#*clenching fists* I need… oc content….

[sunnibits]

god… the urge to make Dimitri AMVs even though I’ve never made one before, have a horrible motivation track record, am currently experiencing one of my worst art blocks ever, etc….. the oc brainrot is simply so powerful….

[zolass]

In The King's Embrace Top Male King Oc x Bttm Servant Male Reader

First of all woah- what the fuck. I don't know who or what possessed me to write this in the beginning- but I need more of it because it fueled me to write my longest piece yet. ngl kinda had in mind to make it a foursome but kinda backed out of it, maybe if I do part two MDNI, what you consume is not my problem in the end tho. content/warnings: does it count as cheating?, smut, p in v at the start, submissive reader, overstimulation, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, anal, first time anal, vanilla, fluff at the end, reader gay or bi awakening idk maybe just a hoe I hope I got all contents and possible warnings down, if not I'm sry. 3.6k words

Pathetic whimpers of pleasure came from your throat, while your teeth were harshly digging into your bottom lip. Your hips rutted mindlessly, as the tight heat clenched around your cock, soft sultry moans spilled from the woman’s lips. Not any woman though, she was the queen, the same woman married to the man you served. 

Sprawled beneath you on the same bed she shared with her husband, her legs were wrapped tightly around your hips, keeping you close as you fucked mindlessly into her pussy that was already filled with your load from previous rounds. Unshed tears were in your eyes, not only from the overstimulation you had to endure, but also because you feared for your life.

“Come on– fuck give me your b-bastard child– ahh,” her words made your stomach churn, one hand moved up to knead her soft bosom, while the other went down to rub on her puffy clit. You felt how another orgasm built up in your groin, picking up the speed of your thrust and the rubbing on the queen’s clit. Just as you were about to bust another load in her wet pussy, the doors to the large bed chamber were pushed open and in came the king, his brother and a guard. 

Shocked by the sudden intrusion, by the exact person you didn’t want to get caught by, made your hips come to a shuddering stop. Yet the queen seemed thrilled by the sudden interruption by her husband, as her cunt clenched tightly around your sensitive cock, pushing you over the edge. A pathetic moan rippled from your throat in shame and pleasure, your eyes closed in bliss and fear before your body slumped. 

Your shoulders shaking and your legs twitching, you didn’t dare to open your eyes, not even when the queen spoke up, “You always have to ruin my fun do you, Raymond?” Her voice was challenging, as if she didn’t care that she cheated on her husband with a common servant.

A scoff left the king, “A bastard daughter, sleeping with a mere servant– I would’ve said I was surprised, but I’m certainly not,” you slowly opened your eyes, only to see the flushed furious face of the queen. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, not only were you caught and probably getting one of the worst punishments. Gulping you were frozen in place, until a pair of footsteps stalking closer to the bed, until a hand fisted your hair and pulled your head back, far enough to come face to face with the king. 

Raymond was by far an old king, he inherited the throne in his late teen years, now he’s in his late twenties as far as you remember. Swallowing you looked up at the man with wet eyes, a scoff left the king, as he pulled more on your hair, enlightening a breathy moan from you, “Pathetic, aren’t you,” it wasn’t a question, he spoke it as a fact. 

You watched as he licked over his lips, a fleeting glint formed in his eyes, but as quick as it was there, as quick it was gone. Raymond’s green eyes wandered over the state not only you were in but also the queen, pussy stuffed not only with your cock but also cum oozing out at the sides dirtying the sheets. 

Suddenly you were completely pulled off of the queen by your hair, it was rather rough, but in a pleasant way which made a small amount of cum spurt out of your slit, accompanied by a whimper. “I’ll be taking your.. plaything with me, goodnight Alesia,” Raymond said in a husky and mocking voice, before without even sparing a glance at the woman, dragging your naked form out of the bedchamber with the audience, the king's brother and the guard, who watched all of it unfold in silence before them, following behind.

Your nerves went through the roof, as you were dragged through the moonlit hallways. First you thought you would’ve been escorted to the dungeons as soon as you left the chamber, yet you were simply led to another wing of the castle.

As Raymond stopped in front of a large closed door, you had to stop yourself before you bumped into the king’s back. With a single push the doors opened, giving you the time to look inside another bedchamber. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, before you were simply pulled inside by Raymond.

In the middle of the room, the king came to a halt, turning to you. “Well now that we’re far away, I can say that for the first time, this– woman had at least a good looking plaything,” the king mused, as one of his large hands grabbed onto your chin, making you look up at the green eyes that were darkened by the lust swirling inside. “Now that you seem to have experience in warming the bed of a royal– it’s time you show me exactly what you can do,” Raymond said, as he let go of your chin and stalked around you slowly, his eyes trailing up and down your body. Like a predator observing its prey, which in this case was you, while the king seemed to be the predator ready to pounce and devour you.

Your head turned to the side, only realizing then that you were alone with the king, as said man pressed himself against your back. A gasp stuck in your throat by the sudden closeness, while your eyes took in the large bed which was standing only a few feet away from you.

A gentle push from behind you, made you swallow hard, as you slowly walked over to the bed, a look over your shoulder– a look into the lust filled eyes, had your legs trembling, biting your lip you tried to calm down your racing heart. “Who–?” your voice was barely audible, yet the question made a smirk tug at Raymond’s lips, “Who’s fucking who?” he finished the question that lingered in your mind, half spoken. Slowly you nod, enlightening a chuckle from the king as he stepped closer.

“Well even though I think it doesn’t have anything to do with it, but your pathetic look while you fucked Alesia, definitely made me want to have you come undone on my cock, even though your performance in fucking her seemed rather.. strong,”  Raymond spoke, his large hand placed on your lower back, rubbing circles with his thumb over your soft skin.

You gulped, as your body moved on its own, slowly bending over the bed. “Get on the bed and turn to me, we’ll have enough time and.. opportunities to test other places, but right now I want to see your face when I take you,” Raymond spoke, quickly following his order, you moved onto the bed soon finding you in the same position as the queen before, missionary. 

Movement caught your eye, and you saw first hand how the king slipped off his robes in a smooth motion, yet his hungry eyes simply laid on you, the intensity made your cock twitch. As soon as the robes were discarded on the ground Raymond came closer to the bed, before stopping in front of you. With his fingertips he brushed over your exposed thighs making them quiver in response.

It was slow and agonizing, not pushy and fast like you were used to by the queen. Raymond played it slow, taking in the way you reacted to the little touches, how your cock twitched. He pushed your thighs open, taking place between them as his fingers moved further up, until it wasn’t just his fingertips touching, but his entire hands, large warm hands that ran over your bare skin. 

From your thighs to your stomach, up to your chest and back down to finally settle on your hips. “Pretty..” the word surprised you, but his next word caught you off guard, “Did you ever have a man as a bed partner?” Raymond’s focus laid on you, as he waited for an answer. 

You slowly shook your head, no. Biting your lip nervously as a smirk formed on the taller man’s lips, “Then I’ll make sure it’s the best sex you ever had,” shivers ran down your spine, while one of Raymond’s hands moved down, past your cock to your untouched entrance, which soon won't be untouched anymore.

A gentle, almost ticklish feeling suddenly came from your hole. Your eyes widened as you watched how Raymond lubed his fingers with spit, yet as he lowered his hand back to your hole, you grabbed onto his arm, your short nails slightly digging into his arm, your nervousness palatable. “What–” the rest of your words are unspoken, yet clear. 

The king rubbed his thumb from the hand holding your hip, over your skin in a soothing manner, “Don’t worry, it’s so it won’t hurt or damage you when I push in,” Raymond said. You slowly nodded with more understanding of his actions, yet your hand still held onto him, as he lowered his fingers to your entrance. A sharp inhale from your side, as he pushed past the rim. You felt yourself clenching around the digit, the intrusion feeling alien to you. 

“Relax as best as you can,” it sounded easier than it was, which the other noticed as he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. Successfully distracting you with the most unexpected thing to happen, a kiss. The king kissing a mere servant, you would hang if a word came out. Even though it was letting the alarm ring in your head, it felt so good. Your eyes closed as you leaned in, letting the other guide you.

Small whines left you, as Raymond pushed his finger in further, testing the waters until another digit intruded, your arm was around the king's shoulder, holding onto him, while your other let loose from the grip around the man’s arm. Raymond worked your hole, adding a third finger as he prodded against the mushy walls. The little sounds that spilled from your lips were like a reward, stirring him on.

The pleasure you received was not really helping with the overstimulation you experienced not too long ago, your already hard cock twitched and leaked precum accompanied by breathy moans and tears at the corner of your eyes. As Raymond’s finger pushed knuckle deep inside, prodding against your inner walls as if searching for something, until he pressed into a spot that had your back arching in pleasure and a louder moan slipping from your lips. 

You obviously didn’t notice the way Raymond stared at you, fascinated and aroused. He pushed you over the edge by the small bundle of nerves, Raymond gulped at the things swarming his mind, all of them had you included just bend in different positions. The thought alone had his already hard cock leaking and twitching, but he knew he had to be patient as this was your first time.

A gentle caress on your spread and twitching thighs had you looking at the man, your attention was brought to the erect cock of the king, making you clench around Raymond’s fingers while you licked over your lip nervously. Your head was shrouded in the pleasured aftermath of your last orgasm, but also curiosity lingered inside of you, the curiosity to explore more than you usually had.

You pushed yourself up, holding your torso up while you leaned on your elbows, “What about you, your highness?” your hand pointed to the throbbing cock of said man, who glanced at his own arousal before focusing back on you, “Thoughtful of you, but I can guarantee that we have enough time ahead of us, that you can help me out another time,” his words were spoken in a pleased and teasing way. 

He pulled his digits out of you, you watched as he slowly licked his fingers while keeping eye contact with you. As his pinky left his lips, Raymond walked over to a dresser, yet the word he uttered was making you flush, “Delicious.”

When Raymond walked back over to the bed, he held a bottle with almost completely translucent liquid inside, oil that worked as a lubricant. A shuddering breath left you as Raymond stopped in his original place, his eyebrows slightly raised, “I assume you already know what this is, the question simply is– are you willing to go further?” there was a moment of silence, before you nodded followed by an audible “Yes,” and you meant it. 

The bottle was popped open, and your focus laid on the man in front of you, the way he used the oil on his entire length, before smearing some on and slightly in your hole, before the bottle was closed and disregarded. Raymond slowly kneeled between your legs, lifting them up to wrap around his hips, “Hold onto me if necessary,” were his last words as he gave his cock a few pumps, before he aligned  the cock head at your entrance. Without any more teasing, he pushed in his bulbous tip stretching you further, a slightly pained yet aroused moan left you while a grunt came from Raymond.

His figure leaned over your smaller form, as he held onto your waist with one hand and held himself over your with the other, slowly as he pushed his hips closer to you, whiny moans left your throat and deep grunts and groans left Raymond as his cock went deeper into your tight heat, “Fuck, you’re tight”

In this moment he didn’t want to do anything more than just bottom out inside of you with a swift thrust, but he did enjoy the way your hole clenched repeatedly around his cock, while your face was contoured into one of utmost pleasure and overstimulation, how your blunt nails digged into his shoulders. And when he finally buried his length inside of you, brushing against the same spot that had you seeing stars just a few minutes ago.

Raymond licked his lips, trying to stay focused as your hole clenched tightly around him, and your thighs shaking around his waist. He watched as a small spurt of watery cum came from your tip, dirtying your stomach. You let out barely audible mutters from your mouth, expression already showing how fucked out of pleasure you were, when the two of you barely even start.

The cock that was sheathed snug in your hole, made you feel full, something you never experienced before during sex. It felt so right, hell even perfect. Your eyes found the green ones of Raymond, a small smirk tugged on the other’s lips, “You’re taking it pretty well– you think you can take more?” you only nodded, unable to form words. You only felt how Raymond pulled back, your arms dropping from his warm shoulders, while now both hands held onto your waist.

You felt how his cock pulled almost completely out, only his tip stayed inside before he thrusted his entire length back inside, making your back arch and a loud moan erupting from your throat, as Raymond set a rough pace, groans and grunts leaving him, as he pounded you into the large warm bed. His grip on your thighs was harsh, his nails leaving small crescent marks on your plush skin. 

