, a playful smile on your lips as you repeated your question. "what's your name? i'm y/n."

"art," he cursed himself for his curt response, but you didn't seem to notice, bright smile still holding as you nodded.

"nice to meet you, art." your gaze held his with a sort of lingering intensity that unfortunately made art's pants tighten even further than before. "so, what do else do you do here in carp when you're not showing lost city people around?"

art shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. "dunno. i work, i guess."

you roll your eyes slightly and nudge at him with your elbow. "okay. what about for fun?"

art shifted awkwardly, feeling your elbow nudge him gently, sending a spark down his spine. he cleared his throat, "fun?" he repeated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "ain’t much time for that out here, if I’m bein’ honest. mostly work, and maybe a beer with the boys now and then."

you let out a soft laugh, the sound teasing him in all the right ways. "that’s all? no girls? no beautiful maiden waiting around for you to finish all this hard work?"

art swallowed hard. he glanced down at his boots for a second, trying to collect himself, then back at you. "no, ma’am. no one special like that," he muttered. "guess I ain’t much for courtin’ these days."

your lips curved into a lazy smirk. "hmm. that’s a shame. a guy like you? figured the girls would be lined up." your eyes glint with a darkness that art knew all too well. it was the same hungry look he felt in his own gaze, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded with desire.

art rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to flush under the heat of your stare. he bit at the inside of his cheek, his self-restraint fraying as he fought the urge to just jump at you right then and there.

as you neared the main house, art's mind shifted to your father. the last thing he wanted was for the boss to catch wind of any unprofessional behavior. with a deep breath, art managed a strained smile, trying to redirect the rising heat in his chest. "well, here we are. better get you inside before your dad starts wonderin' where you’ve been."

you glanced at him with a smirk, seemingly unfazed as you adjusted your skirt. "funny thing, art," you said, your voice low and sultry, "i think daddy's still out of town. he won't be back 'till tomorrow." you took a step closer, hands reaching out to dust off art's collar.

he swallows hard at the feeling of your finger brushing against his neck. "we got the place to ourselves then, huh?" art drawls, voice rough and husky with barely contained desire.

"looks like it." your arms wrapped around his neck, finger curling around a stray blond locked as you watched art's face contort. deciding, deciding, decided. his hands found your hips, and with a light tap to your thigh, you jumped into his arms, kissing him hard.

your lips were warm and soft, and they parted slightly as art slipped his tongue inside, his one hand scrabbling for the front door handle. it clicked open and he stumbled inside, heading straight for the living room. your fingertips brush softly against his back as he sits down on a couch, letting you straddle him at the hips. he's still sweaty, but you seem to like it, burrowing your head in his neck as he nips at yours, breathing in the sharp, musky smell of him.

the both of you pant heavily as you scrambled to take of his shirt, and then him your dress. art presses slobbery kisses down your chest and torso, salivating at the sight of your little blue panties, pressed down against his crotched. little sighs and moans left your lips as he trailed his fingers along with his mouth, to the very top of your underwear, kissing along the seam. before you can object, he's shifted you over and laid down. "hop on, darlin'," he mumbles, referring to his mouth as you pull off your panties with a crooked finger. hesitantly, you crawl up his chest. apparently not quick enough for art, he hooks an arm around your waist and places you on his face himself, moaning at the pure scent of you.

he starts by kissing the inside of your right thigh, then suckling the inside of your left. he revels in your scent for a few more seconds before burying his face inside you, lapping you up with long, thick licks against your folds. you squeal when you first feel his (clearly) expert tongue against you, flexing and swirling as he find your sweet spots immediately. it hasn't even been 5 seconds when he stops with a pop! - peeking out from under your thighs with a wild expression on his face. his hat is tipped over under him, the rim sticking out from behind his unruly blond locks. "you're hoverin'. " he was right, you were, too scared to put your full weight on this poor man you had met not half an hour ago. "sit on my face, baby, please," he practically whimpers.

and how could you say no? eyes wide, face slick with your juices, looking so goddamn angelic — you couldn't. and even though you were scared to crush him, craving the feeling of his tongue inside you again, you sit — nice and proper this time.

he starts up again with a kind of feverish intensity you could only expect from a starved man. you moan and whimper on his face, scratching against his scalp as you looked for something to grip onto. art groans in pleasure against your folds when you tug at his hair, his grip that of iron as he holds you down by the hips hard enough to bruise. his other hand is groping at your tits, pinching and swirling at the nipples as he watches you shake on his tongue.

his own dick is being completely ignored, even though it's brick-hard and leaking enough pre-cum you can see it through his pants. the only pleasure he needs is your sweet little whines and needy moans as he laps up your juices like your pussy is the holy grail. before you even know it, he's driven you through orgasm after orgasm, happily sucking away at your cunt as you squirm and scream on top of him. "ohmygod, art. oh my fucking god!" your yells are loud enough that your little boyfriends from new york could probably hear you.

and after he's been there for so long your head's rolling, and your clit is swollen and overstimulated, he's finally done, pulling back to rest his face on your thighs. his cheeks leave your own slick against your legs, nose shiny at the tip but with a big old stupid grin on his face. you're panting, pussy throbbing and puffy as you rake your fingers though his hair, looking down at him with your mouth agape. "holy shit, art."

his grin grows even wider as he watches you, fingers rubbing lazy circles on your hips as you struggle to compose yourself. "am i good?" he asks, already certain of the answer, but eager to boost his ego even more.

you nod, eyes dazed and glossy as you ran your hands over his cheeks. "so good, art. holy fucking hell." you could already hear him boasting to all the other ranch hands in his stupidly attractive little southern accent — i made that city girl cum 5 times on my tongue!

he nods slowly in response, pretty eyes looking up at you all proud. "that's what i like to hear, darlin'."

the next thing he heard made his heart sink all the way from where it was, up in the clouds all dazed, to his stomach. the front door click open, and the booming voice of your father, "baby, i'm home!"

you'd heard it before him, and you jumped off of his chest and pulled your dress back on before poor art even had time to register what was happening. you sat straight up next to him, looking perfect — albeit a little red, as your terrifyingly massive father stomped into the room. his expression changed from exhaustion to pure anger as he took in art, sprawled half-way up on the couch, shirt off and hair a mess. "what the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared from across the room.

"get out of my damn house!" your father bellowed. art scrambled off of the couch, grabbing his hat from under his head. clumsy and hurried as he fumbled with his shirt. you were too stunned to move, thighs still throbbing, as he sprinted out of the back door before your father could make it to him. the barrel of a man slammed the door behind him, making you wince.

as art scurried down the backyard and past the worker's quarters, shirt still off and hat placed haphazardly on his head, the first thoughts in his head was — 'i am so fucking sacked.' the next ones placed a lazy smile on his face. 'goddamn, that was worth it.'

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¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

¡! ❞ a/n: i believe this is the longest thing i've written on this blod everyone applaud!

#¡! ❞ niya replies !#¡! ❞ niya's writing #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art x reader #challengers smut #cowboy art donaldson #cowboy smut #art donaldson certified munch #dodge mason #dodge mason smut #challengers 2024 #art donaldson challengers

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idyllcy · 2 days

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you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #reader insert #resident evil #☾.fics #PLEASE IGORE THE FACT I SPELLED HIPAA WRONG OH MY GOD IM KILLING MYSELF #thisis how u tell im not in health btw

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violetlichen · 1 day

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nobody puts my bald baby in a corner

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen / Named Atreides wife A little nsfw but that's not the point. Domestic family life. They have five kids and Feyd desperately wants another. Wifey won't oblige. Don't pay attention to the other characters and Houses I included, I don't know anything about Dune and I just pulled from the fandom wiki or made them up. Their son is not the Kwisatz Haderach either!

It has been five years since Feyd-Rautha last saw his wife swell with his child.

It is entirely by her design, and certainly not for lack of trying. He ravages her senseless almost every night, but after five children, the ever infuriating Diana Atreides refuses to give him another. As a Bene Gesserit, it is within her power to do so; the witches are able to bend their own reproduction to their will, and Feyd-Rautha believes she likes his methods of convincing her too much to give him what he wants.

Tonight, he almost has her hooked. He kisses her knee and up her bare thigh, licking and sucking the plush skin there. She barely acknowledges him and lets him fondle her as he pleases, lost in her own thoughts.

“She’s too old for him. He’s just a boy.”

They are currently hosting several of the Great Houses. Earlier at dinner, he and Diana were approached by the Duke of Ginaz, who suggested they betroth his daughter to their oldest son, Aleksei. Diana had hidden her frown behind her glass of wine, but Feyd-Rautha had seen it and filed it away for later, thanking the Duke for his time.

He hums against her thigh, tongueing over the faint bruise he made. He can use this.

“He will be a man soon,” he reminds her. He pulls her leg over his shoulder as he shifts up the bed, now eye level with her weeping cunt. His mouth waters. “Even if we refuse this proposal, there will be others.”

He knows his wife wants to say more, but the words die in her throat when he shoves his nose against her, inhaling her scent and releasing a shaky breath. He pretends it is for her benefit, but really, this is all for him. With his fingers pulling apart the seam of her, his tongue lolls out, and Feyd-Rautha feasts.

When he has had his fill of her pleasure, he crawls up the length of her body. She pants underneath him, back arching and eyes squeezing shut like a satisfied cat, her neck exposed and vulnerable. He licks off the sweat there.

“It will not stop with Aleksei,” he says, leaning over her.

Diana scowls. She shoves him, but he does not yield. He grasps her hand, pulling it away from his chest and up to his mouth, where he kisses her fingers.

He knows he is being cruel, rubbing salt in her wound. Her children are growing. At twelve years old, Aleksei is admittedly still too young to seriously consider for marriage, but the coming years will go by in a blink. First it will be Aleksei, then Nikita shortly after, and then Maxim – although their youngest and most unstable son will be difficult to pawn off, Feyd-Rautha thinks.

His girls are another story. Sasha and Grisha were both gifted their mother’s beauty, but it is Grisha, their youngest, who takes after Feyd-Rautha the most. She is the only one of his children who did not inherit those dark Atreides curls. She is perfect; wholly Harkonnen, like her father. He knows he will feel how Diana does now when it is time for Grisha to leave his side.

It is why he fucks into his wife now, flexing his hips slowly and purposefully, so she feels every inch of his longing. He staves off the urge to empty himself inside of her prematurely, already aching to see her breasts swollen and leaking.

He stops, trying to catch his breath. He pulls back from Diana to thumb over her pearl, grinding his length into her. “Shall I leave you like this, wife?” he asks her.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her hips chasing his fingers.

“I can give you what you want,” he taunts. “I will pump you full of my children happily. What is one more?”

Diana does not answer, but he sees her breaking, just as he is. He holds her legs open, jutting into the apex of them, growling as he stares her down, willing her to change her mind. She hides her fears behind her pleasure, hides the tear sliding down her cheek by turning her face into the pillow, taking what he gives her.

What is one more child? Certainly not the solution to her problem. It is only a delay of the inevitable, that one day they will all grow up and no longer need her. Feyd-Rautha knows this. But he hopes to delay his wife’s suffering, just as he will delay her gratification if she does not give him what he wants.

When he pumps his load into her, he knows she is not satisfied. He breathes through his own satisfaction, nose flaring like a bull, but she does not complain like he expected her to. She does not roll him over to claim him, or bring her fingers to her cunt to finish what he started, his eyes on her hole, full of his spend.

Instead she buries her face in her hands. Feyd-Rautha leans his weight onto her and pulls her hands away, revealing her face to him. She blinks at him, her lashes wet and clumping together.

He knows what she is feeling. “I feel it, too,” he says. “Let me give you another, my darling.”

Diana nods and looks away, breathing out a held breath. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes soften fondly when they focus on him again. “Alright.”

They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Feyd-Rautha does not know if tonight will be the night, but he hopes. He hopes she sees it the way he does -- a continuation of their happiness, not the eventual ending of it. He kisses every part of Diana he can reach, and she cuddles into him, their limbs a tangled mess.

A little later into the night, a knock on the door breaks their comfortable silence. Feyd-Rautha grunts, already irritated, and removes himself from her, slipping on a robe and his pants.

When he opens the door, he finds a wide-eyed servant. “It is the children, Baron Harkonnen.”

Feyd-Rautha frowns and widens the door, panic souring him. “Where are they?”

“They are safe, Baron Harkonnen, but there has been a bit of trouble.”

Diana appears behind him, wrapping her robe around her waist. "What sort of trouble?" she asks, brow furrowed.

“It will be best if you follow me to the drawing room within the guest wing, Baroness.”

Diana whips past Feyd-Rautha and the servant, not waiting for either of them to lead her to the guest wing. Feyd-Rautha follows after her, and he knows to expect his boys. It is not the first time he was awoken by something they have done when they should have been sleeping, but it does concern him that they were found in the guest wing.

Although he is the youngest son, Maxim is the instigator of all things. Not as bright as the others, he is aggressive and impulsive, often letting his hands speak for him. He acts before he thinks, and it frustrates Diana greatly. Many nights Feyd-Rautha has been brought before Maxim in the kitchens, where he sticks his grubby hands into pies and picks at berries meant for the morning’s breakfast. The guards know not to let him out of his room at night without their explicit permission.

But as explosive as Maxim is, it is Aleksei who reminds Feyd-Rautha the most of his own brother, Beast Rabban. His oldest son is proud and quick to anger, easily riled by Maxim and his sisters who poke and prod at him in the ways only younger siblings can. Feyd-Rautha does his best to temper Aleksei, to show him the value in patience, in choosing his battles.

Nikita, self-sufficient boy that he is, waits until the battles are over and won to pick at what remains. He watches. Feyd-Rautha suspects Diana favors him over the others, though she will never admit it.

All of them dote on their sisters. Sasha has them carry her around on their backs, even when they are tired and sore and agitated from their training. They still treat Grisha like she is their baby, although she is almost six years old now and loathes the comparison.

Each of them, in their own ways, bring honor to their House. It is not something he had ever imagined for himself when thinking about his future. Feyd-Rautha is proud of his children, and he would not be disinclined to have another.

The chaos they find upon entering the drawing room is enough for him to change his mind.

The lord and lady from Zanbar, whose names Feyd-Rautha has forgotten, fawn over their young daughter, who sits upon an ottoman in front of the fireplace, her face red and streaked with tears. She cries as she pulls at what remains of her blonde hair. It has been crudely chopped off, the ends blunt and jagged like it had been sawed with a knife.

Their boys stand sullenly in front of the governess, disheveled in her bathrobe and still flustered from being awoken in the middle of the night to collect them. Aleksei folds his arms over his chest, his head full of curly dark hair held high. Next to him, Nikita remains calm in the face of their impending scolding. He very likely had done nothing wrong but bear witness to the antics of his rowdy brothers. Meanwhile, Maxim openly glares at the small weeping girl. She deserved what she got, and he is waiting for a reason to give her more to cry over.

“What happened?” Diana asks, dismayed.

“Your sons snuck into my daughter’s bedchamber and cut her hair off while she slept!” the lord’s wife snaps, borderline hysterical. “Where were her guards? How was this allowed to happen?”

She is reaching an unnatural decibel, but withers under the glare Feyd-Rautha shoots her. They were pulled from their bed for this? His darkening expression does not fully quell the lady's anger, and she gawks at her husband, willing him to say something.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," the lord offers unhelpfully, averting his timid gaze.

Diana stills, taking in the sight of the poor girl’s hacked hair. With a deep inhale, she turns to the boys, her hand finding her hip. “Explain yourselves.”