The sound of skin hitting skin and wet squelching accompanied by grunts and shameless loud moans reverberated around the bedchamber. Never did you feel so good during sex, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your back arching off of the bed and your legs even more of a shaking mess. Drool ran down at the side of your mouth, as you moaned and babbled, “More– fucking– give me more.” Raymond watched hungrily and in delight as you became even more of a mess beneath him, and because of him, so of course he wouldn’t deny your request of giving you more. 

You didn’t know when it happened, maybe after the dry orgasm rippled out of you was were you faded out of consciousness for a few seconds, before hearing the deep voice of Raymond, “Fuck–” a hand was placed on your cheek and as your eyes cleared, you saw the concerned face of the king hovering over you. “Are you alright?” His concern was palatable, stirring warmth in your stomach. A smile hardly formed on your lips, it looked a bit more goofy in Raymond’s eyes yet he was simply glad you seemed to be okay, which you confirmed with a small nod.

“All good,” you mumbled, while pressing the warm palm more against your cheek, your eyes closed as even just for a few hours you wanted to rest in peace even if it was beside the king. 

Raymond witnessed how you fell in a peaceful slumber, after the energy was drained out of you. He didn’t let you sleep in all the dirty sheets and not to talk about your body and the cum flowing out of your hole, as he pushed some strands from your forehead, he bit his lip uncertain on his next move, the lingering desire to follow what felt right. An internal battle was fought, but in the end he leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, before he pulled away and started a bath to start your aftercare. He couldn’t help the lingering touches, not even in the freshly cleaned bed, in which the two of you laid. 

Pulling your sleeping form closer, until your back was pressed against his chest. A kiss to your nape, before the king also fell asleep with you in his embrace. Which gave you a surprising shock the next morning, after you groggily woke up, only to find yourself not in your sleeping quarters, but also in the embrace of another.

As the events of the last night came crashing down on you, you couldn’t help the blush forming on your cheeks, it was the best feeling you ever had during sex even if it was rather short lived. Your legs felt numb and your lower half had a small sting as you moved, yet you turned around to look at the sleeping face of Raymond. 

You didn’t know what to do, but any decision you could’ve made was taken from you as the man stirred, before he opened his eyes to look at you. There was a short moment of silence, as you didn’t know what to say, before you mumbled a quick “Good morning,” which he returned. But when you thought he would push you away, the opposite happened instead, he pulled you closer. 

“How about– you become more than a servant?” Raymond asked you, making you frown, “Like.. a bed warmer?” you asked confused which enlightened an amused scoff from the king, “No– more than that,” he whispered.

This was the moment your relationship with the king started, days, weeks even months passed since that day. You found yourself a lot more in the presence of the other man, in his embrace. Until one day servants rushed around nervously, like they were walking on thin ice. You were confused until the shrill screams of none other than Alesia reverberated through the castle hallways. 

You stood by a window on the first floor, as you watched how the former queen was kicked out of the castle. You heard from Raymond that the divorce papers were already signed a long while ago, yet they kept the facade of a marriage to not cause any uproar in the kingdom. A warm presence accompanied you by the window, as you glanced over you saw that it was Raymond, who placed a hand on your lower back, simply watching how his ex-wife made a scene with guards and servants around, with a certain cold dismissiveness as he watched everything unfold. 

The furious eyes of Alesia wandered until they found not only you, but also Raymond by your side. She only glared, before swiftly turning around and entering the carriage, a few feet behind her, a servant you’ve seen a few times around while you worked, entering the carriage after her and closing the door. Your eyebrows furrowed at what happened, your focus quickly on the man beside you, “Why are you sending one of your servants off with her?” you were curious, as you glanced at the carriage that was pulled away from the entrance.

“Well you weren’t the first and definitely not the last man to warm her bed, so why not send her most recent plaything off with her,” Raymond said casually, as his arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. “Why didn’t you send her off with one of the others or me..?” you were obviously confused as you were not better than the servant. 

A soft melodic chuckle left Raymond, his hand gently rubbing your waist, “You’re not just any plaything– not even a plaything anymore. You’re mine and I had my eyes on you first,” were Raymond’s words as he looked at you with a warmth in his eyes, which made your cheeks flush. As the other started to walk, you quickly fell into his steps, as you walked down the corridor, “So.. about what you said–” you stopped yourself as you looked up at him, Raymond only shook his head lightly while he smiled, “I’ll explain it to you– maybe during breakfast together?”

You nodded a smile tugging at your own lips, “You better,” you threatened lightheartedly, making Raymond place a kiss on the top of your head.

[kthologue]

all mine — gojo satoru

synopsis. It’s the exchange event and gojo doesn’t like how that kyoto boy is looking at you. 

contents.  fluff, jealous!gojo, minor male oc, loosely based on that one jujutsu scroll, satoru is really insufferable and problematic but in his defense he is lovesick

gojo satoru is seething. he knows that you’re good looking, but he doesn’t need the entire world to know that either. if it were up to him, your beauty would be for his eyes only. 

especially not that kyoto third year who has been eyeing you since your arrival.

it was sickening, really. and to add salt to the wound, you have been oblivious to it all. one moment, gojo has his arms draped around your shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, you were being whisked away by that third year.

“please don’t do what i think you're trying to do,” shoko’s unamused voice breaks his train of thought. her knowing gaze made gojo chuckle.

“who, me? why do you assume i’m plotting something?” gojo feigns innocence, hoping his friend couldn’t sense the vicious wave of cursed energy that was leaking out of him. 

shoko doesn’t bother telling him that his usual sky blue eyes were darker, clouded with annoyance or whatever angsty emotion he was dealing with. suguru snorts at his best friend’s silent torment.

“he’s kinda cute,” shoko places a hand on her hip while she observes you conversing with the brown haired third year from kyoto. he was probably a clan kid, judging by his traditional kimono design for a uniform. “you think [name]’s into him?” she eggs gojo on with a smirk on her lips. 

suguru bumps his shoulder against hers as a silent warning.

it takes a moment for satoru to process shoko’s conclusion, the realization evident on his face as his eyes slowly widened. 

“like hell she is.” satoru’s fist clench and he thinks that he will explode if you keep entertaining that stupid kyoto boy. why waste your time with a weakling, when satoru, who was much worthier of your attention was standing just a couple of meters away in the same courtyard? satoru glares at you from above his glasses, hoping you can feel just an ounce of the anger he feels. 

you don’t. 

he thinks he dies a little bit on the inside. in fact, he thinks you’re purposefully messing with his mind with the way you playfully smack the kyoto boy’s shoulder with the same soft hand that gojo has dreamed of holding since his first year. 

“stop being dramatic and let's warm up. we have team battles today.” annoyance is evident in suguru’s voice. yaga had warned the duo that if either of them acted up during the exchange event, the consequences would be dire.

“dramatic?” he scoffs, his glare not wavering. “she has the audacity to look beautiful in the presence of other men. she’s doing this on purpose.” his arms are crossed now.

exasperated looks are exchanged by his two friends.

screw whatever yaga said. without wasting another moment, satoru forced his way in your direction, ignoring suguru's attempt to stop him. shoko, however, held suguru back. "don't," she said, her eyes fixed on gojo. "i want to see what this idiot will do."

suguru sighed, acknowledging that gojo deserved whatever was coming his way.

you realize that perhaps you are too lenient with gojo satoru. you have forgiven every stunt he has pulled, but the look on his face right now as he approaches you with a wide grin makes you sense that might end now.

“wifey!” he closes the space between you. you furrow your eyebrows at the unfamiliar pet name. “how could you leave me for some kyoto scum?” 

you choke on air at his blatant insult to the boy in front of you. 

“ah, i apologize, i couldn’t help myself but steal her when i saw her. i’m ishikawa daisuke–”

“what a bold statement to say to her husband!” gojo doesn’t spare ishikawa a second glance, choosing to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. too shocked to move, you let gojo relish in the intimate action. 

you’re equally as surprised as ishikawa at satoru’s declaration, a strangled noise escaping from your mouth. the idea of gojo as your husband… it was enough to make your brain short circuit. where did he even get the idea from?

ishikawa’s eyes are blown wide, any semblance of self confidence thrown out of the window,  “i-i apologize for the misunderstanding. i wasn’t aware you were already married so young.” he stutters, bowing deeply to gojo who is smirking with a hand on his hip. 

“damn right we are. i knew i had to tie the knot with this beauty the moment i met her.” satoru proudly exclaims, his gaze softening when it returns on you. the initial shock is starting to wear off and you are shooting gojo your harshest glare. satoru’s antics seem to never end.

“isn’t my wifey the cutest?” he coos down at you, tapping your nose with a single finger. you are tempted to bite it off. 

“gojo satoru, you are the most insufferable man that i know,” you point at his chest angrily. “the most delusional too.” you mutter.

 he places a pained hand to his chest,  “you know other men? you’re killing me sweetheart.”

ishikawa coughs awkwardly, reminding you of his presence. you give him your best sympathetic look.

satoru, annoyed that your attention is off of him once again narrowed his eyes at the brown haired boy, “shouldn’t you be practicing with the rest of the kyoto weaklings? i recommend you to do so if you don’t want to be killed on the battlefield today.” satoru’s voice is an octave lower. 

“satoru!” you’re startled by his indirect threat, quick to defend your senior who looked like he was moments away from pissing his pants. 

“i-if you will excuse me.” ishikawa bows deeply once again before scurrying away without another word. you watch him hopelessly. the moment ishikawa is gone, satoru’s intimidating aura is replaced with a pout as he crosses his arms bitterly. 

“if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” satoru exhales forcefully with a hmph. his arms are still crossed and if it weren’t for the fact that he had acted utterly out of line, you would almost go as far as calling him cute. 

“excuse me?”

“you were trying to get my attention,” he points out. “you don’t have to y’know.” my eyes are always on you. the words die on his lips.

a scoff leaves your mouth, disbelief is evident on your face, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you do!”

“are you jealous or something?” the idea that the great gojo satoru was sick with envy amused a cruel part inside of you.

“who? me? what could that country bumpkin have that i don’t?” he sounds almost offended at your accusation. 

“he’s nice.”

“i can be nice!" satoru whines. there is desperation in his eyes. "i bought a can of tuna for that stray cat the other week, remember?”

“yeah, but he’s nice to people. he’s also polite and-”

“alright i get it! you don’t have to keep talking about him.” satoru's eyebrows furrow in sync with the way his bottom lip slightly juts out. “i just didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“and how did he look at me?” 

satoru grumbles. was it not obvious enough? “his gaze was devouring you like you were his or something. honestly, what a loser. he’ll have to get in line.”

frustration laces your words as you challenge him, “you can’t just march around scaring off all of the guys that i talk to. i want you to admit that you were jealous."

satoru's jaw drops.

"you can't be serious." he protests, cerulean eyes widening. "i'm starting to think you like torturing me." you smile at his comment. you were indeed doing this on purpose.

"oh but i am completely serious," you reply with faux innocence, eyes blinking at him. “satoru.” you enunciate each syllable of his name, dealing the finishing blow.

he folds. you were being so unfair.

"i was jealous." he confesses petulantly. your grin widens as he admits his jealousy. the victory, however, is short-lived as satoru seizes the opportunity to sneak in another flirty comment. “it’s not my fault my dream girl happens to be everyone else’s.”

a groan escapes your lips, and you take your hand, lightly flicking his forehead. satoru accepts the physical contact happily.

"when will you give this bit up?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. 

“when i finally put a ring on that finger,” satoru winks. you regard his words with skepticism, oblivious to the fact that he was dead set on it.  gojo satoru was going to make you his, or at least die trying.

remember spring days masterlist

extra notes:

prior to the exchange event, utahime actually warned ishikawa that you were off limits. she didn’t elaborate why.

poor ishikawa seemed to be the target of most of satoru’s attacks during the team battle.

tokyo won the event by an overwhelming amount.

“i deserve victory kisses for carrying tokyo to victory, right [name]?” satoru had teased you on the way home.

you pretend to think about it, “hmm i think suguru’s curses were quite helpful. he’s the one that deserves the kisses.”

satoru had never moved faster in his entire life to cover your mouth with the palm of his hand and whisk you away from his best friend who had joined in your joke.

[emotionalhottiee]

You’re my little secret 💋.

Part 1

(inspired by “My little Secret” by Xscape (kind of).

Warning: 18+ (This content may include explicit material).

DISCLAIMER: This oneshot is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Jey Uso x Ashleigh (OC)

It’s not really a secret, it’s just nobody’s business.

Being a woman, working in the nightclub scene isn’t for the weak. Yes of course the tips are amazing, but the men you have to deal with on a daily basis will make you homicidal. From the stingy motherfuckas that order one bottle for 20 plus people. To the ones who don’t tip (honestly they’re the worst).To the creepy ass men who think that just because you work in a strip club that you are dying for any type of attention from them. To the ones that think you’re supposed to want to sleep with them, because they have “money”. Those are the type of men i wish i never had to interact with, but this is the job I choose so it comes with the territory. Now I don’t know how most clubs work, but here at Queen of Diamonds in Atlanta I don’t have to worry about any of that because I have my uces. My incredibly buff Samoan bouncers/ Top flight security of the world aka my personal body guards; Joshua & Jon, my twinsies. They were here long before I started bartending here. But ever since I’ve been working here, they have been my lifesavers on more than one occasion. I love those boys…one maybe a little more than the other ;).

“What’s up Sis” I heard from the other side of the empty club. Recognizing that damn voice from anywhere, “wazzup JonJon” i hollered back. Followed by laughter seeing Jon’s face scrunched up at the nickname. He acts like he’s hates it but deep down inside he loves it. Once my laughter settled my eyes made their way over to Joshua, Jon’s twin brother. An instant smile was plastered all over my face. Josh made his way over to my bar where i was setting up, getting ready for the night. “Wass good babygirl” he said. Pulling me into a big bear hug. “Hey Joshy pooh” i said gleefully wrapping my arms around his neck. We stood embracing each other for what felt like an eternity, but it was only for a few seconds. He smacked his lips at the sound of the nickname i gave him. They know they love my nicknames.

It is a quarter to ten and the club is officially about to open for the night. As i was finishing up washing the rest of my shot glasses out. I felt some rough ass skinny arms wrap around me. My skin was crawling with disgust because i literally knew who it was. “Wassup girl” Que the Club Dj tried to whisper in my ear, as i struggled to push him off of me. I need to start lifting. I thought to myself because i could not get this man off of me. “I thought i told yo ass, DO NOT TOUCH ME!” I said very loudly.

I don’t understand why this man cant get a fucking clue. Don’t get me wrong he’s not a bad looking guy… It’s just his horrible personality that ruins it completely. He puts his hands up in defeat, as if he didn’t want any issues. I was wondering what caused him to switch up so quickly. But I didn’t have to look very far. Just as he started to walk away. I looked up at the club entrance to see Josh standing up jaw and fist clenched tighter than i have ever seen. But I’m not complaining, I love seeing my “man” get all worked up about me! My pussy started throbbing, just thinking about him. But i can’t have him right now, the club is about to start and people will surely notice us missing. I looked back up at Josh, letting him know with my eyes that i was fine. He slowly started to relax, unclenching his hands and jaw. He was silently telling me okay, but i knew he wasn’t over it. He couldn’t stand Que!

Part 2

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 18

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: +18 nsfw content, p in v, ridding

notes: it’s been a while since I posted this fic, but I was on vacation and right now, I’m stuck writing chapter 19, like I already have Birdie planned out but chapter 19 is like stuck there and I don’t know when I will be posting the next chapter, I hope that in two weeks time. So let’s pray

Sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, this was published unedited

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

You clung to the blanket that Satoru had given you after changing into one of his shirts, no matter how hard you tried you were unable to stop shivering.

But your pulse and breathing were agitated after the encounter with Naoya. You clenched your fists and cursed yourself for letting it get to you so much.

“Here you have.” Satoru entered the room with a cup of chocolate in his hands. 

You smiled and grabbed it, feeling the smell of chocolate and the warmth of the cup. “Thank you ‘Toru.”

He sat down next to you on the bed and put an arm around your shoulder, while gently caressing your arm. “Do you want to talk now about what happened?”

You took a deep breath, feeling Satoru's presence and comfort with you, and you began to tell the story of what happened.

2 hours earlier 

You took the wine Utahime gave you and drank it. The taste of the wine went down your throat and you felt a sweet taste run through your mouth. Your lips became slightly sticky and you ran your tongue over them. Utahime was drinking her wine and your eyes drifted to search for Satoru’s figure, hoping he would come soon.

You didn’t mind spending time with Utahime, but your heart ached thinking Satoru needed to face his parents on his own once again. You wanted to stand beside him.

“He will be here soon.” Utahime smiled. 

“Yeah… I just.” You sighed. “I wanted to be with him.” 

“I get it.” She nodded. “But now, relax and try this one.” She gave you another glass.

“Utahime.” You cried. “I think it is too much.” 

“It is not.” She smiled. “Take a sip, it’s really good.” She said drinking it. 

You did as she told and in fact it was good, it tasted really expensive. “It’s really good.” 

“Yeah right?” She grinned.

“Oh, there is no way.” A voice spoke and your eyes slowly opened.

Your hands started to sweat and your breathing started to be irregular.

“Ugh Naoya.” Utahime spoke. “What do you want? Go to another place and bother someone else.” 

Naoya laughed and the laughter, which was familiar to your discomfort, stabbed you like knives. “I’m here to say hi to my old worker.” You saw how a smiled crossed his face.

Utahime turned to look at you. “You know him?” 

“Yes…”

“Doll…” He walked towards you. “Last time we met your friends were pretty rude, but I know Utahime won’t do shit, so why don’t we speak?” 

Utahime ground her teeth and positioned herself next to you. “I don't know what the fuck you want, Naoya. But get out of here.”

“I just want to talk.” He said smirking. “Did you come as Utahime’s plus one?” He questioned. “That seems unlikely… oh.” He gasped. “Don’t tell me you came with the Gojo kid?” 

You frowned. “That doesn't matter to you.”

He laughed. “So yeah…” He scratched his chin. “Did you just jump on him like the bitch you are?”

You could feel the gazes of those present rest on you. Your breathing began to accelerate and unlike in class, where you had behaved calmly and had ignored what they said about you, you couldn't there. You felt enormous helplessness.

“Gojo probably needed somewhere warm to stick his…”

“Naoya! Shut up!” Utahime shouted out. 

Utahime's voice only caused the stares to grow and your nervousness to increase. You had wanted to go unnoticed, to go there to support Satoru, but now…

“What? It’s the truth… Rumors say that he likes to sleep around.” He smirked. ““He probably saw it as easy to get under the dress of a poor thing like her.” She took one of the glasses from her and took a sip. “Who would want to date a woman like her? Two jobs, scholarship, living in a one-room apartment, abandoned by her father, dead mother.”

“You stupid piece of…!” Utahime tried to slap him but you held her hand.

“Utahime… no.” 

You didn't want to cause any more fuss, you didn't want it to escalate any further. You squeezed Utahime's hand tightly, feeling like tears had begun to fall.

Why?

Why are you crying?

You weren’t the type to cry, you could hold yourself pretty well but right there, you were feeling every emotion possible. You were ashamed of what Naoya was saying, ashamed because everyone was looking and hearing those words. You didn’t want Satoru to have bigger burdens, he already had enough dealing with his family matters, you didn’t want now for him to be pointed out for dating someone like you. 

Without realizing, you started to shake, as if you were out in the cold of a winter night. Utahime quickly noticed it and stood next to you, trying to calm you. 

“Naoya you better leave or I will make sure they kick you out of here.” Utahime said loudly. 

Time began to distort around you and when your mind reconnected you felt a familiar warmth next to you, a relaxing caress and safe eyes.

Present time

“That’s it…” You whispered, waiting for Satoru to say something or do anything, but his silence was killing you. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you saying that?” Then he spoke with a harsher tone than the one he usually used, one that made you feel intimidated.

“I… I caused a fuss.” 

He moved in the bed and positioned himself in front of you. “Listen.” He said your name while holding your hands. “You didn’t cause a fuss, Naoya and Naoya alone did it, okay?” You looked at him. “Please love, tell me you understand.” He raised his hand to your cheek. 

Your stomach turned as you heard that word from his lips again, “love”. The way he had said it, on both occasions, made you lose all sense of the world and make you feel dizzy. God, you loved that man and you didn't want to let him go, you didn't want to lose him for anything in the world.

Satoru's eyes widened, panic showing in them. "What happened? Why are you crying?" He said, wiping away the tears that had wet your cheeks.

“I love you.” You said and you noticed Satoru’s surprise look on his face. “I love you ‘Toru and I am so afraid… I am afraid of losing what it’s starting, I don’t want to lose you, lose us.” You hugged him. “I was so afraid, because I don’t know your world and… everyone was looking and I thought… what if his family finds out about who I am about my family.” 

You stopped talking, to hug him even more, if that was even possible. “And I felt so small, so vulnerable. I didn’t want to cause a scene, I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

Satoru broke the hug and cradled your face, he kissed your tears. "Don't say that." He told you in a whisper. “You would never be a burden to me.” He emphasized the words “never” and then placed a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you." He whispered. 

Satoru wrapped his arms around you while caressing your back and kissing your head, it felt good, very good. You would like to stay that way forever, to feel his warmth, his love, for all of it to invade you.

“You wanna take a bath?” He whispered.

“With bubbles?” You looked at him. 

Satoru chuckled and smiled. “If you want it that way, I will do it.”

“Thank you…” You kissed his lips. 

“Anything for you my love.” He kissed you. 

The cold caught you as soon as Satoru left you, even though you were wrapped in a blanket you felt his absence. You watched from the bed as Satoru prepared the bathroom, he was still wearing his suit pants and his white shirt. He looked so good. 

“I can feel you staring.” Satoru looked at you from over the shoulder. 

“I was just thinking that my boyfriend looks so good right now.” You said.

“Well my girlfriend looks better, she was stunning tonight, a real queen, a goddess.” He walked up to the bed and placed his arms on either side of your head. “The bath is ready…” He whispered against your lips.

 “Will you bathe with me?” You asked him. “I want to do it like in the movies, to cuddle and relax.”

“Of course.” 

You stood up from the bed and took off your clothes, you didn’t mind anymore. Satoru did the same, although you weren't embarrassed to strip naked in front of him because he had already seen and touched every part of you, it was still hard not to feel nervous when you looked at him. Turning your head, you walked to the bathtub and got into it, so that a few seconds later Satoru got in with you behind you.

He leaned down and his lips gently brushed against your shoulder before he began to rub your back. The touch was tender but deliberate, each stroke of the sponge carrying a silent intimacy that seemed to envelop you both. In the tranquility of that moment, the closeness between the two of you felt palpable, as if the outside world had become insignificant, as if it had been erased and only you and Satoru existed. You could feel the warmth of him against your skin, his soft breath against your neck.

You wanted that moment of intimacy to last forever. To keep it in your mind and in your soul. 

“Babe you are going to fall asleep.”

A new nickname, how many did he have to keep calling you? But now you didn't care, you liked them, every one of them from birdie to my love, all of them.

“It’s just… it feels so good.” You closed your eyes, letting everything invade you.

“I’m so glad…” He whispered against your skin. 

You could feel his hot breath against your wet skin, how your skin bristled under that warm breath. Satoru placed wet kisses on your shoulder, while he continued soaping your body, treating you like you were royalty, a queen.

“Okay… I think it is time for you to rest.” He moved behind you and got off the bath. 

“But…” You pouted.

“No buts.” He kissed your cheeks. “Let’s get ourselves dry and sleep okay?” 

That night you gave yourself completely, letting yourself be cared for and loved without reservation. Every word Satoru whispered and every soft touch of his fingers left a lasting imprint on your skin, etching itself into your heart and soul. 

The warmth of his body wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was an eerily familiar sensation, evoking memories of home, peace, and a deep sense of security.

The dream welcomed you like an old friend and in the arms of the one who had captivated your heart you managed to rest and let all worries go away.

When the first light of day began to filter through the large window of Satoru's room, your eyes stung, that light was annoying, you wanted to continue sleeping, dreaming of dreams that you would later forget. But as you turned to circle Satoru's torso, you found the cold sheets next to you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked around the room. But it was completely empty, there was no sign of him.

You got out of bed and walked to the kitchen in search of your white haired boy. A smile appeared on your lips when you saw him sitting in one of the seats on the island. He was wearing gray sweatpants, his torso was exposed and his hair was a mess.