“She was mocking Grisha, mother,” Maxim says, scowling. “We heard her at dinner.”

Aleksei nods, more self-righteous and refined in his anger. “She laughed at Grisha and made her cry because she doesn’t have hair.” He sneers when the lord’s daughter wails a little louder at this, because she, too, does not have hair now. “She called her ugly.”

Diana looks heartbroken over this, but her Bene Gesserit training helps to quickly neutralize her face. She looks to Nikita. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told them not to.”

Feyd-Rautha believes him. Nikita is no less ruthless, but he is also a diplomat by nature, preferring more uninvolved methods of justice or revenge. This boldness is certainly the work of his brothers.

Feyd-Rautha cannot wait to reward them handsomely for it.

Diana believes Nikita as well, for she turns back to the other two. “Apologize to Lady Rosalind.”

“But mother, she–”

“Enough,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, growing tired of the spectacle. “Do as your mother says, so we may all retire to our beds.” He shoots another glare at the lord and lady, who bluster under his attention, too afraid of him to protest again.

Aleksei and Maxim step forward and bow to the young girl. “We’re sorry,” they echo, not meaning it at all.

Knowing that is the best she will get from them, Diana exhales deeply and dismisses them back to their rooms, escorted by their governess to make sure they get there and do not take any more detours. Nikita follows, ever their solemn shadow.

Diana kneels down beside Lady Rosalind. “Don’t fret. Hair grows back,” she soothes. The girl hiccups, and Diana gently brushes the hair out of her eyes before standing up to face her parents again. “I apologize on behalf of my sons. As you can see, they love their sister very much and do not take kindly to those who upset her.”

The lord and lady of Zanbar try to hide their grimaces. They know their indignancy is unfounded now that they know their daughter had started this. “Baroness, I must apologize–” the lord starts.

“That won’t be necessary,” Diana interrupts, putting a graceful hand up to stop him. “Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us. My husband and I will question our guards to understand how this was allowed to happen. Those responsible will be thoroughly punished.” She looks at Feyd-Rautha. “That includes our sons.”

This seems to satisfy the lord and lady enough to gather up their snot nosed daughter and leave, perhaps vowing to never step foot on Giedi Prime again. Feyd-Rautha will not miss them.

He and Diana walk back to their bedchamber in an agitated silence, until she breaks it.

“Still want another?” she asks him, deadpan.

“Not particularly. Would you still like me to thoroughly punish them?”

“Not particularly.”

Feyd-Rautha hums, and he reaches for her hand.

The next morning, Feyd-Rautha walks over to Grisha where she sits on the wide stone fence, her little legs dangling over the side. The boys train in the yard, and she watches with her dolls, acting out the sparring techniques she sees with them. He kisses her head, smooth like his. She ignores him, too caught up in supervising the training of her dolls.

Feyd-Rautha smiles. “Who is winning?” he asks.

One of the dolls headbutts the other. Their yarn-like hair swings around violently. It is hard to tell under the light of the black sun, but he thinks one of them is blonde. That one plops to the ground, landing in the sand.

Grisha raises the hand of the victorious doll the way she sees her father raise his in the arena. “This one,” she tells him.

“Well fought,” Feyd-Rautha says proudly. He bends down to pick up the doll and hands it to her. He watches her run her fingers through the doll’s hair, brushing the sand out of it with great care.

One day, his daughter will train alongside her brothers. She will have no need for hair then. It would just get in her way, and make her easier to grab by her opponents. She will see the use in this, and appreciate what makes her Harkonnen.

For now, Feyd-Rautha cups her head and kisses her again. He calls her his beautiful girl, and returns to the yard, picking up where he and the boys left off.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x oc #dune part 2 #mine #writing

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saphfix · 1 day

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THE ART OF WINNING

01. WINNER’S MENTALITY

“WHEN YOU HEAR THE PHRASE WINNER’S MENTALITY, WHAT IS THE FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND?”

“Uh…” Anastasia nervously laughs, her mind shooting to one specific moment in her life. “Pretty much being told at sixteen years old that I wasn’t good enough, and never would be good enough.”

The interviewer nods, signaling for Anastasia to continue on. She shifts uncomfortably before clearing her throat to continue.

“Getting invited to USA Basketball was my dream come true. For a young basketball player—even for older basketball players—it feels like a rite of passage, a message to yourself that you’ve made it.”

Anastasia fiddles with her hands, the memory flooding back to her. “And that was the case for me, except, it didn’t take very long at all for it to end up becoming my worst nightmare instead.”

MAY 25TH, 2017

OLYMPIC TRAINING CENTER

COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO

The first day jitters were not wearing off. All day long they’ve seemed to have only gotten worse. It amazed Anastasia how people could connect with one another so easily.

One person in specific, Paige Bueckers, had everyone’s attention. The girl was already a well-known name, and was as close as a 15 year old could be to a professional.

But what really intrigued Anastasia about her was her charisma. How she managed to form friendships with some of the other girls who were also trying out in just a span of hours.

It took Anastasia years to connect with her highschool teammates back home, and she still isn’t nearly as close to any of them as they are with each other.

She watched on alone in the corner of the cafeteria, sliding her food around her plate in circles. Paige on the other hand, somehow had a full table of girls surrounding her, every single one of them laughing and reacting to whatever show she was currently putting on.

It was never that easy for Anastasia, and she fears it never will be.

When practice resumed, she instantly felt much better. That’s the beauty of a basketball court, when you’re on it everyone is the same, at least to a certain extent. It’s safe to say there are levels to it all, just like everything else in this world. Some people turn into an entirely different person when they step onto the laminated wood, but Anastasia doesn’t have that switch. It’s the thing that sets her apart from everyone else.

She’s static, always the same.

After returning to the bench for a group rotation, Anastasia was quick to notice the body language of the girl seated next to her. As soon as she sat down, the girl slightly turned away, as if Anastasia disgusted her or something.

Anastasia ignored it, wondering if she was thinking too much of it. That is until she realizes the girl seemed to be itching to tell her something.

“Do you have something to say—”

Almost immediately the girl cuts her off. “You’re too tense.” She says.

“Too tense?” Anastasia responds, taken aback. She screws the lid to her water bottle closed before setting it down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The girl never once looks in Anastasia’s direction, her eyes glued to the court. “When you’re bringing the ball up, you’re too tense, that’s why your shots not falling. You’re also not releasing them quick enough given your power is unbalanced throughout your whole body.”

Anastasia stares in disbelief. Her audacity is mind blowing.

“It should be effortless, a more fluid motion.” She continues on. “You should use more of the strength in your legs because right now, you look like you have a stick up your ass.”

“Excuse me?” Anastasia finally asks. It was almost scary how she was saying all of this with a straight face. She really meant every word leaving her lips, leaving Anastasia feeling more insecure than ever.

The whistle blows, meaning the next group was being rotated in. The girl stands to her feet, finally looking in Anastasia’s direction. “Just watch.”

And though Anastasia is still fuming with all the words she was ready to say looming around her mind, she watches. She watches as the large 223 painted across the brunettes practice jersey fades further away onto the court.

As soon as she gets ahold of the ball, she handles it like it’s not even there in her hands. She’s careless, almost too careless. You can tell by her stance, her gait, that confidence radiates off of her when she’s on the court.

She has the switch.

It almost feels like a slap in the face when she effortlessly pulls left and chucks up a 3 pointer at least five feet behind the arc, leaving her defender diving in an attempt to block. However, she comes up short, leaving Anastasia to watch in both awe and despair as it rattles in. The whistle blows faster than ever before, leaving some of the girls on the court and even some of the coaches jaw dropped.

She just ended a play in seconds without the ball ever entering anyone else’s hands.

Later that night, Anastasia found herself FaceTiming her parents, telling them about what she had seen earlier today. I mean, it was unforgettable.

In all honesty, it made her a little scared. These girls were all so good. She was starting to feel like maybe she was in over her head. That maybe making the team was just an unachievable and unrealistic dream.

“Honey, if you didn’t deserve to be there, you wouldn’t be.” Her dad comforts, the empathetic smile evident on his face.

He was always so understanding, so supportive. A far different approach from her mother, who always manages to crash the moment.

“You can’t just always live in fear.” Her mom routinely chirps up. Right on time. She always has something to counter what her father says. "Comparison kills." Her mother adds on.

“I don’t—" Anastasia begins, but sighs. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she knew her mom was right. She wasn't going to admit it out loud though. "It’s not living in fear or comparison to acknowledge the fact that some of these girls are better than me."

“And who says they’re better?” Her mom asks.

Anastasia chews on the inside of her cheek, staying silent. She has a point.

Her dad sighs before deciding to weigh in again. “You made it to next round with the rest of them meaning you’re just as good as they are, don’t forget that.”

Anastasia nods, her mind going back to the memory of what happened earlier. The way the girl’s eyes locked onto hers as she walked off the court, leaving Anastasia unsure if she was taunting her, or simply making sure she saw what she wanted her to see.

“Well, we love you Stas, You should get some rest." Her dad says.

“Yeah, I probably should. Love you guys too.” She says before hanging up.

MAY 26TH, 2017

58. Out of the 133 girls here yesterday, 58 remain. More than half of them were cut, leaving Anastasia feeling a little better about being invited back for day two.

Caitlin. Caitlin Clark was her name. Anastasia had finally figured it out after hearing it what felt like a million times today.

They’d been playing 5x5 all morning long, having gone through at least hundreds of different group combinations. During their break, Coach had conjured up a list of 12 assigned groups, each having what she felt was the best fit for all position combinations together.

Paige was assigned the PG for group one, Caitlin for group two, Anastasia for group three, and so on and so forth. Given there were 58 of them, each team needing five players, they were just barely short.

“We’re two short.” Coach informs everyone. “Groups 11 and 12 both need a shooting guard, any volunteers want to make this decision easy on your poor coach here?”

At first, no one says anything, everyone looking around at one another. The bystander effect was in full action.

“Don’t all jump at the opportunity at once.” Coach mumbles jokingly.

Anastasia studies both groups left, wondering if she should do it. Her mom’s words began echoing around her head. You can’t just always live in fear.

“I’ll do it.” Caitlin volunteers. Everyone now looks at Caitlin, some whispering picking up around the room.

“Shooting guard.” Coach reiterates. Caitlin shrugs, her face stoic as if she doesn’t care one bit about the minor difference in position. “Well alright.” Coach says, impressed.

“I’ll do it too.” Paige and Anastasia say at the same time. Anastasia looks over at her before stepping forward further. “I’ll do it.” She says again.

Paige throws her hands up concedingly. “Ight, you got it.”

Coach claps, satisfied at the resolved issue. “Perfect. Groups one and two are going first. Winners and losers bracket, you all should know the ropes.”

The groups dismantle, groups one and two staying on the court, the rest heading to the bleachers. Anastasia begins on her way after everyone else, before she notices footsteps following behind her.

“Why did you do that?” Caitlin asks.

“Why did I do what?” Anastasia asks continuing to walk towards the bleachers.

Caitlin grabs onto her arm, pulling her to face her. “Why did you volunteer?”

Anastasia looks down at Caitlin’s hand before snatching her arm away. “Someone had to.”

“Paige tried, you should’ve let her.”

“And why’s that?” Anastasia asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but just stay out of my way.” Caitlin threatens.

“Or what?” Anastasia asks without hesitation. Caitlin almost looks taken aback by the response. Almost. “Or what?” Anastasia repeats.

“Caitlin, come on!” Coach calls from the court.

Caitlin stares her down, before slowly turning away, lightly jogging back to the court.

What the fuck was her problem?

Anastasia finds a lone seat on the bleachers, making it her own personal mission to study every inch of Caitlin’s gameplay possible. More specifically, what she was best at, and what she was worst at.

It didn't take much time for Anastasia to pinpoint her fatal flaw. Defense. The girl couldn't play defense if her life depended on it. Actually, it wasn't that she couldn't, it was like she just didn't want to. She looked miserable whenever she didn't have the ball and it showed. Bingo.

Anastasia notes that to herself, while also making sure to study her shooting and passing patterns, which seems to be her strong suit. She will make sure she goes against Caitlin in the final match, whether it be in the winners bracket or the losers bracket. Hell, maybe even both.

Caitlin's group manages the win over Paige's group thanks to some lucky out of this world pass Caitlin managed to just barely get inside to her post player.

"Alright groups three and four next!" Coach yells out from the whiteboard while writing group one into the losers bracket and group two into the winners.

Anastasia stands up, walking her way down the bleachers. She comes into earshot of Caitlin and Paige's conversation as she walks by.

"Damn." Paige curses once they're off the court, Caitlin giving her a gentle pat to the shoulder.

"Better luck next time." Caitlin laughs. "I bet you'll kill 'em over in the losers bracket though."

Anastasia wonders what magic Paige is really working with to get into Caitlin's good graces.

Maybe Anastasia was the problem.

Anastasia meets up with her group, and they quickly go over a few potential game plans. She can still hear Caitlin and Paige's conversation continuing on behind her, their laughter and banter a little more distracting than she'd wish it to be.

Once her team decides that they've got down few good plays, they head towards the court.

"Hey, you!" Paige calls out. Anastasia contemplates turning around but doesn't, figuring there's no chance she was talking to her. "Number 120!" Paige yells out again, Anastasia freezing in her tracks. She double checks her jersey number before slowly turning around.

"You better win so you can avenge me." Paige smiles.

Caitlin shoves Paige halfheartedly, letting out a laugh. She doesn't say it very loud, but Anastasia is fairly good at reading lips, and she swears Caitlin says, "No chance."

"I got you." Anastasia yells back to Paige, Caitlin's smile immediately wiping off her face.

She was going to destroy Caitlin Clark.

“HUMILITY, CAITLIN, IT’S SOMETHING YOU FOUND HARD TO LEARN EARLY ON IN YOUR LIFE. WHAT IMPORTANCE DOES IT HOLD NOW, AND LOOKING BACK, DO YOU WISH YOU HAD MORE OF IT THEN?”

“I’ve always had humility.” Caitlin defends. “I was young, yeah. Naive, sure. A nuisance, possibly…but I was never not humble.”

“What about USA basketball, were you an asshole then?” The reporter asks.

Caitlin furrows her eyebrows, sitting up even straighter in her chair. “Asshole? What makes you ask that?”

“No reason at all, that’s just a very important staple to your story.” The reporter half lies. “Tell us about your experience there.”

“It was great.” Caitlin lies.

The reporter shakes her head, not satisfied with the answer. “The truth.”

Caitlin sighs. “It’s one of my most regretted experiences in my life, is that what you want to hear?”

MAY 26TH, 2017

Caitlin Clark felt murderous. Anastasia’s team had won, moving them further in the bracket as well. She couldn’t believe Anastasia thinks she can beat her. It was all Caitlin could think about as she watches Anastasia sit at the bottom of the bleachers all alone.

Why wasn’t she attempting to connect with anyone around her?

Paige smacks Caitlin’s shoulder. “Yo, stop staring.”

“I’m not staring.” Caitlin lies. She turns around to face Paige, who was sitting awfully close to another player, Azzi. “Do you think she’s good?” Caitlin asks.

“Well she’s here, isn’t she?” Azzi answers sarcastically.

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Come on, ask what you really wanna ask.” Paige says.

“What?” Caitlin asks.

“You wanna know if we think she’s better than you.” Paige laughs.

“No.” Caitlin scoffs. “I know she’s not better than me.”