With a slow step, trying not to let Satoru hear you, you approached him. When you were close enough to him, you wrapped your arms around him and let out a “bo!” causing him to get scared.

You smiled at him. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” He kissed you. “Did you sleep well?” 

“So good…” You closed your eyes, enjoying his hug. “You look good this morning.” You said looking at him.

“I know…” You rolled your eyes with a smile drawn on your face. “You liked this morning view princess?”

You bite your lip and nodded. “A lot.” 

You knocked your kiss together, feeling how this one was deeper and hotter than the one you just shared. 

Satoru ran his hands under your thighs and sat you down on the kitchen island, causing a small moan to escape your lips as the cold marble collided with your skin. He placed himself between your legs and began to draw drawings on your legs, while the kiss you shared was filled with passion and heat.

His hand began to go up until it got under the hem of the borrowed t-shirt that you had taken from him last night and his fingertips, hot like a burning fire, traced your abdomen, causing a soft but lustful sigh to escape from your lips.

“‘Toru…” You gasped as his hand started to go up on your body.

“What love don't you like it?” You saw his smirk, his blue eyes now dark with the desire that had settled in them.

Your head snapped back when you felt his fingers pinch your nipple. “Oh…”

Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, making you stick with your legs on either side of his body. Your body was beginning to burn under his touch, feeling how his hands began to explore your body.

“I love how good you look with this t-shirt on, but I need you without it.” He whispered against your ear, his soft, hot breath hitting you.

“Take it off…” You said under your breath.

Satoru clacked and he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, taking it off and throwing it away. The difference in temperature between the environment and your body, which was almost on fire, was evident, and a chill ran down your spine. 

Your fingers tangled in his white hair and he began to kiss your neck and then your collarbone, biting and sucking on the places where his lips landed causing your body to react. 

His right hand pinched your nipple again and you pulled at his hair, feeling the arousal corrupt you. His tongue began to descend along the edge of your breasts until it reached your nipple, which was already swollen from the pinches that Satoru had not stopped giving it.

Your legs surrounded his hips at the same time his mouth sucked on your nipple, you were too excited, too hot. Your hips began to move instinctively, seeking friction with Satoru. You knew he probably was hard rock down there.

“F-uck…” Satoru trembled when you touched his boner.

“Sa-toru… please.” You said moving your hips again against his boner. 

You could feel his grip tighten and his shoulders tense with every movement you made begging him. The atmosphere had become fucking hot, your bodies were burning and you had begun to sweat, while your hot breaths had become disordered.

Satoru pulled away from you and began to pull down his sweatpants. “Get off and turn around.” Your skin crawled as you heard his husky voice and the authoritative tone he had used.

That turned you on even more. You got down off the island and got off your underwear, leaving you completely naked. You felt Satoru's hands on your hips, as his thumb gently traced circles on it. Even though the atmosphere was charged with lust and excitement, Satoru was still delicate and careful with his movements. 

You felt his breath hit your skin and instinctively arched your back and neck back against his bare torso. “You seem so needy?” He bit your shoulder and you pursed your lips. “Come on little bird, what do you want?” You hated that he hesitated like that, you hated it but at the same time you loved it.

“Sato-ru…” You heavily breathed. “I… need you.” 

He chuckled and his grip around your hips tightened. “That’s what you want? Huh? You want me inside of you?” 

You nodded. “Please ‘Toru…” You looked at him with crystallized eyes and you could see how the fire lit in his. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He said, smashing his lips against yours at the same time he entered you. 

The moan in your throat was drowned in the wet kiss you shared. One of Satoru's hands left your hip and began to move up your abdomen, burning every place his fingertips touched. His hand came up to your chin and he grabbed it, breaking the kiss.

“You are taking me so well princess.” He smirked and your nails dug into the island counter, feeling him move inside you.

“Ah…” You moaned as Satoru's hand landed on your neck and made you throw your head back.

Satoru was rough and his movements were strong and penetrating, each thrust he gave felt like it went deeper than the previous one, causing your eyes to rotate inside your skull.

His left hand surrounded your neck, while his right hand rested on your lower abdomen. His mouth laid on your ear as he moaned and said your name softly. You bit your lip feeling each thrust, you wanted to be able to turn around and dig your nails into his skin, but you had to settle for being that way.

In the place only your gasps could be heard, mixed with the clash of your naked skin. 

You could feel how Satoru had grown more confident than the first night you spent together. You enjoyed that night, you couldn't deny it, Satoru had made you reach orgasm and he had made you feel like a queen but you had felt that he wasn't letting go completely, that he was holding back on you. But at that moment? Oh no, at that moment he was making you feel everything.

“Fuck baby!” He said deep inside of you. “I need to see your pretty face.” 

You protested when it came out of you, you wanted more, you wanted everything. Satoru grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that you were both face to face. His face was agitated, his hair on his forehead and cheeks were crimson red. 

Without letting you breathe for long, he grabbed your legs and put them on his hips and then entered again. You stifled a scream and buried your nose in his neck, it was the first time you were doing it in that position.

“C’mon babe, let me see your face.” He said as he moved his hips.

You looked at with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. “Oh Satoru!” You tightened your grip on his shoulders as he moved in and out of you. “Fuck…”

“That’s my girl, taking me so well, doing that beautiful face.” He said biting your bottom lip and then kissing you. 

He came out of you again and you felt how you moved around the room and then sat on the couch. 

“Baby, do you know what I want you to do?” You looked at him through your tears and nodded.

You took his member in your hand and gently lined it up with your entrance and then let yourself fall into it. Your entire body reacted, with that position you felt bigger and deeper. Satoru raised his hands and began to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples while you moved your hips seeking orgasm.

Satoru’s face was red and his eyes were so dark, full of desire and pleasure, and completely focus on your chest as you were riding him. You grabbed his face and kissed him, in a burning kiss thirsty for pleasure, accelerating your movements even more.

“Fuck babe.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna cum…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

You let out a moan, you had come all over him and your entire body was vibrating and leaving you without energy. Satoru pulled out of you and took off the condom masturbating a bit more, cuming on your abdomen.

Neither of you moved, your chests rose and fell and you rested your body on his, closing your eyes and resting.

“You were…” You began. “So rough.” 

“You didn’t like it?” He said, and you were able to hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “I love it. You were rough but gentle.” You looked at him.

He sighed with relief and smiled. “I'm glad, I thought you didn't enjoy it.” He kissed your lips. 

“We're all sweaty…” You whispered against his lips. 

“Yes, we should shower.” You nodded. “Round two?” He asked. 

“Were you not satisfied?” You asked. 

“Oh yes I was, but I will always need more of you.” 

You couldn't help but laugh when Satoru started kissing and making ribs all over your body, so much so that you felt your belly hurt from laughing so much. After that you both took a shower and yes, there was one more round and in the afternoon you spent watching movies and to your surprise, Satoru was more emotional than you had thought, since you couldn't help but cry after watching La La Land. 

When the sky began to turn orange and pink, Satoru took you back home. He had insisted that you stay the night but you had no clothes, only the dress from the party and the giant sweatpants and t-shirt that he wore. Satoru had lent you. So at the door of Kyoko's house you said goodbye with a tender kiss, wishing to see each other again the next day.

As soon as you stepped inside the house Kyoko appeared and rushed to you with a huge smile drawn on her face.

“Who was it?” She asked. “Did you enjoy the night? You looked like an absolute princess.” She smiled. 

You bit your lip, remembering the night, you couldn't keep hiding the fact that you had seen Naoya and you couldn't pretend like nothing had happened either. Kyoko quickly noticed your look of circumstance and the smile on her face disappeared.

“Something happened right?” You nodded. “Okay let’s talk about it.”

“Yeah…” 

Kyoko took the dress from your hand and you both headed to her room, where you sat face to face.

“Did something happen with Satoru's family?” She asked first.

You shook your head. “Not at all… I only met his grandparents but they were nice.” You told her. “No… the thing is that I… I met Naoya there.” 

Kyoko looked at you, as if she was holding her breath.The more she looked at you, the more nervous you became, you felt every inch of your being speed up and your breathing become more and more erratic. You knew what she would say and you knew how she would react when she found out you had met at the club.

“Oh…” She finally said. “Did he do something?! Did he try something?”

You sighed. “He was his usual disgusting self.” You looked at her. “And he said some mean things, but… doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. If it affected you it does matter.” She held your hands.

“Utahime was there and then I talked about everything with Satoru, so it’s alright.” You smiled trying to calm her down.

“You are sure?” She questioned.

“I’m sure…” You looked at her. “There is something else, I never told you this but… I also met him at the club that time.” 

Kyoko opened her mouth. “What?!” 

“Kyoko, relax please.” You tried to calm her down. 

“No, no, you are telling me that asshole appeared there and… wait was when you got hurt on your wrist?” You avoided her gaze. “Was him?!” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because you were going to get worried and it was pointless, besides you were having a good night I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” 

She sighed, obviously mad. “I don’t understand why you would do that. I’m your best friend, if you get hurt I will obviously get mad and want to kill someone, especially that someone.” 

“Well… sorry okay?” You whispered. “But… I just…”

“Stop, don’t say it was nothing or that I didn’t deserve to be worried because that’s something I decide.” She looked at you. “Next time, I don’t care what it is, I don’t care, you must tell me. Alright?” 

You felt your eyes getting teary and nodded. “Yeah… I will.” 

Kyoko hugged you and you let yourself be enveloped by her essence and warmth, closing your eyes on her chest. You stood there in silence for a while and then resumed your casual conversation. Before you knew it, your conversation had gone on for longer than expected and you knew that tomorrow you would wake up with dark circles under your eyes.

That week you spent it between Kyoko's house and Satoru's. Your boyfriend insisted on picking you up from work and that you stay the night with him. You didn’t mind, you actually liked spending time with him, the quality time both of you were creating was comforting. 

But spending more time with Satoru didn't stop you from spending time with your friends, and you also found time to be with Kyoko and now your extended group, which also included Shoko and Utahime.

You couldn't wait for the weekend you would spend with Satoru in Kamakura, and show him the place where you were raised.

Your only hope for one thing, that made your heart feel in your mouth.

Everything needed to be okay, you just wanted that.

notes: bit of nsfw content before the things that will happen in the future, hehehe

— comment if you want to be tagged

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[astraljedi]

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh? (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw)

Bewitched Part 1.5 | Part 1 Here | Masterlist

Summary: Sadie is restless and frustrated, weeks had passed from her one night stand with Rooster and the memories of him linger in her head. She thinks Rooster is gone for a long assignment, hoping she can sweat it out, but then she meets again with the brown eyes that had been taunting her in her sleep.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female! OC

Warnings: Contains 18+ content. This is just smut without plot. Female receiving oral and just Bradley talking her through it basically

Word Count: 1.3k

Song: Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift

A/N: I was bored and before I finished part 2, I had to get this out. -

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly I choose you and me religiously

"Watch yourself while I fuck you."

Sadie whimpered, her nails digging into his back as the sight of them—of how perfectly they moved together—pushed her over the edge. She bit down on his shoulder, muffling the sound of her moan as she shattered around him.

"Bradshaw," she whimpered, breathless,

Sadie jolted upright in bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Jesus. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, the memory of Rooster still lingering—taunting. It hadn't stopped. Not since that night at the bar a few weeks ago.

The clock glowed, 4:47 a.m. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and it was only Tuesday. She barely had the energy to drag herself out of bed. Walking into her bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror, her matching silk pajamas wrinkled from all the tossing and turning. She’d tried everything to get him out of her system. Melatonin. A vibrator. Her own fingers. Nothing compared to him. Nothing brought her over the edge the way he did.

"Fuck you, Bradshaw," she muttered before splashing cold water on her face.

She hadn’t seen him in a week. A quick assignment had pulled her away, and when she got back, he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d been sent off too. Maybe he’d be gone for months. That would be a relief—time to sweat out this frustration, to forget the way he felt, the way he sounded when he moaned her name.

By sunrise, she was already at the base, changing into her workout gear. Weightlifting seemed like the only way to shut off her thoughts before a long day of mentoring the new aviators and finishing up reports.

By sunset, her reports were locked away in her desk, and exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. Still, one thing kept looping through her mind.

"Shit, Sadie," he muttered, his forehead dropping to hers as he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. 

Sadie's breath hitched, her fingers slipping down to the open buttons of his Hawaiian shirt, fisting the fabric. "Harder," she pleaded, chasing the coil tightening inside her.

“Stop it, Sadie.” She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, trying to rub the memories out of her head. "I need food," she muttered, grabbing the straps of her bag and heading out of her small office.

By the time she got to her favorite sushi place, her order was already waiting. She had a plan: get home, eat sushi, drink wine, and finished the romance book that had been sitting on her to be read pile.

But then—

"Sadie?"

Goosebumps prickled up her arms, her breath catching in her throat. That voice. That familiar, goddamn delicious voice that taunted her dreams for weeks. 

She turned, meeting Rooster’s gaze. He stood there with a brown bag in hand, clearly fresh from the liquor store next door. His mustache was neatly trimmed, his toned arms flexing as he carried the bag like it weighed nothing. Her core clenched at the memory of those same arms lifting her against the door.

Sadie swallowed hard. "Hey."

Rooster nodded toward her bag. "Sushi?"

"Yeah. Been craving it for weeks." She chuckled, heading toward her Jeep, aware that Rooster was trailing behind her. "Beer run?"

"Yeah, just got back from an assignment." He scratched the back of his neck. "Some of my friends are meeting at the beach for a late-night surf before reality kicks back in tomorrow."

"Sounds nice." she mumbled, watching how his muscles flexed every time he moved.

"You should come."

Her heart stuttered, but she shook her head. "I appreciate the invite, but I really should get home."

She opened her car door, setting her takeout bag on the floor from the passenger door. Sadie slipped into the driver's side but before she could shut it, Rooster’s hand caught the edge.

"Why can’t you look me in the eyes, Sadie?"

Her stomach twisted at his words, not facing his eyes. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bradshaw."

"Don’t fight it." His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, sending a shiver down her spine. "I’ve been craving something for weeks too." He leaned in, his nose grazing the skin of her neck as he inhaled her scent. "Something sweet."

"Bradshaw," she groaned, frustrated.

He silenced her with his lips, one hand restraining hers, the other slipping to the back of her neck, keeping her close. His fingers skimmed the hem of her shirt, teasing up to her breast.

"We can’t do this," she gasped, pulling away, breathless.

Rooster opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a quick kiss.

"Not here, at least."

Then, with a smirk, she climbed over to the passenger seat and patted the driver’s seat.

"My place."

The moment they burst through her front door, Rooster was on her—his hands gripping her waist, his mouth devouring hers like he’s been starved. He doesn’t dare pull away if he doesn’t have to.

He tugs her shirt over her head and pins her against the cold kitchen island, his body pressing flush against hers.

“I need to taste you.” Rooster growls, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter.

His shirt is the first thing to go and thrown over to the floor somewhere, her bottoms following right after. He sinks to his knees before her, her glistening, soaked cunt now level with his hungry gaze.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he murmurs, spreading her legs wider and placing them over his shoulders. “Couldn’t get you off my mind all these weeks.”

He presses wet, lingering kisses along her thighs, teasing her, his breath hot against her sensitive skin.

“You have bewitched me, Sadie.”

Her head tips back as she grips the edge of the counter, a whimper slipping past her lips.

“Bradshaw, please.”

Rooster groans, drinking in the sight of her. “Baby, let me take this in.” He breathes her in, voice thick with need. “Let me memorize you, spread open, dripping, pleading for me. Bet those fingers didn’t fill you the way I did.”

Sadie groans, pushing the heels of her feet on his back, trying to pull him closer to where she needed him.

His thumb brushes against her slick folds, his mouth inches away from where she needs him. “It’s impossible to forget how well you took me... how your walls squeezed around me.”

Sadie’s was about to beg again, but then, his lips were on her.

She gasped, her hand flying to the back of his head, gripping his golden curls. Rooster groans into her, his tongue working in perfect rhythm, tasting, savoring, devouring her like it was his life’s mission.

His hands keep her legs in place, holding her exactly where he wants her.

The familiar ache coils deep in her belly, her body trembling as she inches closer to release.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is muffled against her. “Be a good girl and let go.”

He slides two fingers into her, curling them just right as his tongue laps her up, pushing her over the edge.

Sadie cries out, his last name falling from her lips repeatedly. 

“You did so well, baby girl.” He praises her, leaving gentle kisses along her thighs as she struggles to catch her breath.

Sadie sighs, hands trembling as she cups his face, forcing him to look at her.

The sight of him, knelt between her legs, eyes dark with lust, lips glistening with her— it makes her walls clench all over again.

Rooster smirks, standing up. Without a word, he walks to the door, picks up the takeout bag they abandoned the moment they walked in, and glances back at her with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“First, food break.” He places the bag next to her on the counter, stepping between her legs again, his voice dropping. Sadie meets his eyes, staring into them as she wrapped an arm around his neck.  

He smirks, fingers tracing her thigh. “Then maybe I’m going to make you watch yourself in a mirror when I fuck you. Hard but slow, just how you like it.”

[tessa-liam]

Life Goes On

Marabelle Series

Chapter 15 – Part 2

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Choices/Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement

Chapter Summary – Liam returns home to Cordonia to find Sophie and to address his nation about the university terror attack.

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs; Run To You, Lucy Thomas

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.

Aboard the Royal jet, Rashad peered outside the window and took in the white sands of Cordonia's shores passing by. Suddenly his ears popped, and the pilot spoke over the intercom, announcing the estimated arrival time was in 5 minutes. He felt nervous and helpless and could not help but repeat his fears in his mind: ‘There hasn't been any good news’.

Drake watched Liam walk away from his seat, his hand curled around a glass tumbler filled with an expensive scotch. He wondered if they would hear news before they landed. Remembering his best friend's emotional spiral downward after the past assassination attempt three years ago at the palace; this had the makings of that same pattern. This time though, Drake was not going to leave Liam alone.

The dire problem of not having any clues where Sophie was at the moment was suffocating.

As they waited to land, the minutes seemed to draw out. There was not much he or any of Liam's guards could do but wait and prepare to offer the crown prince their full support.

Liam finished off his scotch, the fiery liquid barely registering, and tried to review the notes for his upcoming address to his nation in his head while stepping into his private suite onboard.

There had still been no update on his beloved Sophie's whereabouts or circumstances.

He took a deep, long breath and turned to Bastien walking next to him with unmistakable determination. "Bastien, contact the security team back home immediately. I need all the current details on the scene and an update on the rescue operations."

Bastien sprang into action, calling the security team leader and putting him on speakerphone so that Liam could hear the conversation in real time. Captain Sean Wilson answered the call.

"Captain, this is Crown Prince Liam Rys, requesting an update on the incident at the University of Cordonia." Liam's voice came through the phone speaker, clear and strong.

"Your Highness, the situation at the scene is complicated and we have deployed additional rescue teams to help facilitate the speedy rescue and recovery process.”

The captain’s voice was tired but remained professional. "We have confirmation that multiple students have been injured in the shooting. We have increased security three-fold around the campus and are working diligently to track down the suspects."

Liam's fists clenched involuntarily, but he remained stoic as he continued. "I need a complete list of all the known casualties. I want to know about each and every one."

"Your Highness, we have established a comprehensive emergency response mechanism. At present, we are compiling the information and rescue teams are working at full ability. The list of casualties is being urgently collated, and I will send it to you via encrypted channels as soon as it is completed."

Liam nodded, and though he could not be seen, there was an unmistakable insistence in his tone: "I need this completed as soon as possible. In addition, please continue to strengthen the search and rescue efforts to ensure the safety of all students. At the same time, increase the manpower to hunt down the suspects and I demand that they be brought to justice in the shortest possible time."

Shortly after hanging up, the sound of an encrypted email rang on Liam's tablet, which he quickly clicked on; and displayed a list of known casualties on the screen as asked. There were fourteen people in the column of the dead, and dozens of names in the column of the injured. Liam took a deep breath and began to go through the list of names, one by one, each name like a sharp blade, stabbing at his heart. He searched carefully, afraid to miss any possible detail. But until the end, he did not find Sophie's name.

Liam clenched his fists, his eyes shining with unshakeable determination. "Bastien, as soon as the jet lands, we will go to the scene and assess the situation personally.”

Bastien, at once responded: "Yes, Your Highness. I will ensure that everything is in place."

Liam turned his head to stare out the window at the clouds; his heart was in turmoil. Although Sophie's name did not appear on the list of casualties, his fears did not diminish. He knew that the lack of news did not mean that Sophie was necessarily safe. That she might still be struggling, or that for some reason she might not be able to communicate with the outside world. He had to ensure that Sophie was safe personally.

Thinking of this, he took out his phone and touched Sophie’s number with trembling fingers. But all he heard on the other end of the line was a cold, robotic voice: 'Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is unavailable.'

Sending a text, he carefully tapped every letter, as he expressed his worries and thoughts.

'Love, please call me as soon as you get this message. I'm worried about you.'

___

'Where are you? Are you safe? Why can't I reach you?'

___

'I'm already on my way back to Cordonia. Please wait for me. Please.'

As the minutes ticked by, the 'unread' message on the screen was an ironic and cruel reminder of the futility of all his efforts.

Frustrated, he then tried to call Sophie's aunt and then sent a text message to Maxwell. 'Max, are you okay? Where are you? Have you heard from Sophie?'

Shortly after, his phone vibrated and Liam checked the text immediately .... only to see Maxwell reply,

"Liam, me and Daniel are at the Malic Hotel now, we're all right. But Sophie got separated in the confusion!!!!😢 I have been trying to reach her without success. I'm really worried about her.'

Receiving this update, Liam, although still anxious, was also relieved that Maxwell felt safe. He immediately replied: "Max, good to hear you're okay. Please keep in touch, I'll be back as soon as I can, and we'll find Sophie together."

Liam then picked up his phone again and sent a text message to Sophie's Aunt Bethany:

'Duchess Bethany, this is Liam. How are you? Have you heard from Sophie? I am very concerned for her safety.'

A few minutes later, Bethany replied to his message: 'Your Highness, I'm fine, but Sophie hasn't been heard from since the ceremony. I am also anxiously awaiting her contact. Please try to not worry, I'm sure she will be all right'

Liam's heart sank to rock bottom as he closed his eyes, silently praying that she would be found safe and unharmed. At the same time, he also felt a deep sorrow for all the innocent victims of the attack. He understood as crown prince, he had the responsibility and obligation, along with his father, to ensure the security of the country and its people. This attack was an acute test of his leadership.

University of Cordonia, Capital

As Sophie wandered aimlessly through the maze of people, her eyes welled up. The adrenaline of an earlier escape from the auditorium faded and she felt more sadness, fear and heartache than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she could not control her emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. How she wished it all had been a bad dream, that she would wake up and find that it had all been a false alarm.

An hour later, Sophie and other surviving students and guests were evacuated in an orderly manner to a hotel outside of the campus, the Malic Hotel. The hotel was temporarily requisitioned as an emergency shelter and was surrounded by police and security personnel to ensure internal safety and order. But even so, there was an indescribable tension and unease still in the air.

Sophie had been assigned to room 302. The moment she stepped into her hotel room; Sophie could finally catch her breath. She sat wearily on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with empty eyes, but her mood could not be calmed. She was eager to know more about what happened at the graduation, especially the mysterious men in black masks, their identity, purpose and why they were there; all of these became lingering questions in her mind.

She instinctively wanted to turn on her phone, hoping to find some clue or news report that would at least give her a sense of what had happened. But reality threw icy water at her - her phone screen was broken and riddled with cracks. She quickly pressed the power button, but the screen only flickered a few times, and then no longer responded. Sophie's eyes flashed with despair, as her contact with the outside world was completely cut off.

Thoughts came like a flood. She missed her Aunt Bethany, who supported her no matter what she was going through, who gave her endless warmth and encouragement, and who always made her feel at home in Cordonia. At the same time, she missed her horse, Marabelle. Every time she mounted Marabelle's back and galloped across the wide fields of Ramsford, all her troubles seemed to go away with the wind. Marabelle's eyes were always full of trust and loyalty, and there was a tacit understanding between them without words. How she wished now that she could feel the freedom and joy of running with Marabelle again.