“Geez, cocky much?” Azzi asks.

“Whatever.” Caitlin’s eyes find Anastasia again, who was now stretching her arms over her head. “Why do you think she’s not talking to anyone?”

“If you wanna talk to her just say that.” Paige teases, kneeing Caitlin in the back. “Want me to call her over?”

“No—”

“What’s her name?” Paige asks Azzi, ignoring Caitlin’s pleads.

“Stop don’t—” Caitlin interjects, just to be ignored again.

Azzi smirks before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Anastasia!”

Anastasia turns around and Caitlin glares at Azzi. “Why the fuck would you do that?” Caitlin asks.

Azzi waves her over and Anastasia stands, slowly making her way over. “Because now you can talk to her!” Azzi smiles.

“I hate you.” Caitlin mutters.

“I hate you more.” Azzi replies.

“Yes?” Anastasia questions slowly once she finally reaches the three of them, a confused looks on her face.

“Sit with us!” Azzi pats the spot in front of her with her foot.

Anastasia looks at the spot, then looks at Caitlin who’s in the spot right next to it. Caitlin avoids her gaze, looking back at the court.

“Okay, I guess.” Anastasia agrees, brushing past Caitlin.

“Where you from?” Paige asks, sitting up to start the conversation.

“Michigan.”

“Oh shit no way!” Paige gawks. “Michigan is sick.”

“Have you ever even been to Michigan?” Azzi laughs.

“Man!” Paige sucks her teeth. “Now you know I live right next door to Michigan, of course I’ve been!”

“What about you guys?” Anastasia asks.

“Virginia.” Azzi answers.

“Minnesota.” Paige says with a fake midwestern accent.

Anastasia nods, letting out a small laugh. “Cool.” She glances over at Caitlin, who once again pretends she doesn’t notice. “What about you?”

“Iowa.” Caitlin deadpans.

“Iowa…that’s a first.” Anastasia says, getting a laugh out of Paige and Azzi.

“Yeah, I’m one of a kind.” Caitlin says.

“Cocky.” Azzi mutters under her breath.

“Corny.” Paige whispers at the same time. The whistle blows, and the four of them look back to the court simultaneously. “Damn group nine won?” Paige asks.

“That’s a shocker.” Azzi says.

“Not really.” Caitlin counters. “Great offense trumps anything.”

“Of course you think that.” Anastasia criticizes, standing to her feet.

“Damn Caitlin, you gon take that?” Paige instigates, receiving a smack to the shoulder from Azzi.

“Stop trying to start shit!”

Caitlin stands to her feet, sizing up Anastasia. “Nah, I’m not gonna take that, I’m just gonna let my work on the court do the talking.”

“Famous last words.” Anastasia says, pushing past Caitlin. “You’ve never come across good D like this.”

“Yo pause!” Paige laughs, receiving another smack from Azzi.

“Stop being a freak!”

“If you think you’re taking both of your teams past quarterfinals, you’re delusional.” Caitlin says from behind Anastasia.

“Do you always speak before you think?” Anastasia asks continuing on her way down the bleachers.

“I speak and think at the same time, it’s called multitasking.”

“Right.” Anastasia laughs. Once she reaches the bottom of the bleachers she turns to face Caitlin, who was still coming down. She blocks her from exiting the last step, offering her a smile. “No matter what happens out there, I want you to remember that you’re a great player.”

“What is this, reverse psychology?” Caitlin laughs, attempting to get around Anastasia.

Anastasia steps infront of her again, keeping her position. “No, it’s good sportsmanship, ever heard of it?”

“Move.” Caitlin demands.

“Good luck out there.” Anastasia says, offering Caitlin a hand. Caitlin looks down at it before pushing past her, continuing onto the court. “Hey!” Anastasia shouts up to Paige who looks down. “This is for you.”

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark fic #caitlin clark fanfic #caitlin clark fanfiction #caitlin clark series #indiana fever #iowa wbb #saph fics

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beomiracles · 8 hours

Text

⌞ 𝐒𝟐 𝐄𝐏 𝟒 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ His fingers grasp your chin and reality slowly seeps back into your clouded mind. He was a complete stranger, you didn’t even know his name. It somehow excited you. It was the thrill your mundane life lacked, it was what your husband failed to provide you with. But this man, this stranger, he was ready to give you everything and more as his eyes hungirly roam your body, hands moving along your sides before sliding down your thighs to push your dress up. ⸝⸝

wc: 3.2k

pairings taehyun x fem!reader warnings infidelity, age-gap, strangers to ???, Taehyun is 22 & reader is referred to be around her mid-thirties, reader is slightly insecure, semi-public sex, unprotected + creampie, vaginal fingering, marking, kissing, hm hm hm let me know if I missed something !!

#serene speaks ✎... hii hii !! this is heavily inspired by one scene from the show 'Good Girls' eheh, because I'm rewatching it right now !! like I love Rio and Beth you don't get it. anyway, I'm not claiming this plot/idea as my own in any way shape or form, but you do not have to have seen the show to read this :3 this is horribly proofread on my part but my dear Izzy looked through it for me so fear not !!

The glass is cold beneath your fingers, the rim resting against your lips, waiting on you to take another sip. You do. The liquor burns your throat, it adds to the light buzz, the tingle of your body. — Chatter surrounds you, it’s everywhere but you can’t seem to pick up on it. The bar is beyond crowded, and so is your small table, placed in an ocean of others. Some guests are merely tipsy, others are on the verge of passing out.

Your gaze shifts to the man in front of you, your husband. He keeps on talking and talking, somehow overpowering the murmur around you. His monotone voice makes you tick, the small wedge between his bushy eyebrows, the insistent moving of his lips, the pools of nothing swirling behind his eyes. Not a single comprehensive thought roamed that brain of his.

You knew that he was cheating. You’d be a fool not to. The lipstick on his fingers, some smudging on the collar of his white shirt. His uneven hair and flushed cheeks, not to mention the constant talking, a distraction, as if he was still trying to cover for himself. — He must think you’re stupid. But you’re not. You’ve known for a while now. You just haven’t decided on how to pursue, decided on a suitable approach.

Divorce was always an option, but what about your kids? They love their daddy. — You take another sip, swishing the alcohol on your tongue before swallowing. Perhaps you’d guilt trip him... — “Babe, are you listening?” He still called you that, it was despicable, you weren’t in high school anymore. You blink, painting on a small smile, the same smile you’d been wearing for the past ten years.

“Sorry, you said something about your upcoming sales?”

His face lights up, like a kid on Christmas, eager to tell you about things he thought you had no clue of, things he didn’t think you’d understand. He belittled you, almost everyday, and you were sick of it. — He begins rambling once more, he’s bound to be occupied for another five minutes, so you let your eyes wander. They scan the crowded bar, people leaning over the countertop to get their order across.

Then suddenly, he leans back, easily parting himself from the rest, if only for a split second. The black shirt clung to his chest, sleeves rolled up to expose his near delectable forearms. He was young, at least ten years your junior. But he’d caught your eye the whole night. His gaze meets yours, dark eyes twinkling under the dim lights as he sends you a near unnoticeable smirk, just the faint tug of his lips, nothing else. His attention momentarily shifts over to your obnoxious man of a husband, but you don’t stray from him.

“..And so if we put the Honda for sale, I’m sure it’ll attract far more…Babe?” Your husband leans forward, blocking the view of the stranger before you. Internally groaning, your wide eyes quickly snap back to him, “sorry darling, my mind’s all over the place.” Your husband nods, and his hand reaches for yours, you notice that he isn’t wearing his wedding ring. “Should we go home?” He asks the question like any other in the world, but it lacks any kind of sincerity.

Brushing past him, your attention returns to the guy by the bar, he was talking to someone, but his eyes would shift to your table ever so often, an almost knowing look on his face. “Yes”, you bring the cold glass to your lips once more, downing the beverage in one go, “I’ll just go freshen up.”

Without waiting for a response, you rise, swinging your small bag over your shoulder as you push your chair in. Your husband looks confused, though he quickly nods, murmuring something about waiting out in the car. But you pay the man you’d devoted fifteen years of your life to, little mind, instead you head for the bathrooms with long and determined strides.

The room is small, cramped, and as the door shuts behind you with an awkward squeak, you lean onto the sink, gripping its edges tightly as you regard your reflection in the dirty mirror. With a shaky exhale you place your bag down on the cool surface, unzipping it as you reach for your lipstick, carefully reapplying the gloss across your lips. Resisting the urge to splash cold water all over your heated face, you run a hand through your hair.

You think about your husband, and for a moment guilt gnaws at the corners of your mind. But the longer you picture his face, the lies, the betrayal. — The better you feel about yourself.

You swallow, your throat suddenly feels dry, and a small bead of sweat forms on your forehead. Fingers drumming against the white porcelain, you count the seconds in your head, your mouth moving silently. — Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven..

Click.

The door glides open, and a tall shadow slinks inside. He closes the door behind him, hands digging into the pockets of his black jeans as he watches you expectantly. Through the reflection of the mirror, everything is okay, but as you turn around, coming face to face with him for the first time tonight, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Fuck, he was really young, 21? 22?

You bite the inside of your cheek, briefly hesitating. But he didn’t. He watches you with the same expression he had been all night, unmoving to the untrained eye, but you could clearly catch the glint in his gaze, the desire radiating off of him. You wouldn’t back down now. — So you take a step forward, one is enough to put you against him, chests brushing one another.

He doesn’t say anything when you reach a hand out, fingers clasping around the lock of the door behind him as you seal the two of you away from the rest of the world. — Your soft exhale fans across his face, the smirk on his lips spreading, exposing sharp teeth. Part of you wants to break the silence, another part of you wants it to go on forever.

You’re frozen, because in truth, you hadn’t planned for anything further than this. But he doesn’t seem to mind, an almost gentle look playing on his features as he draws closer, large hands finding their way to the back of your thighs as he runs them along your clothed skin. — Your dress is long, reaching all the way to your knees, certainly not what the twenty-something girls wore, but he didn’t seem to mind that either as he carefully bunches the fabric up.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, you don’t even realize how far you’ve gotten until your now exposed skin hits the cold porcelain and you emit a small gasp. The sound rings out in the silent room, echoing off its walls almost melodically. — He huffs, and in one swift move, he hikes you up onto the cool sink.

The determination of his movements make your panties dampen in a way they hadn’t for years. In all honesty you couldn’t even remember the last time you and your husband had sex, it might have been sometime before your youngest was born.. You tried to shake the uncomfortable thoughts away but it seemed impossible. Your hands roam his shoulders and the fine outline of his toned chest, he was everything your husband wasn’t.

And you…You were everything they weren’t, the twenty-something girls. Would he even like you? — Sure beauty was subjective but would he hesitate when he saw the stretch marks on your belly? The dip of your hips, the plush of your thighs, your body worn out after birthing four children. Would he be disgusted? Would he back out?

His fingers grasp your chin and reality slowly seeps back into your clouded mind. He was a complete stranger, you didn’t even know his name. It somehow excited you. It was the thrill your mundane life lacked, it was what your husband failed to provide you with. But this man, this stranger, he was ready to give you everything and more as his eyes hungirly roam your body, hands moving along your sides before sliding down your thighs to push your dress up.

You shiver. Whether that was from the fresh air hitting your now naked skin or the anticipation swirling in the pits of your stomach, you didn’t know. His gaze searches yours as his fingers brush the lining of your panties, as if looking for doubt, but he only finds lust, and he smirks. — Your husband rarely touches you, and especially not like this, not intimately. You often thought that you might have been the problem, but as the man before you leans in to press a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder, you find that it’s not.

A small part of you wants to ask his name, his age, anything, even the slightest bit of information about him. But the unknown felt good, ignorance really was bliss. It was better this way, you tell yourself. Less strings attached, and it wasn’t like you were ever going to see this man again. You were doing something for yourself, for you.

He dips a tentative hand beneath the soft cotton of your underwear, fingers experimentally swiping across your soaked cunt as he parts your folds. He has yet to pull away, to change his mind, and you internally sigh out in relief. — Your head falls forward, hands gripping his broad shoulders as you exhale against his neck.

You catch him softly humming and mere moments later, the pad of his thumb presses against your throbbing clit and a small moan rolls off your tongue. You could barely remember the last time you’d even touched yourself. With four children and a cheating husband who stayed out late, alone time was near sacred. You were pretty damn sure it showed.

The way he was touching you felt good, way too good, and you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around his arm. — Just as his lips trace the shell of your ear does he push a finger deep into your core, drawing a breathless gasp from you as he curls said finger, almost immediately brushing past a part of you that had been kept stowed away for so long.

The buzzing sensation the alcohol had left you with was nothing compared to the fire currently taking to life within you. And all you could think was: why hadn’t you done this sooner? Why had you denied yourself of the pleasure your husband has so liberally been granting himself for the past year.

Your husband…

He was waiting for you in the car. Time was not on your side, and any other day, you would have been freaked out. Not today. Today your mind is set on one thing alone. — Feverish hands claw at his shirt as you urge him on, the second finger he’d added wasn’t enough, you needed more, and a lot of it. He complies almost immediately, a small grin splayed across his face as he yanks your panties down your legs. You wondered if he let the twenty-something girls boss him around like this too.

Your neck feels damp, covered in his wet kisses, rough enough to where they’d surely discolor your skin. The idea of your husband seeing it was thrilling. But before you get to ponder said scenario further, he’s got you on your feet once more, spinning your around to face the mirror. Immediately you shy away from your reflection in the glass. The thought of seeing yourself like this, bent over the sink of a public bathroom in a random bar like some cheap fuck.. The idea was far from enticing.

His hand is on your lower back as he guides you down, the other one trailing along your arm before reaching your neck. Fingers splayed across your throat, he encourages your head back up and your eyes flutter at the action. — And when they open, you find him already watching you through the reflection, lips pulled into the same smirk he’d been wearing the whole night.

Suddenly, it felt okay again.

The sound of his zipper being undone sends a small spark of excitement through your already anticipating body. — Leaning forward, he presses a warm kiss to your shoulder blade, firm chest meeting the slight arch of your back and the head of his cock nudges your nearly pleading cunt.

Your fingers grip the porcelain tight, knuckles fading to match its pale color, making the wedding ring on your hand a stark contrast. You exhale, gaze flickering up to meet his through the reflection. Dark hair falls down onto his forehead, shielding his face from view until he looks up. — With a soft grunt, the hand previously on your back now resting against the curve of your waist, he pushes himself inside with one swift thrust.

The feeling is familiar yet completely foreign and you gasp at the stretch, your cunt clenching around him almost immediately. He gives a small sigh, head falling to the crook of your neck once more as his hand travels from your throat and down your chest, getting a handful of your tits as he squeezes them through the light blouse you wore.

He moves slowly at first, taking his time as he gauges your every reaction. From the twitch of your lips to the sickeningly sweet moans that he managed to draw. — But you both quickly realize that it’s far from enough. And it’s not long until his hips are snapping against yours with a force strong enough to make your eyes roll back.

To be touched like this. To be craved like this. It was like a part of you, once long forgotten, had been awakened all over again. Your life before your scumbag of a husband, your life before the lies, the cheating, the must’s and the do’s. — It was your life before soccer practice with the kids every tuesday, it was life before turning in at 10pm each night, it was life before slaving away in the kitchen as you scrambled to feed your family.