But most of all, she missed Liam. In this unknown and dangerous moment, how she wished he could be with her, give her support and comfort. Liam, the man she was in love with, who gave her strength. She had never been so impatient to see him, to feel safe in his arms.

Now, however, she could only face all this alone; tears in her eyes had slipped down once again. In addition to missing Liam, Sophie's mind was filled with anxiety about the attack. She did not know how many people had been injured or even killed in the attack; whether Candy and Tom would get better, or what was going on with Maxwell and Daniel. They were her friends and family, and their safety stuck with her. She prayed silently that they would be safe.

Amidst this anxiety, there was so many questions. Who were those men in black at the graduation? Why would they target innocent students? What is the purpose behind this attack?

What puzzled her even more was the emblem of the earth and the baby. What does it mean? What has it got to do with the attack?

Her mind was full of confusion and uneasiness, questions swirled with no answers in sight, leaving her breathless. She tried to piece together every detail of the night in her mind, hoping to remember a clue or an answer. But the images were fragmented, leaving her unable to grasp and put together any useful information.

"Liam ..." Sophia muttered under her breath. She recalled what Liam had said about what he had experienced as a young prince and the memories of an assassination attempt that had fear cutting through his heart like a sharp blade.

Exhaustion came flooding in, overwhelming all her thoughts and feelings. Sophie lay in bed, breathing smoothly and deeply, and her body relaxed, as if all her worries and pain had been temporarily released at that moment. She drifted off to sleep with all her doubts, uneasiness, sadness, and longing for Liam.

The Royal Palace, Cordonia

The press was relentless. Inside the throne room, King Constantine stood stoically, as members of the press core demanded answers about the campus attack. Constantine cleared his throat and addressed the press directly and with the assurance of his years of reign and released a statement:

“At this dark hour, I stand before you with profound grief and pain in my heart. Like many of you, I am mourning the lives lost today, and we pray for the wounded to make a full recovery.

While we grieve the senseless violence that struck our country, we are also furious with the loss and sorrow brought on by those responsible for this evil act. We cannot and will not tolerate the murder and harming of innocent lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Those who commit such unspeakable acts will be held accountable and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the crown.”

Stepping down from the dais, Constantine was at once escorted by his royal guard out of the throne room. He looked visibly shaken and gripped his cane, trying to stand straight and upright.

Constantine's face was pale, and his eyes were filled with deep sorrow, his elderly face looked worn. But he refused to shed tears, still maintaining his dignified manner, while in public.

Lawrence, his personal guard, moved quickly to his side, “Your Majesty, the Royal jet has just landed with your son.”

Malic Motor Hotel, temporary safe house, University of Cordonia

The second group of surviving students were transported to the Malic hotel in orderly batches by the police in the pre-dawn night. The bright lights in the lobby could not hide the tension and in these in the air. Police officers, security personnel and medical staff were busy shuttling through the hallways to ensure that every student was properly accommodated.

The noise of footsteps and a murmur of conversation broke the sounds of the night. Sophie woke up, opened her eyes slightly, and through a gap in the half-closed curtains. She saw several figures hurrying along the corridor, as if new survivors had been brought in. She got up and dressed. Soon the door was gently opened, and a figure slowly entered the room. It was a girl about Sophie's age, a little wobbly in her step, visibly shaken by the night's horror and still reeling from the shock.

"Hey, um ... excuse me. I was assigned to this room. Is it okay if I come in?" The girl's voice was small and trembling, and her eyes were slightly timid.

Sophie at once stood up and smiled back, "Hello, come on in." The girl came closer, and Sophie could see her face. She had an East Asian face, long deep brown hair, and large black eyes full of fear and confusion, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

The girl said softly, "thank you, my name is Hana. What happened tonight was terrible ..."

Sophie took Hana's hand and sat her down on the edge of the bed. "Hi Hana, my name is Sophie. I know we have been through the same horror. But it is all right now. We can talk together and maybe it will make you feel better." Sophie tried to sound calm and friendly, hoping to bring some comfort to the girl.

Hana gave Sophie a grateful look, and took a deep breath. She began with great determination to recount her own experience at the graduation.

"I was with friends and all of a sudden the lights went out and they were gunshots ... I tried to run away, but there were screams and chaos all around me. I really don't know how I got out. I was taken to the stadium with some people and stayed there almost overnight until we were brought here. But I never saw my friends again. I got separated from them, I do not know what became of them..." Hana wiped tears from her eyes.

Sophie listened quietly, with a surge of sympathy and understanding. She thought of her friends Candy and Tom, and her cousin Maxwell and Daniel, and a pang of worry filled her heart.

"Hana, I've had my own friends injured and go missing too. Candy's arm was hit by shrapnel, Tom was shot in the shoulder, and they are both in the hospital; and Maxwell and Daniel got separated from me when they escaped. I am really worried about them. But I'm sure they will be all right. Your friends must have gotten out safely, too. You must believe that."

Hana's eyes flashed with emotion and trust as she listened to Sophie's words. "Sophie, you are such a strong person. If only I could be as brave as you."

Sophie patted Hana's arm gently and smiled wryly.

"Hana, it's normal to be afraid in this situation. In fact, I am also afraid, and all the people who have been through this attack."

Then Sophie's tone became a little heavier, and she decided to tell Hana what she had seen. With that, Sophie picked up the paper and pen on the table in the room and drew the sign from memory. Hana's face turned pale when she saw Sophie's drawing; her eyes widened, and she repeated in disbelief, "you saw this sign?"

Sophie nodded, her words unmistakable, "Yes, I'm sure. It was a very strange sign. I saw it clearly. They acted quickly and in an orderly manner. They were not ordinary thugs."

Hana held Sophie's hand tightly, her voice shaking slightly. "This sign, I have seen on the news, but with what specific event, I can't remember. However, it is definitely unusual and must be the hallmark of an organisation or group."

Sophie's eyes sharpened, and she frowned in thought. "This is no coincidence. The men in black were clearly prepared, and their attack may well have been targeted. We must tell the police about this as soon as possible.”

Hana shuddered, her voice filled with fear and worry. "But... will that put us in danger? If they are really that powerful, will they retaliate?"

Sophie's heartrate quickened. Of course she was afraid. The scene of Candy and Tom being shot and wounded replayed again before her eyes. The blood staining their shirts, the pain and helplessness weaving in their desperate eyes. These were images that she could never forget.

Then, in her mind, the panic of people running away, their faces showing fear and helplessness. Screams, cries, and pleas for help made up the most tragic symphony of the night. Fires were burning, the smoke was billowing, and the whole evening was enveloped in despair and confusion.

But thinking of the students who had been victimized, of Maxwell and Daniel who were still missing, and of Candy and Tom who were still in the hospital ... Sophie took a deep breath and quieted her heart. She could not let her fear consume her. She knew that her friends needed her. ... 'If you do not step up, Sophie, this kind of tragedy will happen again.'

Sophie stiffened her resolve, her voice was soft, yet powerful: "No, Hana, we cannot stay quiet. Candy, Tom, and your friends are just some of the many people who were hurt tonight. If we stay silent because we are afraid, more people will be hurt in the future. We can't let this continue to happen."

Hana's fear was replaced by a kind of courage as she listened to Sophie's words. "You're right, Sophie. I won't back down," She nodded firmly.

"Sophie, I'm so happy to meet you." Hana looked sheepishly at Sophie, blushing.

"If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

She touched Hana's arm and smiled, "I know you have determination, too, Hana." Sophie was genuinely happy ... happy to be friends with Hana.

Sophie hesitated for a moment, then whispered to Hana, "Hana,can you show me the news? My phone broke during the attack." She pulled out her cracked cell phone.

Hana nodded, and picked up her phone from the nightstand to open the news app. Together, they stared at the small screen, searching for news related to last night's university shooting.

On the screen, several shocking reports soon came into view. The mass shooting at the University of Cordonia had attracted widespread attention from the national and international community. The report detailed the chaos and bloodshed of the night, but also said that the police were fully investigating the incident and promised to bring the perpetrators to justice as soon as possible. As she read, she felt mixed feelings.

Sophie continued browsing. Suddenly, a marked headline hit her eyes and made her heart beat faster. --

"Crown Prince Liam Rys urgently ends his visit to Italy and returns home to respond to the shooting incident at Cordonia University."

She tapped eagerly; the live broadcast of the news began automatically.

On the screen, Liam stood in the doorway of the familiar white, shadowy auditorium, behind which the smoke had not fully cleared and live images of ambulances and police cars could be seen. Liam's figure stood unwavering behind press microphones.. He wore a black suit, his eyes were slightly solemn, but his face was more resolute and decided, that could not be ignored.

Sophie stared intently at the screen, every subtle expression of Liam tugging at her heartstrings. His voice came clearly over the phone, calm and strong.

Sophie's eyes were red and brimmed with tears. Her heart was racing, as she felt Liam's deep emotion coming through the screen. And then Liam's words turned to unquestioning determination:

Sophie stared at the screen, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. The moment she heard him say the words, 'Our Cordonian family', her heart swelling with indescribable excitement and pride; she wanted to run to his side and face all of this with him. However, this emotion was quickly overcome by reason, knowing that she could not expose her relationship with Liam, especially when there were other people around watching. She gently turned down the volume on the phone for fear that Hana would notice her emotional reactions. She clutched the phone tightly, as if she could feel Liam's presence and power in her hand.

"Sophie, what's wrong?"

Hana's voice sounded softly, interrupting her thoughts. Sophie suddenly came back to herself with a disguised smile, trying to sound natural. "Oh, nothing, I just didn't expect Prince Liam to be back so soon, it's only been a few hours since the shooting."

There was a subtle tremor in Sophie's words, afraid that her mind would be read by Hana and cause unnecessary trouble for Liam. She knew that at this particular moment she had to be careful not to reveal her relationship with Liam.

"Hana, could I possibly use your phone again? I want to send a text to my family and tell them about my situation."

Hana heard her words, a flicker of concern in her eyes. She seemed aware of Sophie's inner struggle and longing, but out of respect and trust, she did not ask any more questions, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, Sophie." You can use it whenever you need."

Sophie gave Hana a grateful look, and a warm wave came through her heart. She quickly opened the text messages on the phone, her fingers jumping over the keyboard, as she sent two messages. The first one to Aunt Bethany and the second one to Maxwell. In the text messages, Sophie told them that she was doing well and that they should not worry. She expressed concern for Maxwell and Daniel and hoped they were safe.

After sending the two texts, Sophie took a deep breath and began her text to Liam. She edited the text carefully ...

"Hi, Li, this is Sophie.

I'm all right. I am in Room 302 at the Malic Hotel at the university.

There was a shooting at the graduation, and I was lucky to escape. My phone is broken, and now I'm texting you on my roommate, Hana's phone.

I know you must be terribly busy and worried at the moment, but please believe me, I am fine and safe.

Don't worry about me. Just focus on what's needed right in front of you. I love you and look forward to seeing you soon."

The message didn't mention Liam's real name, and Sophie was confident that he would get her message. After pressing the send button, the words "Delivered" appeared on the screen. Suppressing her feelings, she quickly removed the text message, making sure it left no trace.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to hear back from Maxwell and Aunt Bethany.

Maxwell:

“Sophie, it’s so good to hear from you! Daniel and I are at the Malic Hotel too, and we are doing fine. We were looking for you, too. Just relieved to hear you are okay. We’ll talk more when we meet up.”

Aunt Bethany:

“Dear Sophie, I’m so happy to hear from you! Thank God you are okay. We are all so worried about you, but now we can relax. Be safe and we will see each other soon.”

After receiving notifications of incoming messages, the corners of her mouth cannot help but raise in a happy smile, a big stone in her heart finally fell to the ground. Sophie held the phone and re-read their loving words, feeling the warmth and support from her family.

A ray of sunlight penetrated a gap in the curtain and gently spilled into the hotel room, shining on Sophie's face. She gently closed her eyes, quietly feeling the warmth of the sun, the soft light made her very at ease, like a pair of warm hands, smoothing her fear and anxiety away. She was relieved that Maxwell and Daniel had escaped safely and that she could tell Aunt Bethany about herself.

And Liam will know that she's safe. Sophie found a trace of comfort and strength in reaching out to him.

"Thank you, Hana." Sophie smiled and handed the phone back to her new friend.