This. This was your life. Only you and this mere stranger, a mere stranger who made you feel like yourself again. — His cock buried deep within your throbbing cunt, twitching with your every persistent clench of arousal. Biting down on your bottom lip, you try to muffle the noises of pleasure waiting on your tongue, the thin walls of the small bathroom would surely give you away.

Your knees feel weak, legs wobbling with each thrust of his, and if it hadn't been for his arm snaked around your waist, you would’ve been on the floor moments ago. — Your eyes get caught on him, his large frame towering over you from behind, broad shoulders spreading out above yours; biceps flexing through the material of his dark shirt. His breath is hot against your neck, coming out in heavy pants and faint grunts as his lips nip at your sweaty skin.

You didn’t know his name. But he still made you feel things you hadn’t felt in forever. He made you feel sexy. Desirable. Like there was more to you than the sad house-wife who obliviously lets her husband cheat on her.

When you finish on his cock, it doesn’t feel at all like it had with your husband, with the man you had devoted your life to. No, it felt better. Like this was how it was supposed to have been all along. It feels euphoric, like you’re floating, nothing was real and nothing mattered. Then suddenly, you want to kiss him. — Craning your neck slightly, a trembling hand unlatching from the sink as your fingers entangle in his dark hair, you pull his face to meet yours.

Was this a bad idea? Was kissing taking it too far? Were you about to cross a boundary you couldn’t revert back from. It didn’t matter, you didn’t care, and neither did he.

His lips are soft as they move eagerly against your own. It’s not like the quick pecks you and your husband shares before he leaves for work, before he leaves for someone else. Your kisses with your husband are solemn, melancholy, and almost chore-like. This was anything but. It felt like your first kiss all over. Hot but tentative, clumsy but absolutely perfect.

He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating on your tongue and you resist a small moan. Then he tries to pull back, but you don’t want him to, he can’t. Your fingers in his hair keeps him close, and with a soft hum he complies. Hips jerking forward one last time before his warm release shot up into your spent cunt. It felt like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing. Perhaps that was why you did it.

You finally felt in control.

As he pulls out, tucking himself back into his dark jeans, you realize that you had yet to speak a word to each other. The silence had been a minimal obstacle just moments prior but now…You wonder if you should break it. But what would you say to him? “Thank you?” You almost scoffed.

His large hands on your legs startle you from your thoughts and it takes you a second to realize that he’s pulling your panties back on. The garment is beyond drenched as it sticks to you uncomfortably. — He’s close, so close that you can feel his warm breath caress your flushed cheeks. He exhales, eyes finding yours in the dim light of the small bathroom. Then he smiles, it’s not the previous smirk that had originally drawn you in, but a genuine smile.

“Taehyun.”

His voice is low, the name effortlessly rolling off his tongue and you blink dumbfoundedly at him before realizing that he’d just introduced himself. Feeling your face redden even further, you clear your throat before following his lead and doing the same. — Taehyun leads you out of the restrooms, ignoring the glances sent by the multiple people in line as his hand rests on your lower back.

The cold air causes goosebumps to ripple across your skin the moment you step out onto the parking lot. Taking a small step back, Taehyun’s eyes roam the multitude of cars lined up, you do the same, eventually finding the familiar one amongst the crowd. After glancing back and forth awkwardly, you finally bid farewell to him, barely managing to catch the subtle wink he shot you.

The car door slams shut and with a heavy sigh you slump against the leather seat, finally feeling the evening’s events catch up to you. — “What took you so long?” The annoyingly monotone voice of your husband rings out into the thick air and you’re thankful for the darkness of the night as you roll your eyes. “Long line”, you mumble.

Your husband hums as the engine comes to life. “And who was that?” He adds, sending a small nod in the direction of Taehyun’s figure, leaning against the brick wall of the bar as he takes slow drags from a cigarette. — You shrug, feigning ignorance as you rub your thighs together, the dampness between them an evident memory of what had taken place just minutes earlier.

“A friend of a friend”, you sigh, letting your gaze wander out the window as you pull out of the parking lot. “Yeah?” Your husband mutters, “what’s his name?” — You smile, shrugging the question off as you settle back into your seat.

“I haven't got a clue.”

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her-favorite · 4 hours

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NESSA BARRETT

NESSA BARRETT X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, softdom!nessa/sub!reader, fingering (in a car)

wc: 2,090

a/n: gif creds to sweetfridays !! - requested! so im not sure who’ll see this (since majority of my followers dont read my ness fics lol) but recently ive been thinking about deleting my acc (not confirmed yet obvi since im literally posting this LMAO) but i just wanted to give you guys a heads up! that’s it lol love youu <3

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET TONIGHTTT 🗣️🗣️

SYNOPSIS: You’re Nessa’s passenger princess..

Every time you got in your girlfriend’s car, she never let you drive.

At first, you had been confused - did she not like when you drove? Was there something you were doing wrong? But as time went by, you realized why: Nessa loved having you as her passenger princess.

So, here you were - as usual - in the passenger seat of her car.

It was a Friday night and you and Nessa had planned a date night earlier that week. Ultimately, she had surprised you by reserving a table at a new restaurant that had moved in a few streets over. Despite it being expensive - and you telling her numerous times to not spend such money on you - Nessa didn’t care as long as it was for you; everything was for you.

Lying around as you wait for your girlfriend to pull into your apartment’s parking lot, you let the sound of your tv invade the otherwise silent space. Scrolling through your phone, you impatient wait for a text from her telling you she was here.

As if she knew, your phone pinged.

From: ness 🤍

here ;)

Your lips curl up at the message. Liking it, you leave it as a reply before shutting your phone off and getting up from your couch. Turning off the television, you make your way out of your apartment and down to the parking garage, in search for the girl waiting for you.

Once you notice her car, a smile spreads on your lips as you see her inside. A small, red dress lays on her body, though you’re unable to see the full thing with her sitting in the driver’s side. Her black hair sits on her shoulders, some strands curling down past her collarbones. God, she was breathtaking.. and all she was doing was sitting there.

When you rounded the car, the movement caught Nessa’s attention. She looked up, her eyes lighting up as she saw you walk closer. Plump lips curled up as she watched you.

Curling your fingers around the handle of the car door, you swing it open before seating yourself inside. Once the door shuts behind you, you glance over at your girlfriend. With her phone now in her lap, her left hand rests on the bottom of the wheel as she looks at you.

“You look beautiful, princess.” Nessa hums, smirking as her light eyes look you over. You can’t help the way your body heats up at her words and intense gaze, shifting slightly in your seat.

“Thank you.” You mumble, meeting her eyes. “So do you.” You add, your smile matching hers as her grin grows wider. Nessa reaches her hand over to gently grab yours, bringing it up to her lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. Your face heats up the simple action before she squeezes it and lets it rest back in your lap.

The car rumbles to life as she turns it on, the radio blaring through the silence. Buckling yourself in, you relax back in the chair as Nessa pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Your attention gets pulled by the scenery flowing by, the slight crack of the window open letting the breeze pass by. With the sun setting, street lights illuminate the road, as well as from people’s houses.

Your breath hitches softly as soon as you feel a cold hand slither along your thigh. Glancing down, acrylics tease your skin as your heartbeat picks up slightly. Sparing a look at Nessa, you notice her still looking forward, but the small smirk on her face doesn’t conceal her true feelings. She was doing this on purpose - she was always one for teasing.

“Ness,” you mumble, leaning back in your seat again, trying not to let the butterflies in your stomach get to you. She hums, but doesn’t verbally reply. But as soon as she squeezes your thigh softly, your fingers twitch as they grip the seat underneath you. “Don’t tease.” You exhale shakily, jaw clenching as you swallow dryly.

Nessa lets out a soft chuckle, that sinful smile appearing on her red-kissed lips. She was so appealing - it was almost unhealthy for you. Not once do you go a day without thinking of her, in any sense of the word. Despite her being your girlfriend, the amount of times just the thought of her distracts you shouldn’t be allowed.

“M’not teasing, baby.” She says, purposely swirling her middle and ring finger on the inside of your thigh, underneath your skirt. Inhaling a deep breath, you lick your lips as you try to recover from her obvious teasing (even though she denies it).

Subconsciously you bite at your bottom lip, focused again on the trees and houses flying by as your girlfriend drove to the restaurant. Too distracted, you didn’t realize when a red light flashes and the car stops at it. Your eyes widen slightly as soon as fingers curl around your chin, turning your head to face the girl beside you. Nessa smiles at you, her lips closed as her thumb pulls at your bottom lip, freeing it from the rough clamp of your teeth on it.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” She coos, gently swiping over your lip, as if trying to soothe the soft pillow. Your eyes can’t stop themselves from darting to her lips before moving back up to her piercing eyes. As if in a trance, you nod at her words, complying. Nessa giggles quietly, the right side of her lips curling up as she hums. “Good girl.” Her thumb taps your lips before moving her hands back to the steering wheel as the light just so happens to turn green.

Her praise makes an involuntary shiver go through you as your thighs loosen. You hadn’t even realized you were clenching them together until she pulled away from you. You knew that Nessa was aware the effect she had on you, but you let her play her game (not that you had a say in it anyway).

The song on the radio changes as Nessa presses on the gas. Her hand gravitates back to your thigh as if on instinct. Though, this time, her fingers inch up closer to where you truly need them. Huffing in a breath at the sudden contact, your lips part once her thumb presses against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hand instinctively grips at her arm, breathing picking up as seconds go by.

Nessa chuckles, licking over her teeth. “You’re already so wet, Y/N.” She teases, gliding her middle finger along you through the fabric. You let out a quiet whine, your back arched against the seat as you impatiently wait for her to do more than just graze where you need her most. “So needy.” She hums mockingly.

Despite her taunting, she curls her manicured nail around your panties and hooks them to the side to give her better access. An involuntarily gasp leaves your lips as her finger gathers your wetness, turning your head to watch her. Nessa was still looking forward, focused on the road and other cars, though a part of you felt greedy for her attention - you needed it; craved it.

She’s so beautiful - even just from the side. Her lips pout out as she allows a car to turn out of the parking lot it resides in, her eyes hypnotizing as she stares forward, her nose poking forward, the sight only seeming to add to your lust in the moment. Her hair sits perfectly, silky strands along her shoulders as it blows slightly from the wind passing by.

“Please,” you whisper, rolling your hips up against her fingers. How she was so focused on the road all while touching you so intimately you’ll never know. Your eyes watch the way her plump lips turn up at your plead. Nessa glances over at you, her heart beating out of her chest as she takes in the look of you so needy, slouched back in the passenger seat, begging for her.

How could she say no to that?

Without a word, Nessa plunges her middle finger inside you. A sharp gasp leaves you, your nails digging into the soft skin of her wrist. She lets out another quiet chuckle before looking back at the road ahead of her. “Can you take another?” She mocks - you can, she knows that. With a fervent nod in response, Nessa forces her ring finger to join her middle inside you. A breathy moan emits from your throat as your eyes flutter shut, the curl of her fingers inside you hitting that perfect spot.

“Does that feel good, princess?” Princess - Nessa loved calling you that.. for obvious reasons. It always sent a wave of heat down your body, only adding to the need swarming inside you.

You nod instantly, your hair scratching against the back of the seat at the action. Pants leave your lips, a moan emitting from your mouth as you rut your hips in time with her fingers’ thrusts. Her thumb moves up, pressing teasing circles along your clit. The movement only adds to your pleasure as a throaty moan leaves you, your back arching against the seat. This was so wrong, doing this in her car while she drives - if anything, it was illegal. But, god, not one part of you cared in that moment, too high off of the feeling of her feverish fingers plunging inside you.

“Words, sweetheart.” Nessa hums, the gesture of her thumb adding pressure on your most sensitive spot. You stammer at first, licking your now dry lips as you take in a shaky breath.

“Yes.. s’good, Ness.” You huff out, blinking your eyes open as you look over at her. She has her bottom lip between her teeth as she spares a look to you, lust evident in her expression. Her thighs were tense beneath the steering wheel, a visible line showing off her clenched jaw. Fuck, the sight only got you off more - the pure desire on her face making another swarm of butterflies invade your stomach.

Without thinking too much about it, you lean over, connecting your lips with her neck. Despite being blinded by pleasure, you knew not to outright kiss her as she drove. Wet kisses are placed on her neck as you mouth at her skin, too lost in euphoria to properly pepper them along her. Moans mix into her skin as Nessa’s fingers only seem to quicken inside you, curling into that spot that makes your thighs shake.

“Close?” She coos. Nodding in response, a whimpered reply elicits from your lips. Nessa hums before the sound of the radio grows louder, her foot on the gas pedal pressing down harder. The adrenaline of the situation hits you all at once, that knot in your stomach tightening more and more as seconds went by. “Look at me when you cum for me.” She tells you.

Fuck yes.

With a shaky breath, your lips part as you lean your head back, watching her side profile. Your thighs quiver as the band inside you breaks, a harsh moan mixing with the music as you clamp tightly around her constant moving fingers. Nessa nods slowly as you reach the peak of euphoria, a glance of her green eyes looking you over as you come undone on her fingers.

“Good girl,” She draws out, helping you through your orgasm. With a heavy breath, you fall limp in the passenger seat, eyes shut. A whimper leaves you as she slowly, but gently, discards her fingers from you.

The car hits a bump as Nessa turns, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant she had reserved a table at. Still recovering from the pleasure, you don’t move, but your eyes flutter open. Licking your dry lips, you’re slowly regaining your even breathing as you glance over at your girlfriend beside you.

As Nessa parks, she turns her head to lock eyes with you as she brings her hand up to her lips. Enveloping the fingers that were previously inside you in her mouth makes your own lips part as your breathing immediately falls out of line again. Her blood red lips from the lipstick she added earlier curls up sinfully at your reaction, sucking on the evidence of your arousal before pulling them back out.

“Let’s go eat, princess. We’ll have dessert at my house.”

tags!: @tan1shere @loving1dsworld @strnilolover @luv-sturno @pr3ttyf4wn

#nessa barrett x fem!reader #nessa barrett x reader #nessa barrett x y/n #nessa barrett #nessa barrett smut #nessa barrett icons #nessa barrett fluff

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justmymindandstuff · 1 day

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Bounded by fire and love - Helaena Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen (18+MDNI; smut)

This is a sequel to bounded by fire and pain but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Aegon has tried to be a good brother. He knows he hasn't always been successful. Now the day he had feared has come, his wedding day. He must marry his sister and do his duty. Now he will drag her into his dark abyss with him. But Helaena surprises him with her desire and he manages to find comfort in her arms.

Warnings: age up characters, hurt/ comfort, self-hate, thinking about suicide (briefly), dark!, angst, family issues, Aegon is a product of family issues, Alicent is a bad mum but she tries, , drinking, sexual trauma, blood (briefly), marriage night, loss of virginity, insecure Helaena, incecure Aegon, sibling incest (obvious), p in v sex, oral (f), fingering, innocent/virging Helaena, innocence kink, pet names (?idn Aegon calls Helaena good girl once), smut, 18+, MDNI!

Words: 10.066

A/N: My Helaegon brainrot starts as a joke, but guys its not a joke anymore. I can´t stop thinking about them and the crumbs the show gives us doesn´t help.

English is not my first language// Gif not mine// AO3 // This turned out much darker than I originally intended.

I will write Dragons and Roses 03 over the next few days I promise (and there will be a part 04 bc I have no self control)

Since the fateful night at Driftmarkt, something has shifted in Aegon. Since that night, he is trying to do better. He tries to be a good brother.