Hana took the phone and put it away, quietly watching it all, with a warm glow in her eyes. She may not know the story between Sophie and Liam, but she could sense that there was a deep emotion and connection with him in Sophie's heart. In this time of uncertainty, they were supporting each other and facing life's challenges together.

Cordonia International Airport

The Royal motorcade was situated on the tarmac in wait to take Liam and his men to the university.

Liam strode quickly and confidently to his SUV after his security detail had provided Liam with a report of all the victims and fatalities. Sophie's name was not listed, and Liam's heart remained uncertain, until he saw her with his own eyes.

His duty of keeping alert and informed for his country allowed Liam to control his fears of the possibility of seeing his beloved injured or worse. He fought against every fiber of his being to not burst through the chaos, with full disregard, to search for Sophie among the evacuated students. Liam, surrounded by his royal guard, Drake and Rashad, he walked onto the university grounds.

Drake, on the other hand, was not worried about propriety and cared for none of it. He rushed in and did not pay attention to anything but finding Sophie and Maxwell. He broke past some of the law enforcement and was met by a swarm of flashing cameras and press microphones.

"Back away!" He snapped, having to put his forearm up, and not relent. The flashing bulbs, whirring of camera lenses and questions being thrown at him was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"Don't you have decency? What type of scoundrels and fiends are you?"

An officer who recognized Drake, yelled, "settle down, everyone, he's an American friend of the prince's, stand down and don't crowd him."

On the campus of the University of Cordonia, even after several hours had passed, the chaos in the auditorium had not abated by a minute. Several police cars and ambulances, flashing their warning lights, stood by the side of the road at the ready. Police officers and ambulance workers were busy moving around the scene, serious and focused, although physically and mentally exhausted, but still stuck to their posts, to deal with the incident.

A police cordon has been placed around the scene to seal off the auditorium from the outside world. Liam saw the chaos and destruction ... and the despair of his people.

Liam took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and walked resolutely into the crowd and up onto the raised dais. The crowd grew quiet, and all eyes turned to the crown prince.

" Last night, our university campus has experienced an unprecedented trauma. On behalf of the royal family of Cordonia, I extend my sincere comfort and deepest condolences to all those who have been hurt and who have been affected by this tragedy. Your pain is the pain of all Cordonia. We will do everything possible to provide the necessary support and needed assistance to make sure everyone gets through this."

At this point, Liam's eyes flashed a subtle tenderness, that is his endless miss and love for Sophie.

But Liam took a deep breath and condensed his emotions and anger into a powerful determination.

"We will not sit idly by and let go of any of these terrorists. I promise that the Crown will use all resources in its power to track down the attackers and punish those responsible for this tragedy. We will bring justice to the victims, and to our people, to our Cordonian family."

***

The sky in the east gradually lightened as the night slowly faded; like the tide falling, as if in response to his words. A ray of dawn pierced the darkness, and the sun rose at last. The golden light slowly and gently spread over the campus, silently dispelling the darkness and cold; to bring a touch of warmth to the morning. There was renewed trust and hope in the eyes of the crowd. At this moment, they are silently praying, their hearts are full of deep hope: may such a tragedy never be repeated, so that the dead can rest in peace, and so that the living can find the strength to move forward; In the hope that the murderer will be punished, and there will be no hiding places of any crimes and evils.

As the Royal guard escorted Liam from the stage, Bastien approached with Liam’s mobile phone in hand.

“Sir, Lady Sophia has left you a message.”

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[ink30]

Beneath The Surface - Act 2

"Because we are cursed. As long as the blood of Old Valyrian runs through our veins, we will forever be cursed."

Warning: English is not my first language (So I apologize for any misused words), I don't read the books so this is based on my research, and based on the show. Alterations are made because why not. X reader, but if you want me to make an oc version i could do that too.

Act 3

"He seems.. Docile." Jacaerys said, standing just a bit further in front of Y/n as she dismounted Aragon. It was strange to him — A dragon of that size seemingly approachable in her presence. Even Vhagar wasn't that docile nor look approachable in Aemond's presence.

"He is not a war dragon." She shrugged, taking off her gloves. Jacaerys walked beside her as his mother requested an audience with her and asked him to be the one to escort her. Y/n noticed he gazed off, almost like he was in a deep contemplation. She didn't point it out — Figuring he would speak about it sooner or later.

"How did you know?" He said suddenly, stopping his walking. He looks at her, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Y/n stopped as well in front of him, turning to him "Know what?" She raised an eyebrow.

"About my brother. My brother's.. death." He said, voice shaky despite his effort to steady it and not let his emotions showed. He had been thinking about it for a while — it had been plaguing his mind and dreams like a nightmare that refuses to leave and it felt so real. The thought that.. everything could've been different. "Answer me. My mother told me about the letter." He demanded and perhaps a hint of desperateness.

"Do you really believe her, mother? That she could do blood magic?" Jacaerys asked Rhaenyra, she sighed and nodded. " I do. And I have a reason why I believed her."

Rhaenyra handed him a letter, it had been received on the day of Lucerys and Jacaerys departure. Jacaerys took it from her, opening the enveloped to read the contents. His eyes scanned the letter and his fingers curled in a grip.

'To Queen Rhaenyra, forgive me for not being formal. But let me get to the point. I request an audience with you, in regards to your new ascension as Queen. Terrible things will happen to you, Rhaenyra. I would rather for you to not lose another. You may give your answer to Inky, the crow. She will remain there until you are ready to give your answer.'

"I should've known. If i had not ignored that letter and replied to her sooner than perhaps.." Rhaenyra trailed off, taking a deep breath. Jacaerys placed down the letter almost seething. Rage boiled within him as he storms out.

"You could've saved him! You had known!" Jacaerys took a step closer to her, glaring at her. His body tense — Restraining himself from grabbing her and demanding more answers.

"There was nothing I could do." Y/n said calmly, she understood where Jacaerys anger came from but the best she could do was give him explanation and tell him the absolute truth.

"YES THERE WAS!" He snapped, hand clenching on the pommel of his sword — an act to ground himself. "You have the biggest dragon in the realm, you predicted Luke's death and yet you did nothing! You could've gone after him!" He stood right in front of Y/n now, his breathing ragged.

Y/n looked at him in the eyes, staying quiet for a moment "He was meant to die. Even if i did saved him, he would've died from other things." Despite her face being unreadable, her voice was soft and steady as she spoke to him. So soft that it was soothing.

He steadied his breathing, fist clenching and unclenching as he calmed himself. His eyes teary as he looks at her. He blinked and exhaled — Turning his face away from her and walk ahead. Avoiding her to see more of what he was feeling. "Come, I would not like to keep my mother waiting."

Without a word she followed him, She offered no words of condolence nor comfort but it was what Jacaerys needed at that moment. For reality to set into him.

Once Y/n arrived, Jacaerys excused himself and closed the door. "He is angry with me." Rhaenyra sighed. Y/n tilted her head in thought. "Angry yes, but perhaps not at you. He is angry with himself and at the situation." She said.

Rhaenyra stared at her before she adverted her gaze to the papers on her desk "Will you tell me if there will be an end to this? A peace?" She asked, her tone somewhat frustrated and desperate. "I need to know." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Y/n inhaled, shifting before she mumbled "I cannot say, but it is possible. The chance are however.. No more than 40%" Her words were truthful in expressing her thought.

Rhaenyra rubbed her temple, the council are urging for her to go to war. To regained what was rightfully hers. Y/n eyes examined her "War is.. Inevitable, your grace. Before peace, there will always be a storm."

"Do what you must. Wait as you need. But it is something that will happen sooner or later." She added, Rhaenyra looked up, taking Y/n's words into account. "If you have anymore visions of sorts, you will come to me immediately. You may leave now." She said.

Y/n bowed before she left. She went to her chambers and opened a book engraved with the symbol of her house. Inside contains the secrets of blood magic and dragons. Her hand flipped through the pages, looking for a certain ritual or explanation. It was silly really — One she had never thought before but there was something that Jacaerys said that made her curious. It was not like his remark pierced to her heart, no it was because at the thought that perhaps she could defy fate itself.

Her hand stopped once she noticed something, her fingers glide over the paper. There it was.

"Set before the birth.

What was written in ones being could be unwritten.

Threads weave tight, yet may be cut with a blade that dares to hold it."

However there was no instruction or ritual beneath it. All there was were words. Y/n closed the book with a hint of disappointment, the result was underwhelming to say the least.

She walked out, needing fresh air. Her feet had lead her to the beach. As she walked along the beach — Feeling the breeze, she spotted Jacaerys. She stopped just a few feet away from him. The sun was starting to set. The light illuminated his face, casting a soft shadow and glow that revealed the turmoil in his eyes.

"Why?" He asked, voice quiet and hushed. "Why has this happened? My uncle has usurped my mother's throne and by extension my claim as the next heir to the iron throne and my brother is dead." His jaw clenched not taking his eyes off the horizon.

"I do not know." Y/n said truthfully. She didn't know why and how, she wasn't about to sugarcoat it because everyone can sense that a storm will be brewing.

"It was my fault. I had suggested for us to take that mission. I killed him." Jacaerys said shakily, he could feel his heart ache. It hurt because he truly believed that it was his fault. If he had never suggested for them to take on that mission then perhaps Luke would still be alive. The guilt clawed at him and he can feel it eating him alive.

"Do not blame yourself. You hadn't known." Y/n said, looking at him. "You did." He retorted sharply — Almost snapping at her again. He stayed quiet, from his thoughts or from trying to calm himself, she could not tell.

"War will happen soon. Dragons versus dragons and men versus men. My mother wanted peace yet i can tell that is far from achievable." He said, finally looking to Y/n's direction.

Now for this one, she had an answer for it. "Because we are cursed. As long as the blood of Old Valyrian runs through our veins, we will forever be cursed." She said in a low voice at the last sentence. Y/n looks back at him, watching as the breeze blew softly through his curly hair. "Dragons are after all the most dangerous weapon in the realm. We are bound to be thrown into chaos sooner or later."

"Why?" He asked again, this time with resignation in his tone.

"I do not know." She repeated again, this time more softly and more grounding.

"You are angry, that is fine. But do not dwell on it." She looked back at the sea, closing her eyes. "And regardless of what people say of your legitimacy, you must be strong and brave. For the undeniable truth is that the blood of the Targaryen is in your veins."

Jacaerys seemed taken back and he tensed up. He had not expected her to bring up his legitimacy but somehow her words comforted him in a weird way. Her tone wasn't condensing nor did it held judgement in it. She opened her eyes again and turned to him.

"Whether your fate is to die or not, it is yourself that determine the outcome of this war before that time comes."

[dfortrafalgar]

Envious

Law x OC

Law is caught red-handed being jealous over someone who isn't even his... yet.

A/N- i wrote this a few months ago specifically for my own OC! I attached a cringe reference pic of her at the bottom of this fic, and me being my own worst critic, i really need to redraw her better at some point LOL. crazy how much you can change after only a few months, but i digress. I'm sorry it's been taking me so long to work on requests, so in the meantime I'm going to go back to posting some things that have been sitting in my google docs not yet published to here. thank you all for your patience!!!

Law was a calm man.  He was a level-headed man.  He thought before he spoke, meticulously planning every moment of his life down to the most minute details.  He was stone-faced, unmoving, unwavering.

And yet, he sat at the table in the Polar Tang’s galley, a coffee mug gripped so hard in his hands his knuckles were white, as his sharp, golden eyes stared across the room from him.  His jaw was clenched as tight as a vice.

“Captain, what in the world is your problem?”  Across the table with a newspaper in his hands, was Penguin, who had finally taken notice of Law’s threatening aura in front of him.  Law didn’t respond to the question, instead continuing to stare daggers at whatever was in his direct line of sight.  Penguin placed the paper down, turning his head over his shoulder to follow Law’s vision.

In the common area directly across from the galley sat Bepo on the floor, rolled onto his side, mouth wide open as snores exited his nostrils at a rhythmic pace.  Nuzzled up impossibly close to the large polar bear was Ruža, boiler suit zipped down to her waist, sleeves tied around her hips as she instead used Bepo’s ample amount of fur as a space warmer.  Her long hair was tied into a tight bun.  She was sprawled out along Bepo’s belly, head resting under the bear’s chin, a content smile on her face as she dozed off within her crewmate’s comfortable heat.