He is no longer mean to Aemond and Heleana. Aegon even took Aemond to the brothel at his 13 nameday. Just like his father had done with him. Viserys had said that this is a Targaryen men tradition. Aemond was angry, but Aegon tried. He also has learned to listen to his sister. Her riddles still confuse him, but he knows that he can make her happy with a new insect, and he even tried to learn something about the little crawlers. But the book that the teacher had given him was so boring that he gave up after two chapters. He prefers to listen to Helaena as she explains why certain beetles cannot fly while others can. He tries to remember as much as possible. He is really trying.

But Aegon likes it best when all three fly on their dragons together. Sunfyre's back is his only source of happiness. Experiencing this happiness with his siblings gives Aegon strength. For hours the three dragons fly over the Crownlands.

However, there has been no time for that in the last weeks. The last few weeks have been filled with wedding preparations. Every day Aegon escapes from the Keep. He wants to avoid reality. He spends his days with Sunfyre, and every time he takes his golden dragon to the skies, he thinks for a moment about flying away. But Aegon comes back every afternoon. One bath and a cup of wine later, he has usually disappeared from the Keep again. He spends his nights with drinking, gambling and prostitutes.

But he cannot run away from reality. When his mother waits for him in his chambers three days before the wedding, holding his elaborate embroidered weddingshirt Aegon feels unwell.

"Mother I don't want to get married," he says but tries on his wedding outfit without complaining. The tailors bustle around him, and one accidentally pricks his skin with a needle. Aegon flinches but bites his lip to suppress a curse.

"It must be," Alicent replies, smoothing the embroidered fabric over her chest before taking a step back and looking at her eldest son. Aegon cannot read her facial expressions. He has never been good at that. How is he supposed to recognize emotions when he can't even sort out his own feelings?

"Why?" he asks defiantly. A thousand times he had asked this question and never received an answer. Now his mother sighs.

"Leave us alone." she commands and all the tailors, pages, and servants leave Aegon's chambers. The feeling of relief only lasts a moment.

His mother moves through his rooms as if they were her own. She goes to the table and first pours herself a cup of wine, and then Aegon. Aegon takes a few steps towards her, takes the cup, and waits so she finally answers his question. Aegon knows that Helaena did not ask for this wedding either. This is all his mothers doing.

"You want to protect your sister, right?"

"Of course." but why doesn't his mother understand that Helaena needs to be protected from him?

"Do you know who is her alternative?" she sounds exhausted.

Aegon didn't even know that there was an alternative. But everyone is better than him. Maybe he could arrange for that other man to marry Heleana in his place? He can smuggle her out of the Keep and bringt her to the man who she deserves. Bring her to a better man. He shakes his head and is already making plans on how he can get Heleana out of the Keep.

"Jacaerys Velaryon."

Aegon's plan is falling apart like a house of cards. He would never allow that his sister have to marry that bastard. All his defiance and anger towards his mother dissipate, and Aegon lets himself fall weakly into the next chair.

"Oh."

His mother doesn't punish him at all. She doesn't punish Helaena either. Alicent protects Helaena.

"Yes. Oh. And even if it weren't Jacaerys, it would be some other Lord who takes her away from us. Do you want that? Do you want to say goodbye to your sister?"

"No," he replies softly. His mother is right. He hadn't looked at it that way before. Aegon sighs and concedes defeat. "I will marry her," he whispers.

Alicent sighs, approaches him and sets down her untouched cup. Her hand caresses gently over his cheek. Her lips are twisted into a sad smile. "You don´t have a choice in this."

Her words should perhaps provide comfort, but they only drain all strength out of Aegon and ensure that he drowns himself even deeper in wine by evening. Only after he has vented all his frustration on one of the prostitutes and is back in his chambers he can cry. He lies on the softest bed linens in all of Westeros, surrounded by expensive food and fine wine, his clothes feel soft against his skin, made from the finest material, surrounded by jewelry and every luxury someone can imagine, yet he smells like a beggar, is as powerless as a small child, and feels as broken as a dead man. Aegon closes his eyes. He wishes he could just disappear, sinking into his mattress as if he had never existed. That would be better. Then all the suffering he has caused would not exist either. Helaena could then be free from him. Perhaps Mother would then marry her to Aemond instead of the Strongbastard.

Aemond. His little brother Aemond. Aegon opens his eyes again, tears streaming from them into the pillows. Aemond wouldn't make it without him. The stubborn, headstrong, disciplined Aemond. Aegon can hardly help but laugh at the thought. Aemond wouldn't know what fun is without him. He would throw himself into his training, obsessed with being a warrior and a scholar. An impossible task. Aegon knows that Aemond does all these things to distract from the fact that he is broken. Aemond is broken in a different way than Aegon. But still broken. He can't leave him alone. His little brother needs him.

Helaena is the only one among them who isn't broken. Helaena is perfect, pure, kind. Helaena is the only one who is good.

And in two days she would be his wife, and he would ruin her. Aegon just manages to turn to the side before he expels the contents of his stomach. It's almost all wine, his esophagus burns from the acidity, and the disgusting taste lingers in his mouth. Aegon would prefer to throw up again, but nothing comes out. He turns onto his back and just stares at the ceiling. When sleep comes Aegon is glad, and just before he loses consciousness he wishes for a second not to wake up again.

Aegon chambers are full of servants, pages, tailors, and maids. His brother Aemond sits in an armchair by the fire, looking around with a bored expresion. Aegon know it is his mask. Aemond is already wearing his festive attire, yet he still has steel at his belt around his waist. Aegon has already been bathed and smells of the oils and perfume in which his servants have soaked him in. He is rotting inside. The chaos around him causes a headache, and an uneasy feeling crawls through his stomach. His hands tremble and he longs for a cup of wine. Aegon focuses his gaze on his brother's drumming fingers. On the outside, Aemond appears calm, just like Aegon, but inside he is also tumultuous. Aegon tries not to pay attention to the fact that his chambers have already been rearranged and many of Helaena's belongings were brought in. From this evening on, these will no longer be his chambers but their shared ones, their marital chambers. One of the maids pulls at his hair as she clumsily tries to cut it. Aegon grimaces as his scalp tightens.

"Enough," he says, roughly pushing her away. "Get Helaena. Heleana always cuts my hair," he says. Quickly, the maid curtsies and runs out of the room.

"Our sister will surely prepare for the wedding herself." Aemonds voice comes from the fireplace.

"Probably and she will surely find it lovely when so many people are swirling around her and touching her," he replies grimly. A tailor's apprentice stumbles against a chair while turning, causing a pile of sewing materials to fall to the floor and the chair to scrape against the stone floor with a disgusting noise.

Aegon can't take it anymore and explodes.'"Everyone out of here! I don't want to see anyone anymore who isn't part of my family." he screams and jumps up from the chair. For a second, no one moves, and Aegon tries to calm his heartbeat with heavy breaths. Then the hustle begins again as everyone grabs their things and disappears from Aegon's chambers. Aegon takes two steps and reaches finally for his wine cup. In just a few sips, it's empty, and Aegon pours himself another right away.

"Mother says I should prevent you from drinking today."

"Try to stop me." they both know that Aemond could do that with ease. But hje just shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't worry, not today."

Aegon lowers the cup from his lips and looks at his brother. Aemond's expression is unmoving, but compassion is reflected in his eyes. Aegon does not want his pity, but the fact that it is there calms the fear in his gut just a little bit.

The doors are open again and Helaena steps in. She wears a simple dress made of green silk, yet her hair is already intricately braided and tied back, with a diadem perched on her head. The light catches in the green gemstones. Helaena glances around briefly and then smiles. Aegon is relieved that she is smiling.

"Jen said you want me to cut your hair," she says. Aegon fills his cup with wine once more and then returns to his chair.

"Yes, please." he says and drops himself onto the chair. Helaena takes the scissors and walks over to him.

"She says you were mean." cautiously as always, she begins to cut his hair. Aemond huffs from his spot by the fireplace, which makes Aegon roll his eyes. Helaena remains unruffled. As her hands gently glide over his scalp, Aegon briefly closes his eyes. He rarely allows Helaena to touch him, but in those moments, he wonders why. "Aegon?"

He flinches slightly but then responds. "They annoyed me."

"You should still be nice. They are here on Mother's orders."

"I really tried to stay calm."

"I know. It's all right."

He feels like a little child being scolded by his mother. Only that his mother never explained with gentle words what he had done wrong, she had just screams at him and slaps him. He now he deserves every hit from her.

Helaena sets the scissors aside and gently wipes the loose hairs from Aegon's shirt. His wedding outfit is still lying on the bed. Aegon cannot bear to look at it.

"Thank you," he says and stands up. He is glad that the only mirror he has in his chambers is turned around. He cannot bear to look at himself. "Would you like a cup of wine?" he asks. He knows that Helaena actually has to return to her own chambers.

She nods anyway, and they sit down with Aemond by the fireplace. Quickly Aegon pours wine for Helaena and hands her the cup. He made sure that he always has her favorite type of wine in his chambers. Aegon stares into the fire.

"You both look like you're going to your own funeral." Aemond suddenly says. Aegon and Helaena both look up and then at each other. They look that way because they both feel that way. But then Helaena straightens her shoulders.

"No. I'm doing well," she says then. Aegon doesn't believe her. He takes a sip of his wine to avoid saying anything but Helaena addresses him directly. "Aegon. I am truly doing well. And you?"

He sets down the cup and shrugs his shoulders. The nervous feeling in his stomach is getting worse again. Everything in him screams to run away. But he stays seated and instead starts to play with his fingers. Then he forces a smile onto his face.

"I'm doing well too," he says, managing even to look directly at Helaena. He doesn't know if her smile is genuine.

"Today is not our funeral. Not today. I haven't dreamed of today, and I only dream bad things," says Helaena, and her tone makes him perk up a bit, but the strange feeling disappears right away as he remembers his wine. But before he can take another sip, the doors to his chambers are flung open again. Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon sees Aemond's hand going straight for his sword, and he is ready to jump up but his tense posture disappears immediately when he recognizes their mother.

"I thought you were here, Helaena," Alicent says, sounding relieved. Ser Criston closes the door behind them. Then Alicent's gaze shifts from her daughter to Aegon and the cup of wine in his hand, she grimaces. "Aemond, I asked you to make sure he doesn't drink so much."

"That's his first cup, Mother," Aemond lies, and Aegon sends a silent thank you to the gods for his brother. "We thought we would drink to today's special occasion as siblings."

Alicent nods, "Fine." she agrees. "But Helaena mus get ready now."

Helaena sets down her cup and smiles at her brothers once more. "See you in the Sept." she says. Alicent steps forward and grabs the wine jug from the table before taking Helaena by the hand and leading her to the door. "See you in the Sept" Aegon whispers as Helaena walks past him. His mother stops once more.

"Ser Criston, please make sure that Aegon changes and accompany him to the sept, and remind him that Sunfyre is being guarded by additional guards today," she gives the order before leaving the chambers with Helaena. Aegon sighs, now he has a babysitter too. But at least it's Criston.

"Sit down." Aegon stands up and points to the spot that Helaena has just left. The sworn shield of his mother takes its place. Aegon walks through his chambers and retrieves a new jug of wine from the cupboard. As if he had no reserve. He filles Criston, his brother, and himself a cup and then sits back down in the chair. He would need one more cup of wine before he could put on his wedding attire and make his way to the sept.

Aegon first looks at his brother, then at Criston. He has known this man his whole life, as far back as Aegon can remember, Ser Criston has been his mother's sworn shield.

And as far back as he can remember, he has dutifully carried out her orders. So it is today. He makes sure that Aegon puts on his wedding attire and then takes away the wine so that he doesn't stain the light fabric. The ride in the carriage to the Sept is silent. Aemond rides alongside them on horse back.

Only after Aegon has walked down the long aisle of the great sept, nodded to a few of the Lords and Ladies, and stood next to the Septon at the front, does Ser Criston leave his side and take up his position. Aemond stays next to Aegon, he is glade about his presence. It grounds him. Let him feel less lonley. It takes a moment, but then his mother appears. She smiles when she sees him and nods, then she takes her place next to the king. The Sept becomes quiet. Aegon feels as if he is about to vomit.

Helaena enters the Sept next to her grandfather Otto Hightower. The King felt too weak to walk her down the aisle.

As Helaena steps through the large door, Aegon looks from his brother to the entrance. He has to swallow. Helaena had pinned a delicate veil over her hairstyle, the cream-colored lace cascading down her wedding dress and flowing to the floor. It has the same color as his outfit. They are perfectly matched, as if they belong together. And maybe they do that? Aegon never wanted to admit it, always forbidding himself from even thinking about it,but now he can't help but acknowledge it. Helaena is beautiful. As she gets closer, he realizes that all the people make her uncomfortable. It reveals how she holds onto Otto's hand, her knickles white because of her tight grip. Helaenas gaze shifts restlessly back and forth. But then she looks at Aegon, he is glad that he is smiling at this moment because Helaena also starts smiling. Aegon takes a deep breath and suddenly Otto stands before him, handing over Helaena's hand. Her skin is cold. Aegon carefully pulls back her veil. She is paler than she was an hour ago, yet she bravely keeps a smile on her face.

The Septon begins to speak, but Aegon can hardly understand him. He has a ringing in his ears, he tries to focus on his breathing, but because he can hardly control it, it only makes things worse. Pull yourself together! Breathe in, breathe out. It gets a little better, but it is only the gentle pressure of Helaena's hand that brings him back to the moment. He takes the dagger from the Septon's hand and cuts into his palm, then he hands it to Helaena, and she does the same, grimacing for a brief moment as the blade slices through her skin. When she hands the dagger back to the Septon, her hand trembles. but when Aegon takes her hand, her grip is firm. For a brief moment, Aegon feels her blood running over his hand, but then it mixes with his own and he gets used to it. The Septon binds their joined hands. The only Valyrian part of this wedding ceremony is over, and the Septon is following the script of the Faith of the Seven.

Helaena and Aegon speak the words. They leave a strange feeling on his tongue, but they don't sound wrong. The kiss is nothing more than a slight touch of their lips, and then it’s over. They are married.

He looks at Helaena, she nods and smiles. Then he turns her halfway, and those present begin to clap while the newlyweds walk back down the aisle. Aegon keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead. He cannot look at his mother. Outside a carriage is waiting to take them to a banquet at the Red Keep. Aegon is not hungry. And he doesn't want a banquet, he doesn't want to dance. He would prefer to have something to drink.

Aegon chokes down a bit of the food. Helaena, who is sitting next to him at the high table, hardly touches her food too. Alicent instructed the servants not to give Aegon any wine, but Aemond and Cristion always manage to secretly slip him a cup. Aegon thanks all the gods for the two of them.

Speeches are being given and music is played. Aegon dances exactly one song with Helaena before he flees back to his seat and takes a sip of his wine.

He hates it here, finds all of this repulsive. He can hardly stand to stay in this room for another moment. But he pulls himself together and clings to his chair and his wine.

His gaze sweeps across the room. Helaena is talking with her old nanny. A woman long past her fortieth nameday and one of Helaena's confidants. Alicent couldn't bring herself to send her back home when Helaena got older, so she stays at the Keep in Helaenas services.

Aegon looks at his hands, the nail beds are bloody, yet he can't help but keep picking at his skin. To distract himself he looks at his mother to see if her hands are bloody as well. Alicent sits in here seat next to the king, watching the dancing people. Her foot is tapping to the beat of the music. Aegon had heard that his mother, when she was young, had danced for hours on end with his half-sister. But Viserys is old and sick and hasn't danced in a long time. So his mother doesn't dance anymore either.

The thought is not yet fully formed when Aegon is already on his feet and walking over to his mother. He remembers his courtesies and bows slightly before the queen and the king.

"You allow your Grace?" he says to his father, but he looks at his mother while saying it. She looks surprised at his outstretched hand. Viserys laughs briefly beside him and then suppresses a cough before he responds.

"Of course, of course." his voice almost breaks with joy. Alicent reaches for Aegon's hand and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. The other couples respectfully make room and limit their dancing to the sidelines.

Aegon hopes that enough of the hated dance lessons have stuck with him so that he doesn't completely embarrass himself. But his body seems to remember the dance steps. After a moment of uncertainty he manages to lead his mother safely to the music. She shows a radiant smile, tears welling up in her eyes. Aegon is not quite sure, but he hopes that she is happy.

"I don't know if you remember," Alicent begins to speak softly. "But when you were little, we always danced in my chambers. You were standing on my feet. I hummed the melody because we didn't have any musicians. You always laughed so much." she swallows and her smile trembles.

"I remember it." Aegon lies, feeling a lump forming in his throat. For a brief moment, he does not see his mother, the queen, but Lady Alicent, the young girl she once was. Then guilt overwhelms him, because he is the reason she is no longer that young girl. Through him, she has become a mother. He forced her into the role of a mother.

"And now you are married and grown up." she sounds sad, and Aegon doesn't know what to say. His mother sighs softly, but then confidently executes her dance steps with a quick turn. When Aegon can look at her again, she smiles again. "I am glad that Helaena has you as her husband."

Everything in him wants to scream that she is mistaken. Helaena cannot be happy that he is her husband. But Alicent keeps talking.

"I know that you will protect her. You will be good to her. Because you are my little boy and she my little girl." she sobs and can't manage to keep her smile up. "I'm so sorry."

Aegon is glad that the dance is over at this moment because he feels frozen. His throat is dry, but he knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. His head is empty. And after a blink of an eye, his mother put on her perfect smile again and wearing it like a mask. She takes a step back, and as her hand slips out of his, he feels as if she is slipping away from him. I will not fail you. He wants to say it, but it's too late. Alicent smiles and curtsies, then turns around and walks back to her place next to the king. Viserys claps his hands, and immediately everyone turns to him. Aegon is glad about his father for the first time in his life because he still cannot move.

"It's time. We have decided that there will be no bedding ceremony, so we will now bid farewell to the newlyweds here." Viserys hadn't decided anything at all, it was all his mother. She would probably have burned down the Red Keep before she would have allowed strange men to lift Helaena and tear her clothes off her body. Aegon is glad about that. The attention of the people turns to him, Aegon looks around and is relieved that Helaena is already approaching him. He reaches out his hand and she grabs it. This time her hand doesn't tremble, she stands so close to him that he can feel her body heat. The king stands up unsteadily and reaches for his cup. "Let's drink to the prince and the princess. For health and a good and fruitful marriage." The bystanders also raise their cups. "To the prince and the princess." Helaena and Aegon can only stand there and receive the false blessing. No one cares about them. Aegon can hardly stand it any longer and leads Helaena out of the hall.

Aemond, Ser Criston, and two other Kingsguards follow them to his cambers. He closes the door to his chambers behind Helaena and hin and leans his forehead against the wooden door. He takes a few deep breaths.

Aegon knows that Aemond will now withdraw, just like the Kingsguards. Ser Criston would stand by the door. Aegon's skin crawls at the thought that Criston's task tonight goes beyond just keeping watch. Aegon is not sure if Helaena knows that they are being listened to. He doesn't want to tell her. He is not even sure if he is capable of fulfilling his duty.

Despite it he turns to Helaena. She had taken off her hair ornament from which the veil was hanging and placing it on the table. Her gaze wanders to her things that are already here. Skeptically, she furrows her brows as her fingertips glide over the fabric of the veil.

"Nothing has gone broken." says Aegon. That must surely worry her right? He wishes he could read her thoughts. Are they as confused as her words?

"Tomorrow they will bring the rest of my things," says Helaena, turning her head to look at him. "I'm sorry that you have to share your chambers with me now."

Aegon shrugs his shoulders. It had been a decision, his decision. It doesn't bother him. It is not foreign to him to sleep next to Helaena in a bed. Countless nights, the siblings had crawled into each other's beds. On particularly terrible nights, Aegon had even bring it over him to show up at his mother's doorstep. She never rejected him when he stood before her with tear-streaked cheeks, reeking of wine. She would alway pull him into his arms. No one talked about these nights. It is a silent agreement between Alicent and her children. Aegon imagines that it can be nice to never have to sleep alone again.

"I like having you with me," he says, wanting Helaena to not feel guilty for moving into his chambers.

The two of them are standing indecisively in the room. Aegon would prefer to run away. Instead, he goes to the table and reaches for a cup. "Wine?"

"Mother took your wine with her." Aegon goes to one of the dressers and takes out a carafe with Helaena's favorite wine to pour it into the cup.

"If there's one thing that's for sure it's that I always have some wine hidden somewhere." as he hands her the cup, she smiles gratefully. Helaena takes a big sip while Aegon pours himself a drink. He notices that his hands are not trembling. Only after he has drowned his cup does he dare to say what has been swirling in his mind all evening.

"The dress is beautiful." he takes a deep breath. "You look beautiful."

Helaenas eyes widen in surprise and blood rushes to her cheeks, Helaena begins to play with the fabric of her dress. Now in the candlelight, it shimmers more gold, and Aegon has to swallow at the sight.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Is she insecure? Did he unsettle her? Words form on his tongue, but he swallows them down. He stares at Helaena, he knows he should look away but he can't. Forget it. That's just Helaena. His Helaena? He has known her her whole life. She is now his wife. She is now his Helaena. Or maybe she has always been his? Always been a part of him?

"Is it okay if I say that kind of things?" he feels dumb and insecure. A smile appears on Helaena's face. Aegon is sure that it is real.

"Yes, it's okay. I just didn't expect it. You've never said that you think I'm beautiful."

Aegon takes a deep breath. He chooses absolute honesty, only then does he feel like he is not failing. He has always tried to be better than he is. Now he has to be better than he is. For Helaena. He has no other choice.

"I have never thought it. I forbade myself to see you this way years ago. But today I couldn't help it," he explains. Helaena nods and then takes a sip from her cup before pushing it aside.

"I chose the color of the fabric myself, and then Mother had your festive outfit coordinated with it. It was nice to be able to make a decision." Aegon furrows his brows, trying to find the deeper meaning in her words. Is there even one?

"Can you help me take it off?" It's a bit heavy. Or should I call the maids?"

"No, I can help you," he says quickly. When the doors to these chambers are opened once more, he knows that he cannot hold himself back and would run.

Helaena turns around and Aegon begins to untie the laces of the dress at her back. To his surprise, Helaena starts giggling after a moment.

"What is funny?"

"I was just thinking that you've probably done that a few times already." again, she giggles. She doesn't seem to be angry at all that he has already been with other women. Aegon's lips also curl into a smile.

"Yes. I've done this a few times," he admits as he carefully pulls the fabric over the loose strings, causing the dress to slip from Helaena's shoulders. His breath catches for a moment before he forces himself to take a step back. Helaena pulls the dress off her body, the fabric pooling around her feet, and she steps forward out of her shoes and the dress. Aegon suppresses the need to take a step back again.

Under ber dress, Helaena is wearing a silk nightgown. Aegon can't help but stare at her.

"We can talk around it for half the evening now, but you know what still needs to happen for me to truly be your wife."

Aegon flinches slightly at her words. She is clearly braver than he is. He starts fiddling with his hands again.

"You are right," he says softly.

"I don't know what to do." Helaena says, fiddling with the white fabric of her nightgown.

They dressed her up for him, and that's wicked, and it drives him crazy that it works. He forces himself to turn his gaze away from the almost transparent fabric and the curves beneath it.

Aegon thinks about the whores he takes. Always fast and hard, he never looks them in the eyes, they always have bruises when he is done. He looks at Helaena's pale skin, and when he imagines that it is also stained with bruises, he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

"I don't know either." Silence spreads before Helaena hesitantly begins to speak. "But you already have done…I mean, I often hear about your visits to the brothel."

Aegon laughs joylessly. "Yes," he answers to her unasked question.

He doesn't even need to ask if Helaena is a maiden. Not only did she grew up under the watchful eyes of her mother as a princess in the Reed Keep, but she is Helaena, the girl who sometimes can hardly bear it when her mother holds her hand. Helaena in a passionate embrace with a man? Aegon can't even imagine it. And in the next moment, he realizes that he has to do the unimaginable today.

"So you know what we have to do?" her cheeks are flushing and stand in contrast to the radiant white of her nightgown. On top of that, the way she looks at him with her big eyes paints the perfect picture of innocence.

Aegon knows that he will be send into the deepest of the Seven Hells because he cannot suppress the burning desire that this sight awakens in him. He wants to take away her innocence. He is a wicked man.

"What happened in Silk Street and in the brothels are things that you don´t do to your wife."

"Oh."

He glances at her briefly, and this time he is sure that she is insecure. He doesn't want her to feel that way. It is now his task to take that from her. He will not fail. Aegon briefly closes his eyes to sort his thoughts before he speaks.

"There are two ways we can do this. We can see this whole thing as an obligation. We handle it like a task or we try to find passion and pleasure in it. "

"Pleasure? How?"

Aegon must pull himself together so that his thoughts don't drift off to all the ways that could worship her body. Instead he takes a step closer to her. Aegon hesitates for a moment, then places a hand on her cheek. She does not flinch at his touch.

"I can't explain it. I want to show it to you. May I kiss you?"

Helaena nods slightly, and Aegon leans in further and places his lips on hers. The kiss is only brief, like a test. Aegon doesn't know what he had expected, but not that a pleasant warmth would spread within him. And also not that Helaena follows him when he wants to withdraw. He stops and her lips are already on his again.

This kiss is more passionate than he had expected, and Aegon feels a shiver run through him as she parts her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide over hers. Breathless, Helaena pulls away from him. She rests her forehead against his, Aegon's thumb caress over her neck.

"Did I do it right?" she asks softly. Aegon feels that the only appropriate reaction would be to sink to his knees and pray to her. Instead, he curses quietly before he answers.

"That was perfect. You are perfect."

He strokes her cheeks and kisses her briefly once more. Helena's hands wander over his clothed chest.

"Can you take that off?" she asks, a slight blush already shimmering over her cheeks. Aegon feels the need to relieve some tension from the situation.

"Should the answer to this question ever be no, please take a dagger and stab me," she giggles softly like he had hope. Aegon begins to unbutton his shirt, but Helaena places her hands on his. They are a little warmer than before.

"May I?"

Aegon nods at her question, and Helaena opens his shirt. Her fingers gently glide over the exposed skin, and a shiver runs through Aegon's body. It tickles slightly, and Aegon can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Gently Helaena strokes his upper body, and Aegon places his hands on her hips. She stops a his chest for a moment they simply stand there breathing in each other's scent. Aego feels calm like he hasn't felt in weeks or was it months?

"Can you let your hair down for me?" Aegon asks into the silence.

Helaena smiles and nods. Then she takes a step back and starts pulling hairpins out of her hairstyle. Aegon's hands lose contact with her hips, and he has to suppress a sigh. While Helaena undoes her braids, she walks back to the table and places her hair clips on it. Aegon pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He runs both hands over his face and takes a deep breath once more. Then he looks over at Helaena. She had already undone almost all of her braids, and her blonde hair was falling over her back. Aegon slowly approaches her. When she undoes the last braid, he places his hands back on her hips and gently pulls her closer to him. She leans into his touch. Aegon stands behind her and gently brushes her blonde hair from her neck and over her shoulder with one hand. Slowly, he leans down and kisses her neck.

Helaena gasps for air, goosebumps rise on her neck.

Aegon is very aware of these two facts, and they send a hot desire racing up his spine. His lips wander up her neck to her earlobe. "I'm not good enough for you," Aegon whispers in her ear. "I am a sick man."

She responds in a heartbeat. "Then I am also a sick woman." Helaene's voice trembles. Aegon needs a moment to understand what she has said. She wants him, desires him. Presumably not in the same twisted way, but in her own way, she desires him. She turns to him, letting her hands wander over his bare arms and shoulders until they rest on his neck.

There is no trace of hesitancy as she speaks. "I want to choose option two. I want to try it with passion and pleasure."

Aegon can no longer resist her. His lips crash onto hers. Helaena presses herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Aegon turns them both around, his lips wandering over her cheeks to her neck. He lightly sucks on the pale skin, and Helaeana lets out a moan.

In this moment, Aegon vows to himself that he will find every spot on her body that makes her make those sounds again. He needs all his willpower to tear himself away from her one last time.

"Helaena you look like a goddess in that nightgown but you have to take it off, otherwise I will have to tear it."

Once again Aegon is relieved that she is giggling. Helaena takes half a step back and reaches for the hem of her nightgown to pull it over her head. The fabric carelessly lands on the floor. Aegon doesn't even try to stop himself from letting his gaze wander over her naked body. Of course, she is perfect for him in every way. Hot disire washs over him, like he never experience before.

"Perfect. You are perfect. Beautiful." he says before even a trace of uncertainty can appear in her. Helaena smiles. Aegon glides her to the side of his bed. As she stands before him, his arms slide to her knee pit, and with a smooth motion, he lifts her onto the bed. Helaena shifts and adjusts a bit on the soft sheets.

This morning, Aegon had observed how the maids had changed the bed sheets with fresh white sheets. Sheets just for this one night. Aegon quickly pushes the thought away. He wants to concentrate on the beautiful, naked woman in his bed now.

He follows Helaena onto the bed. His lips find hers again as he bends over her. Helaena's hands caress his shoulders and Aegon gets goosebumps.

Some of his blood has long since wander down from his brain and he feels his hardness pressing against his pants. The kiss becomes more intense and he lets a little more of his weight sink onto her. Helaena leans towards him and wraps her legs around his waist. The sudden contact makes Aegon moan softly. Helaena rubs herself against him and moans softly into the kiss. Her hands clench and he feels her nails lightly scratching the skin on his shoulders. Aegon suppresses a curse and a groan.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He has to make sure one last time that he is not completely misinterpreting this whole situation. He has to make sure that he is not failing her.

"Yes, I am fine. That feels good." Helaena answers him quietly.

"Yes." he groans. "But you have to stop." She stops moving immediately and takes her legs off him, afraid of doing something wrong, but Aegon continues. "Otherwise I'll come in my pants like a twelve-year-old."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks innocently and strokes the hair on his neck.

"Well, that would be very embarrassing for me." he grins at her neck and moves a little lower to her breasts. Gently he presses her hips down with one hand to prevent her from unconsciously rub against him again. It turns him on so much that he would probably actually come in his pants. Aegon kisses her breast while his other hand gently strokes the other's nipple. Helaena lays her head back on the pillow and bends towards his hand. Her breathing is rapid and Aegon has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He would like to sink his teeth into the pale skin under his lips. He wants to mark her as his, but he suppresses this urge. She is innocent. Don't drag her into your abyss. At least try to keep her away from that abyss for as long as possible.

Instead he pushes his hand along her hips a little further towards her middle. Would she let him touch her there? His hand wanders a little lower and then he notices how Helaena spreads her legs further for him. She makes room for him and Aegon lets his hand wander the last bit. When he notices how wet she is, he groans. The next moment he lets go of her breasts and instead bends up to kiss her lips. Helaena gasps at his sudden movement. Aegon wipes his finger on the bedsheet and puts his other hand on Helaena's cheek. She looks at him curiously he also recognizes lust in her eyes.

"I want you to relax. Is that possible?"

"Yes." Helaena leans back slightly into the pillows her hands sliding from his shoulders and resting on the soft bed linens beside her body.

"Good." says Aegon and kisses her lips once more. "You have to tell me if something doesn't please you or doesn't feel right." he kisses her cheeks and plays with one of her strands of hair. "And you have to tell me when you like something and it feels good." he kisses her other cheek, and Helaena giggles softly again. "Can you promise me that?"

"I promise it."

"Good Girl." his voice is a bit rough, and Helaena whimpers beneath him. Aegon's lips wander again over her neck, his hands gently glide over her body. He takes his time. He caresses the soft skin of her perfect hips, letting his lips and tongue wander over her nipples and kissing down her belly. He enjoys the feeling of her writhing beneath him, the soft whimpering and moaning searing into his brain, and Aegon already knows that he will become rock hard just from the memory. He shifts his weight back and sits back. Helaena's breath comes heavily, and she looks at him with half-closed pleasure-drenched eyes. Aegon lets his gaze wander over her perfect body. They say Targaryen are closer to gods than humans and as she lies naked in front of him, Aegon believes it. He looks forward to all the future nights he will spend exploring every inch of her body. Then he makes himself comfortable between her legs. He places her slender leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss her thigh. Helaena gasps slightly in shock, but then reaches out to him and his touches. Aegon kisses her thigh downwards with practiced ease. If Aegon learned anything during his years in Flea Bottom and Silk Street than how to satisfy a woman. Her wetness glistens slightly in the candlelight, and Aegon can hardly wait to taste her. The desire surprises him but he allows it. Enjoys it even so he let himself dive into his lust.

Just before he finally reaches her center with his lips Helaena flinches slightly and sits up a bit in bed. Aegon lets her withdraw and loosens his grip around her legs slightly as he looks up at her.

"Is that appropriate?" Helaean asks, and Aegon could die right here and now because he has seen all the beauty of this world. He lightly kisses the inner side of her thigh and lets his fingers glide over her bare skin.

"Yes" he replies then. "That is even necessary so that you have as little pain as possible."

"The pain is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"I don't know." he says honestly. He had never cared about the woman pain. Now nothing is more important to him than Helaena's well-being. "But I am as careful as I can be. Hurting you is the last thing I want."

"Okay. I trust you, Aegon." she lies back down on the pillow and stretches out toward him again. Aegon thanks the gods for Helaena before he kisses down her thigh again and finally he can close his lips over her center. Helaena gasps and Aegon pulls back slightly to give her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Her wet middle is right in front of him and he has to hold himself back from diving into her as if she is his last meal. Aegon can hardly wait to slide his cock between her wet folds. At the thought his cock twitches in his pants. Aegon closes his eyes for a moment. He needs to pull himself together. He can´t fail now. Not with Helaena.

He leans forward again and as his tongue glides gently through her folds. He can't suppress a moan. She tastes better than anything that has ever touched his lips. She flinches slightly, but Aegon gently holds her at her thighs. He dives into her, licking carefully upwards to her clitoris. He carefully sucks on it and is rewarded with a moan from Helaena. Aegon needs all his willpower not to completely dive in. Pull yourself together! You can´t overwhelm her.

So Aegon takes his time, his tongue explores her folds, leaving no spot untouched. He lets his tongue glide over her center and her pearl, alternating the rhythm and intensity. He remembers exactly which spot, which movement elicits a whimper or moan from Helaena. She writhes beneath him, stretching out towards him.

"Aegon." his name slips from her lips as her hand buries itself in his blonde hair. It's over, all restraint is breaking down. He dives deep in. His tongue glides into her, curling inside her. Once again, she moans his name. Aegon feels her moisture running down his chin, soaking him. He licks up every single drop. She twitches, her legs begin to tremble, and her hands claw into the sheet beneath her.

"Aegon stop."

Immediately he withdraws although everything in him screams to continue. Worry floods through him. Was it too much? Did he fail? He looks up at her.

"Are you in pain?"

"No. It felt good. But there was such a tension in me, a knot. Is that normal?"

Aegon has to bite his lips to avoid cursing or groaning. His cock twitches at the thought that Helanena ruined her first orgasm because of her innocence. It shouldn't turn him on that much. He is wicked.

"Yes, that is normal. Let it happen. It will feel good." he leans forward again and sucks on her pearl. "Let yourself fall."

She relaxes again, trusts him completely with her body. Helaena lets out a sigh as Aegon glides his tongue between her folds once more, Her legs tremble again. She writhes beneath him, but Aegon only quickens his tongue's strokes. Helaena moans loudly, Aegon notices how she pulsates around his tongue and starts to twitch. And then she comes onto his tongue. Her whole body shakes as she leans toward him once more before collapsing with a groan. He carefully licks up her cum wanting to taste every drop. Only when she stops twitching and pulsating he lets go from her.

Trembling and breathing heavily she looks at him with wide eyes. He kisses the inside of her thighs, caresses her belly, her hips. Under his fingertips, she gets goosebumps. His cock pulses almost painfully against his pants.

"Are you good?"

She nods vigorously. "Yes. I´m good. It was... I have no idea what that was. I let myself fall." she sighs and lets her head fall back into the soft pillows. Her loose hair forms a crown around her head. Once again Aegon can't help but think that she looks like a goddess. How could he have been so blind all this time? "Is it always like this? I mean, if we share the bed, will it always feel this good?" she asks while stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair.

Aegon doesn't even try to suppress a moan at her touch. He lets his lips wander over the soft skin again. He can't get enough. She leans towards him again, relaxing right beneath him. He breaks free to answer her.

"I will do my best to make you always feel like this." he says secretly vowing to himself that he will never come with his cock near her before the bed sheets are stained with her wetness and she has moaned his name at least once in a moment of passionate climax. His hand caresses her waist, she doesn't flinch. "Are you ready?" he asks before kissing her slender belly.

"For the consummation? Yes!"

He laughs softly. He would have never dared to dream that she is so eager to be dishonored by him.

"Not yet." he carefully slides a finger into her. Helaena gasps for air, but she doesn't pull away. "How does this feel?"

"It feels strange. But not bad. Unfamiliar."

He nods, pushing his finger a little deeper into her tightness, up to the second knuckle. He carefully curled his finger. Helaena stretches towards him she doesn´t even trying to suppress her whimpers and moans. Her wetness runs over his hands, he carefully adds a second finger. She is so damn tight that for a brief moment he doubts if she can take him. He moves his fingers slowly and then slightly spread them, trying to prepare her. His thumb caresses over her clitoris. Helaena cries out in pleasure and begins to move with him. Aegon stops his movement for a moment, but Helaena simply starts to pleasure herself on his fingers. He can't take his eyes off this sight. He has never seen anything so hot. He notices how she pulses around his fingers, her hips moving faster. Aegon can't wait any longer. It must be enough. He has to have her now. Aegon carefully pulls his fingers out of her. She lets out a disappointed whimper. He sits up, letting his gaze wander over her body once more. His eyes stop on her breasts with the erect nipples. He bends forward to close his lips around it. His cock is throbbing painfully again and craving his attention. Aegon thoughts start racing, he definitely doesn't want to hurt her and is afraid that he is too big for her.

"Let's switch places. You can sit on me, then you can have the control," Aegon suggests. Helaena briefly furrows her brows as she thinks, then her cheeks turn red and she shakes her head.

"What if I do something wrong?"

"You can't do anything wrong," he explains to her, stroking her cheek. She leans into his touch, close her eyes for a moment. Aegon yields to the need, leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"I am unsure," says Helaena. "Is there another way?"

"Oh sweet Helaena," he sighs kisses her cheek. Thenhe wanders with his lips to her neck and then up to her earlobe. He bites carefully, and Helaena lets out a soft moan. Her eyes stay closed as she tilts her head to the side to give him more space. "There are thousands ways and if you allow it, I will show you each and every one." She giggles softly. When he sucks on her neck, she moans.

"Yes please," she says. Aegon thinks for a second that he's going to comes like a twelve-year-old. He releases her neck braces himself on his arms to avoid putting all his weight on her, and looks at her. Her eyes are drenched in desire, a few dops of sweat have gathered on her forehead. His gaze lingers on the red hickey on her neck. It is clearly marked on her porcelain skin. He has marked her as his own. Aegon takes a deep breath and kisses her briefly on the lips. He climbs out of bed and starts to unbutton his pants. Helaena watches him. As he pulls down his pants and his member springs free, her eyes widen slightly. He is hard and pre-cum is leaking from the tip. Helaena looks like a shocked deer. Aegon knows that he is not small, above average and for the first time in his life, he wishes it weren't like this. Everything in him resists causing her pain. He comes back to bed positioning himself between her legs which she opens for him. He kisses her, and Helaena returns the kiss, their tongues playing around each other. Her hands caress his neck, running up and down his back and over his shoulders. Everywhere she touches him he gets goosebumps and his skin tingles. Aegon lets his hands wander over her breasts, his lips move over her neck, continuing down to her collarbone and then to her breasts. He sucks on her nipple while his fingers caress the other one. She gasps and stretches out towards him again, her hips twitching and her waist rubbing against his shaft. Aegon groans at her breasts. He extends his hardness into her moisture. Helaena crys and he captures her lips in a kiss. Aegon shifts his weight slightly and pushes his tip between her folds. Helaena takes a sharp breath. Aegon needs every shred of self-control not to mercilessly hammer into her. Hot desire races up his spine, he feels how his cock twitches inside her. He has to breathe deeply to avoid coming right away. His hand grips her hip, he gently presses her into the sheets to keep her still. If she twitched upwards now, he wouldn't be able to hold back. He needs it to ground himself. Slowly, he pushes himself forward. She whimpers beneath him, slightly grimacing in pain. Aegon stops in his movement.

"Should we stop?"

"No!" she claws at his shoulders, the slight pain as her nails dig into his skin makes him moan softly. "Please don't. I want the Aegon." she leans up to him and kisses him. This time it is her tongue that glides into his mouth and plays with his.

He continues to sink into her his tip gliding inside her, she is so damn tight. Aegon noticed how her wetness ran down his cock. He feels a resistance and stops. He slowly pulls out again. He caresses her body, kisses her soft skin, and then slowly thrusts in again. This time she manages to take him a little further before he pulls back again. Inch by inch he slides inside her.

Helaena tenses up a bit while Aegon tries to distract her with kisses, kissing her neck and allowing himself to nibble on her skin. Careful not to leave any bite marks. With his next thrust, Helaena bites her lip to keep from screaming as he fully enters her for the first time. Aegon's whole body is tense as his cock is enveloped by her warm tightness. He trembles but tries to stay as still as possible while she gets used to him. Helaena takes a deep breath. Then she places her hand on Aegon's cheek strokes it and smiles.

"I'm doing well," she says even though tears are welling up in her eyes. Aegon can't help but kiss her. It is a soft, innocent kiss. But only for a few moments. Helaena wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him closer, and then pushes her hips forward as a sign that she is ready. Aegon moans at her lips. He completely withdraws only to then glide fully between her folds again.

What has he done to deserve something so good? He is a broken man. A sick man. But as he sinks into the wet warmth between her legs, he is sure that the gods have forgiven all his sins and rewarding him with heaven.

He maintains a slow rhythm, even though everything in him screams to selfishly take her and spill his seed deep inside her. Helaena moves her hips with his, her breath quickens, her kisses become sloppy. Aegon reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers. With the next thrust, Helaena moans again and wraps her legs around his hips. So she pushes him further inside her and Aegon curses against her lips. He won't last long.

Aegons hand wanders between her bodies and he begins to gently rub her pearl with the flat of his hand while continuing to thrust into her. She moves with him, fitting him like a glove. Aegon feels as if they fit together perfectly. Sweat drips from his forehead. He notices how she trembles again, her walls pulsating around him as she moans. His name falls from her lips. Aegon quickens his movements around her clit, and then she comes. As she pulls him in and starts clenching abround him, she drags him over the cliff with her. Aegon moans her name like a prayer as he comes, painting her walls white as he spills into her. He moves his hips carefully, riding out their orgasms before collapsing on top of her. He tries to keep his weight off her, but she wraps herself around him and pulls him closer. Helaena starts to scratch his neck. Aegon buries his face in the curve of her neck and takes a deep breath of her scent while trying to calm his pulse. He notices how Helaena is still pulsating around him. He gently pushes his hip a little forward. Helaena inhales sharply before she lets out a groan. A moan escapes his lips as he gently thrusts one last time, and then they both sink into each other, completely overstimulated. For a few heartbeats they remain like that. Helaena tucks a blonde strand of hair behind his ears. Aegon leans into her touch.

"You did not fail me," she whispers in his ear. Aegon notices how tears gather in his eyes. He quickly closes his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He breathes in the scent of Helaena's hair deeply and swallows his tears. For a brief moment, he still enjoys the feeling of her scratching his neck. Then Aegon carefully pulls himself out of her and rolls from her.

He doesn't know what to say. Should he say anything at all? Or would he say exactly the wrong thing now? Aegon remains silent and simply pulls Helaena into his arms instead. He kisses her lips and then her forehead. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles up to him. Gently, her fingertips glide over his shoulders. Aegon closes his eyes and pulls her closer to him at her waist.

Helaena takes a deep breath, turns slightly in his arm to look at him.

"The way you have give me pleasure." she starts. "How can I do that for you?" Aegon laughs softly and kisses her forehead. "Oh sweet wife. First of all it gives me the greatest satisfaction to see you come, and secondly, we still have enough time for that." Helaena smiles and nods. She snuggles back into his arms. Of course, her head fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

"Okay sweet Husband."

It's the first time she calls him that and it makes Aegon's heart race for a brief moment. Maybe he wouldn't drag her into his abyss. Maybe she would pull him a little away from his darkness.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon ii x helaena #aegon x helaena #helaegon #aegon ii smut #helaena Targaryen smut #Helaegon smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen smut #hotd smut

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Text

Chapter 10 - Shifting Tides

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Soo, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” Violet starts as the three of them walk down their new dorm. First year dorms may be the smallest private dorms on campus, but damn, all Genevieve could think was that was the best night sleep of her life.

“I felt like celebrating,” She said, and Genevieve whistled.

“You didn’t think to ask me first?” She says, her words light as a small smile comes on her face.

“You have enough on your plate, sex wise,” Rhiannon said, teasing Genevieve. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?” She asks Violet. “Ridoc definitely has a thing for you, not emotionally just physically, and Liam has a thing for you emotionally.”

“Liam? Liam Mairi? You’re insane.” Violet says, waving her off. “And either way, if he wants to celebrate with me, he’s going to have to ask first.”

Genevieve and Rhiannon laugh, and she giggles too, a blush on her cheeks.

“Good morning, Ladies.” Ridoc says, forcing his way through the crowd and slinging an arm around their shoulders as they enter the dining hall. “Or should I say, riders.”

“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction.

“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees.

“It definitely sounds better than dead.” Genevieve says, her voice serious but the tone implicates a tease.

“Where’s your relic?” Violet asks, used to ignoring the awful offhand comments Genevieve makes.

“Right here,” He says, his arm falling off of their shoulders as he rolls his sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown silhouette of a dragon on his upper arm. “You?”

“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.” Ridoc whistles, and he spins to face Rhiannon.

“And you? What about yours, Rhi?”

“Somewhere you’ll never see,” She responds, and he laughs.

“You wound me.” He slaps a hand over his heart.

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there's a smile on her face. The group moves through the hall into the line for breakfast.

“And Genevieve?” He asks Rhiannon, completely bypassing asking Genevieve who he knows isn’t paying attention.

“On her back,” Rhiannon says. “It’s crazy looking. Her rebellion relic mixes with her dragon relic. It’s insane.”

As they make their way through the line, Genevieve’s mind is elsewhere. It feels as if the energy in the dining hall has shifted. It’s different now.

“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters in a context Genevieve hasn’t heard. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.”

“I can,” Violet shrugged, taking her chances with a maybe poisoned mug of apple juice. “I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out of the wing.”

“I don’t even know what you’re saying, but they’d have to kill me first,” Genevieve says, taking a bite out of her own apple. As they walk to the fourth wing section of the cafeteria, they find a table and only three extra seats.

“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts.

“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench.

“Sorry, Hale!” The other says over his shoulder as they find another table.

What the fuck?

“Well, that was really fucking weird.” Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and Genevieve sits on the other side as Violet follows.

“Even weirder?” Ridoc remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing.

The girls follow his line of sight, and their eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take a seat.

“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews. Jack moves again, and then again.

”Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Ridoc notes, watching the same show they all are. There’s no satisfaction in their view, everyone knows feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered.

“Hey, Hale,” the stocky girl from First Wing I beat in my second challenge says with a tight smile as she walks past our table.

“Hey,” she says, nodding her head, but then she turns to face Rhiannon. “That girl hasn’t spoken one word to me since I threatened her hair when she beat up Violet.”

“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench. She sits, pushing the sleeves up from her tunic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Hale, are now the most powerful rider in the quadrant. If they weren’t scared before they’re definitely scared now.”

She blinks, her pulse elevating. Is that what is going on? Social groups have split, but it still doesn’t make sense-

“Which is why you’re sitting with us now?” Rhiannon arches a brow at the second-year. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” She holds up a fist with zero fingers raised.

Genevieve glances around the table, to the seconds years, Quinn and Imogen, and to Sawyer who has finally arrived. Imogen is cool and Quinn is cool as well, but this was strange. Genevieve’s eyes glance at the patches on their jackets, but she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows that her patches mean Flame Section, Fourth Wing, First Year, and now also Iron Squad.

“You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before, and now you’ve survived Threshing, so you’re worth it.” Imogen responds as she bites into a muffin. Suddenly the third years in their section sit down too, and Genevieve almost chokes on the apple she’s been nursing the entirety of breakfast.

“My dragon is not that cool, if that's what you’re looking for,” She says, biting her tongue from saying anything mean.

“I take immediate offense to that,” Tairn huffs. “Now eat something more than an apple and get over your fear that Oren has poisoned you.”

“I’m not eating the food on my plate,” Genevieve counters. “It’s definitely poisoned.”

“We aren’t looking for your dragon,” Imogen says, her voice strong. “We’re looking for you, because now you’re under our watch. Now eat your food.”

Genevieve looks bewildered, but she doesn’t say a single thing.

“You’re the Iron Squad, and you and Violet both have some crazy dragons on your tail. That means eyes are on you from every direction. A huge red target is painted on your back.” Her voice is low, but it cuts through the clamor of the hall. “And whether you like it or not, this balance isn’t going to change any time soon, so get used to it.”

Genevieve glances at Rhiannon, confusion evident on her face.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” She says, her words biting and strong.

“Oh, Xaden didn’t tell you?” She says, a sly smile on her face. “Tairn and Sgaeyl are mated, so even though your relic isn’t on your arm, you’re one of us now.”

“Oh shit,” Ridoc whispers, and Violet nods her head in agreement.

“You’re in our squad now.”

—————————————-

Violet had explained to Genevieve that mated dragons aren’t common, not even by a long shot, and to let mated dragons bond riders in different years was unheard of, but dragons do what dragons want, as exemplified by Violet.

She explained that Xaden and Genevieve themselves are now binded, their lives intertwined in some sick curse that ties their fate with a little red string. When one dies, the other dies, when one gets hurt, the other feels it, when one feels another strong emotion, the other feels the emotion. She was never alone with Tairn now, but not only was Tairn in her head, Xaden was too.

“Stop thinking so hard and get on my back, we have maneuvers to master,” Tairn grumbled, his voice low. She mounted his back, and found her seat easily.

“Were you planning on telling me? That you and Sgaeyl were mated?” She asked over the bond, her mind distracted from her actions.

“Sgaeyl had assured me that the wingleader would tell you, and that I shouldn’t worry about it,” He said, his tone grumpy like it usually was. “I see now that he did not, and I should stop trusting that wingleader.”

“You don’t like Xaden?” She asked, as they took off, following second behind Professor Kaori, who Tairn had said he would only follow because he was Genevieve’s professor.

“I don’t like the boy,” Tairn huffed. “But Sgaeyl loves him, so I won’t char him. Maybe I’ll lightly toast him.”

“You shouldn’t set him on fire anyways, he’s an asset,” She said quickly, ignoring the blush rising on her cheeks. Genevieve cast another glance down at Violet, a few dragons back. Andarna didn’t come, Violet flew on Atrape alone. “What’s the deal with Violet and Atrape?” Genevieve asked, quickly diverting the conversation away from Xaden and onto Violet. “She looks like she can’t hold her seat.”

“She can’t,” Tairn replies, banking left, following Kaori into the canyons. “Atrape is one of the strongest dragons in the vale, maybe third to Codagh and I. Her powers are keeping Violet in that seat.”

“Shouldn’t she be saving her powers, for…” Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to verbalize what she wanted to say. “…combat?”

“Stop asking meaningless questions,” Tairn huffed, his annoyance evident in every word that was communicated in their bond. “Atrape has more power in her than most other dragons could even imagine having. She will be fine.”

And Genevieve nodded, who was she to argue with a dragon, an all-mighty, all-knowing being. The dragon that had chosen her. She was not one to argue. Her grip tightened on Tairn’s back as the cool rush of wind from the canyon blew against her hot skin. She knew better than to press Tairn when he was already somewhat irritated, but she wanted to know how Violet was keeping her seat.

As they neared the sharp turns of the canyon, Genevieve let the questions go, her focus snapping to the task at hand. Flight training was brutal, she couldn’t afford a lapse in concentration. Train’s powerful wings sliced through the air as they banked hard left, narrowly avoiding the jagged cliffs that seemed to rise out of nowhere. Kaori’s dragon led the pack, weaving through the narrow paths with ease. She could sense Tairn’s irritation at following anyone, but for some reason, it felt as if he cared enough about her to swallow his pride.

Behind her, the presence of a struggling Violet claws at her mind.

Be quiet, Geneiveve, She chastised herself. Violet is your friend. She’s trying. Be nice.

“I didn’t know nice was in your vocabulary,” Train huffed. “Now focus.”

“I am!” She shot back, adjusting her posture as they approached a narrow pass. The jagged rocks below glinted dangerously in the sunlight, promising death to anyone who made the wrong move.

As they passed the gap, her eyes flicked back to Violet, who was struggling more visibly now. Atrape’s wings beat with precise power, but there was something off about the way Violet held herself in the saddle. She was slipping, her body tense and rigid, as if each move was a desperate attempt to stay upright. Geneiveve knew that look–the look of someone who was fighting for control, not just over their dragon, but over themselves.

“She’s going to fall,” Genevieve muttered over the bond, her heart skipping a beat.

“She won’t,” Train replied, his voice steady but cold. “Atrape won’t let her.”

Kaori signaled the next maneuver–a sharp dive into a winding ravine, followed by an immediate ascent. Genevieve could feel the pressure in her chest as Tairn obeyed, plunging toward the ground with a terrifying speed that left her stomach in knots.

As they pulled up, her breath caught in her throat as Tairn shot off. He was so fast. The wind in her hair was so freeing.

“You ready?” Train asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“Always.”

With a swift movement, they dove into the loops, Train’s wings angling perfectly to guide them through the tight spaces. Genevieve felt every shift, every beat in sync with her movements. They were seamless, an extension of each other. The world blurred around her as they cut through the air, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Violet, behind her, struggling more than ever. Atrape’s wings fell, just for a split second, and Genevieve knew–knew deep in her heart–that Violet wasn’t going to make it through the next turn.

“Violet!” She shouted, the sound swallowed by the rush of wind, her heart lurching.

She felt the tug of the bond, Xaden’s awareness surging into her thoughts. He felt it too, the fear, the instinct to protect. But Genevieve couldn’t let herself be distracted by that–by him.

“Leave it!” Train barked, sensing her instinct to intervene.

Genevieve hesitated, her grip tightening as the next loop approached. She had to make a decision. Focus on the maneuver, or–

Atrape dipped down, grabbing Violet with her claws and tossing her back into her seat.

“Thank the gods,” Genevieve whispered, her own heart racing as if she was the one who fell.

“Look at you, you have emotions!” Train laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

—————————————

“Were you planning on-” her shin came into contact with the punching bag she was using. “never telling me that our dragons are mated?”

Xaden’s eyes were dead set onto her body under the guise of watching her train. Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Liam, and a few other rebellion kids were in the gym. As Genevieve’s eyes cast over the room, her eyes narrowed on Violet.

“And why is Imogen training Violet?” Her other leg made contact strongly, but she was distracted, so she stumbled back.

“I was going to tell you, I was just waiting for…” he trailed off, his words lost on an already angry Genevieve.

“No you weren’t. You were going to wait for me to ask like always,” she snapped. Her eyes held so much rage, Xaden could feel the flames of anger engulfing him. “Did you manipulate Threshing?” Her voice was a dangerous whisper. “Did you tell Sgaeyl to bond me so we would be linked together?”

“Of course not!” He immediately responded. “This is the worst case scenario, I do not want to be linked to you.”

Genevieve’s expression narrowed, her body going rigid with tension. Her expression darkened as she took a step closer to Xaden, the sheen of her sweat glistening under the mage lights, but her focus was far from the physical exertion of training. “Worst case scenario?” She repeated, her words venomous. “So being bound to me is so repulsive that it’s your worst case scenario?”

Xaden ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching with tension as the weight of his own words sank in.

“Gen, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” his voice softened, trying to ease the fire that radiated off of Genevieve. “This bond just complicates things—everything. You know that.”

She scoffed, eyes flicking between him and the rest of the room. The rebellion kids continued their sparring, laughter mingling with the sharp sound of fists hitting targets, completely unaware of the storm brewing between them. Violet had slowed her movements, however, casting a glance in their direction. It only fueled Genevieve’s resentment.

Genevieve’s fingers curled into fists, her knuckles whitening with the force of her anger. She took another deliberate step toward Xaden, her voice low and cutting, barely concealing the fury beneath the surface. “Complicates things for you, you mean.” Her eyes narrowed further, the tension in her muscles betraying her desire to his something—maybe even someone. “Because Gods forbid you have to deal with the consequences of anything outside your control.”

Xaden’s jaw tensed as he fought to keep his composure, but Genevieve’s words hit home. He’d always prided himself on control—of his dragon, his squad, his emotions—and now, it was unraveling. Genevieve, with her endless need for vengeance, her relentless drive, and now their unwanted bond, was the epicenter of that chaos. She was the reason.

“I didn’t choose this,” he said firmly, his voice edged with frustration. “Do you think I wanted Tairn to bond with you? This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you.” His faze flickered away briefly, landing on Violet again, who had now fully paused her training to watch. That momentary distraction only inflamed Genevieve’s temper further.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. She advanced again, her proximity forcing Xaden to meet her eyes. “This isn’t about the bond alone. This is about trust. This is about the fact that you kept this from me. That you decided what I should or shouldn’t know, like you always do.”

Xaden’s face hardened. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I was trying to figure out the details of it, how to handle it before—”

“Before what?” Genevieve’s voice rose now, drawing the attention of the others in the gym. Xaden’s group of friends in the training gym paused, sensing the rising tensions. “Before you thought it was convenient to share? Or were you hoping I wouldn’t notice the massive life-altering detail until it was too late for me to get angry?”

Liam, sensing the explosive energy in the room, began walking toward them, his easy grin faltering, but Garrick held him back, shaking his head with an easy ‘no’. Imogen and Bodhi exchanged glances, but they stayed in place. Violet’s eyes lingered, her posture tense, though she hadn’t moved.

Xaden stepped closer to Genevieve now, his voice lowered but charged with intensity. “I was waiting until I could tell you in a way that didn’t—”

“Make you look like the selfish bastard you are?” Genevieve interjected harshly, her words hitting with the force of a blow. Her body was shaking, but not from the fatigue. It was from the rage she’d been suppressing since Imogen told her news that Xaden should have said in private. Since she’d realized that Xaden, despite everything they’d shared, still decided to withhold something so vital.

He flinched, a flash of regret crossing his face, but he didn’t retreat. “You know that’s not true,” he said quickly, but with conviction. “You know I never wanted this, but I didn’t want to make it worse either.”

”Worse?” Genevieve spat, her eyes blazing. “There is no ‘worse,’ Xaden. They’re dragons that bind our fate down to our own deaths and you let Imogen, someone who is practically a stranger, tell me? Instead of facing it and telling me you ran. You ran from me, from this, from everything.”

For a moment, the silence between them was deafening. The others in the gym held their breaths, waiting for the explosion. Genevieve’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she glared at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that would justify his actions. But Xaden remained still, his expression unreadable as he weighed his next words carefully.

“I didn’t run,” he said finally, his voice like a storm on the horizon—low, dark, and gathering strength. “I’m here, aren’t I? Fighting for us, for whatever the hell this bond means.”

Genevieve’s gaze hardened further, but something flickered beneath her fury. His words had struck a chord, and for a brief second, she felt the weight of his own burdens, his fears. But it wasn’t enough to douse the fire inside her.

“And yet,” she whispered, stepping back, the space between them feeling like a chasm, “you keep pushing me away. Every time I get close, every time there’s a chance for something between us that isn’t just physical, you shut down. You keep your secrets, your plans, and now even this from me.”

The gym was still now, the air thick with unspoken tension. Everyone was watching, waiting for the next move. But Genevieve didn’t care. She was done playing his games, done being a pawn in a world of half-truths and manipulations.

“Maybe being bound to you really is the worst-case scenario,” she said bitterly, her voice cold as ice. “Because I don’t think I can trust you anymore.”

The mage light above her blew out in a craze of sparks and glitter, and it felt like her skin was on fire with… magic.

“Day one of dragon bonds,” Imogen started, awe laced into the sarcasm she normally carried.

“And Genevieve is already channeling.” Violet finished.

And with that, she turned on her heel, leaving the gym and a stunned silence in her wake, her anger radiating like heat off her skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello everyone! What’s up? I’ve currently written a few chapters ahead so I can keep updating twice a week for at least a few weeks, so hopefully this new schedule makes you all happy!

On another note, I just wanted to say thank you for all of your words of appreciation and your compliments, I seriously cannot believe you guys actually read what I write and for you to tell me how much you love it makes me so happy I want to cry.

Please, like and comment if you enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts! What’re your predictions on her signet? I want to know~

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing xaden #liam mairi #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #garrick tavis x reader #bodhi durran #the empyrean

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