Penguin turned back around to face Law, a devilish smirk crawling across his eyes.  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.  And of Bepo out of everyone!”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Law quipped back, voice hushed, yet harsh.  

His mate laughed at his captain’s behavior.  “Never took you for the possessive type.”

“I’m not possessive,” Law grumbled, finally releasing the death grip he had on his mug and instead using his hand to pull the brim of his hat downward, covering his eyes.

A hard thump resounded next to him as the bench of the table rattled.  “You sleep on Bepo all the time, and so does the rest of the crew.  Why is it a problem when Ruža does it?”  The new voice, Shachi, followed his statement by taking a generous bite out of the bread he had retrieved from the kitchen.

Penguin responded for Law.  “He wants to be the one on top of Ru–”

Law’s motions were quicker than lightning, reaching across the table, grabbing the discarded newspaper in his fist, and whacking Penguin over the head with it to shut him up.  The two men burst into a cacophony of laughter.  They both knew better than anyone that Law meant absolutely no harm with his actions, he just had difficulty expressing his emotions.  Extreme difficulty, at that.  The laughter from Shachi and Penguin was enough to wake the mink across the room and the girl sleeping against his fluffy chest.  Bepo yawned, forgetting about Ruža draped underneath him and sat up, causing her to startle awake.

“What’s all the noise for?  I was having a good dream,” Bepo uttered, sleep still heavy on his tongue.  

Beside him, Ruža sat up, stifling her own massive yawn.  She awkwardly got to her feet, unwrapping her sleeves from around her hips and re-buttoning her boiler suit.  She turned to face the three in the galley across the room from them, smiling at the sight of Shachi and Penguin covering their mouths in vain attempts to smother their laughter as Law sat hunched over, both hands now gripping his fluffy hat, pushing it so far down his face that the entire upper half was obscured, leaving just his clenched lips visible.

The woman turned to Bepo, helping the animal off the floor.  “Thank you for the wonderful nap, Bepo!”  She turned on her heel to exit the galley, refreshed and ready to continue her tasks for the day.  

Bepo finally approached the table, plopping himself down next to Penguin who was wiping tears from his obscured eyes.  “Seriously, why are you guys laughing?”

“Captain was jealous of you,” Shachi said, his mouth curled into a wide grin.  “Because Ruža was napping with you.”

“Aw, Captain, you should just tell her you want to nap with her!  I’m sure she’d say yes, she just likes to nap on me because I’m so fluffy and you’re so boney,” Bepo casually spurted, innocent beady eyes matching well with the wide, toothy smile on his muzzle.  Penguin almost spit his coffee out at the backhanded comment.

Law groaned, his head dropping into his arms, hat being shoved off his head.  “Thanks for the encouragement, Bepo.”

Shachi nonchalantly rubbed his captain’s back.  “There, there, big guy, it’s alright.”

“Uhm…”

A new voice alerted the four friends toward the opposite doorway to the galley.  The masked helmsman, Hakugan, awkwardly stood in the entranceway, using his upper body to hold the heavy steel door open.  “Captain, you’re needed in the bridge for a quick maintenance check.  Sorry if I’m… interrupting something.”

Law was on his feet, hat situated back on his head faster than the speed of light.  His hand grabbed his sword that was left leaning against the wall, leaving his half-empty coffee mug completely abandoned as he followed Hakugan out of the galley.

His three friends watched him go, knowing smiles on their faces.

“He’s totally in love with her,” Penguin sighed, dreamily.

“Why won’t he say anything, though?” Bepo’s question was innocuous enough.

“You know how bad he is with feelings.  He’d rather die than be vulnerable with anyone,” Shachi responded, dropping his chin into his hand.

The conversation quickly dissipated, and the three finished their drinks and food before scattering for their own afternoon work.

—

A few days had passed since Law got called possessive.  Jealous.

The raven-haired man was staring at himself in the mirror of the crew washroom, hands clutching the sides of the metal sink as he gazed into his own face.  He wasn’t jealous.  How could he be jealous of his best friend?  Everyone loved cuddling with Bepo, how couldn’t you?  Law wasn’t jealous.  He didn’t own Ruža, no one did, and he’d rather swallow hot coals than ever make her feel like she was stuck in that situation again.  He wasn’t jealous.  He wasn’t–

“Captain?”

Law jolted.  In the mirror’s reflection, the person he wanted to see the least was behind him, leaning against the open door.  Ruža’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, blue eyes shooting daggers into his back.

“Ruža, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”  Law quickly grabbed his hat from the countertop beside him, turning around to attempt to get out of the room as quickly as he possibly could, sans using his devil fruit (he didn’t want to look that pathetic).  

“Are you alright, Law?” Ruža gently grabbed at the sleeve of his coat as he passed her.  “You look feverish.”

Law couldn’t bear to bring his eyes to meet her bright ones.  His heart was hammering so wildly behind his ribcage that he was scared it might give out.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he muttered blankly, staring off into nothing.  He bit down the disappointment that he felt as Ruža’s hand fell from its grip on his clothing.

“Okay…” she replied, though clearly unconvinced.  “Let us know if you need any help with anything.”  She finally entered the washroom after him, going straight to the medicine cabinet to grab her toothbrush.

With her back to him, Law silently turned his head toward her.  His eyes landed on the tattoo still imprinted at the base of her neck, exposed by her tied-up hair, his saliva catching in his throat.  The last thing he wanted was for her to feel trapped in this steel submarine she now called home, trapped with him.  She needed to be free.

But the smell of her shampoo lingering in the air after she passed him was making it very difficult for him to come to his senses, as not only himself, but as a captain.  Ducking his head, he finally took long strides away from the washroom.

—

“Ikkaku, have you noticed something wrong with Law lately?”  Ruža was hanging up her boiler suit on a hook on the wall, shedding her clothes from the day for something much more comfortable.  

Behind her, Ikkaku was changing into her own loungewear, tight, curly hair tied into two buns.  The two being the only women on the crew meant that they had the privilege of their own bunkroom, away from the 20-something other men that they lived with.  Ruža joining the crew made Ikkaku elated, excited to have not only a roommate, but a new girlfriend at that.  And the two of them sharing the privacy of their own room meant their more personal discussions stayed far away from the prying eyes of their crass male crewmates.

“Now that you mention it, he’s seemed pretty uptight lately,” Ikkaku murmured, wiping her face down with a damp cloth.

“I feel like I did something to make him upset, earlier I saw him in the washroom and he wouldn’t even look at me.”  Ruža’s voice was laced with discomfort, clearly sullen about the events from earlier in the day.

“What could you even have done?” Ikkaku asked, finally turning to face her friend.  The curly-haired woman already knew about the deep crush Ruža had on their stone-faced captain, being her only confidant in her emotional turmoil.  “You’ve never said or done anything bad to him before.”

“That’s what I’m wondering about!” Ruža responded with an exasperated huff.  “He’s impossible to read, and he never tells anyone what he’s thinking, so if I did do something to upset him he won’t tell me no matter how hard I pry.”

Ikkaku flopped face first into her mattress, rolling onto her side and watching as Ruža pulled a baggy shirt over her head.  “When did he start acting so off?”

“Uhm… a few days ago I think.”  The redhead sat on her own bed, falling onto her back and gazing dimly at the metallic ceiling above her.

“Did anything happen then?”

It took the blue-eyed woman a few minutes to think about the previous day’s events.  “I took a nap with Bepo in the common room a few days ago, and Shachi, Penguin, and Law were having a conversation that woke us up, and that’s when he started acting weird, I think.”

Ikkaku pondered intensely over her friend’s words.  Shachi and Penguin having a laugh at Law’s expense was nothing short of common on the Polar Tang, the two of them being Law’s closest friends but also his greatest annoyance.

Ruža’s voice piped up again.  “Maybe it was because I was napping during the day?”

“No, that can’t be it, Law naps on Bepo all the time so he’d be a hypocrite for getting mad at you over that,” Ikkaku responded.

“Maybe he wanted to nap with Bepo and I was in the way,” offered the red-head.

A light bulb suddenly flicked on within Ikkaku’s skull.  She sat up on her bed with a start, making Ruža jump in surprise.  Wide, brown eyes trained on startled blue ones.

“Maybe he was jealous that you were resting with Bepo and not him.”

It took Ruža a few moments to process her crewmate’s words.  “No, that can’t be it.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t like me that way!  I’m a crew member, a subordinate.  I’m nowhere close to his rank, and even then that’d be pushing his duty as a captain.”  Ruža was immediately on the defensive with a tight frown.  “As much as I want that to be the case, there’s no way that can be it.”

Ikkaku grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Who says?  Law’s not the kind of guy to keep himself above everyone, we’re all equal in this tin can.  Penguin and Shachi make out in the supply closet all the time and no one bats an eye.”

“Penguin and Shachi have been making out in supply closets since they were teenagers.  Their scenario is different.”  Ruža sat herself up now, leaning back on her hands.  After a few tense moments, she released a pent-up exhale.  “I really want Law to like me the way I like him, but it’s wishful thinking.  He’s not that kind of guy, and he definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of person to get jealous.”

Ikkaku hummed.  “I don’t know, I have an inkling.  But, I don’t know him as well as Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin do, so I feel like if you really want an answer, you’ll have to go through them.  Even if it’s not some cute lovey-dovey romance situation, they might at least be able to help you figure out what you did wrong, if anything.”

Ruža glanced off to the side.  “You’re right, probably.”

“Probably?!” Ikkaku gasped, feigning offense.  “I’m always right!”

This got Ruža to finally crack a tired smile, a breathy laugh leaving her lungs.  “Okay, yeah, you’re always right.”

Their conversations continued until the lights went out.  Instead of sleeping, however, Ruža was laid on her back, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above her head.  Her lips quivered nervously.

—

“Shachi,” a hushed whisper alerted the ginger man’s attention from his porthole washing.  He turned his head left, then right, searching for the source of the noise.  “Behind you, dummy,” the voice came again, from behind him.  He finally turned around, spotting the nervous expression of Ruža peeking from around the corridor.  

“Why are you acting like you’re spying?  Just get over here!”  Shachi beckoned her over, and she complied without a word, slowly ambling her way over to where her older crewmate was working.  “Is everything alright?  Your eye bags look like they’re about to go on a longhaul trip.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” she replied, voice small.  She knew her eye bags were atrocious, she didn’t get a lick of sleep the night previous.

Shachi nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Did I do something to upset Law?”

“Huh?”

Ruža paused, staring at the tinted shades that constantly covered the man’s eyes.  “What do you mean ‘huh’?  He hasn’t wanted to make eye contact with me in like a week now.  I want to know what I did wrong and figured you might know… you or Penguin.”

Shachi pinched the bridge of his crooked nose in between his fingers.  “Law is such an idiot, I swear.”  He dropped his hand, planting it firmly on his crewmate’s stiff shoulder.  “He’s not mad at you, I promise.”

“Then why is he acting like this?”

“Because he’s stupid and doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.  He was jealous that you were napping with Bepo last week.”

Shachi’s words made the neurons in Ruža’s brain brown out.  Her jaw was slack, staring blankly at the man in front of her.  Ikkaku was right on the money.  She was always right.

“If you’re gonna get anything out of him, you have to corner him like a cat and force him to talk.  How else do you think he managed that alliance with Straw Hat?  That kid forced Law around against his will and in the end everything worked out.”  Shachi smirked.

“I’m not gonna drag him around like a dog,” Ruža muttered, hiding her flushed face in her hands.  “But… I want to try to talk to him.  I got no sleep last night because of this.  Clearly.”

Shachi patted the woman’s shoulder a few extra times before finally releasing his supporting grip on her.  “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?  You got this.”  He flashed her a toothy grin.

Finally having a few answers, Ruža felt her shoulders relax, a relieved smile on her face.  “Thank you, Shachi, you’re the best.”

—

The day dragged on slower than a ship on the Calm Belt, and no one had seen Law for the entire duration.  Not at breakfast, snack time, or dinner.  Someone claimed they saw the man make a mad dash from his office to the galley for food, but no one could back up that claim.  He was like a cryptid among his own crew.

Regardless, that evening, Ruža stood face-to-face with the hand-painted plastic sign that he kept hung up on the heavy metal door to his office.

DO NOT ENTER.  I AM WORKING.

‘Obviously,’ thought the woman with a frown.

With a trembling hand, she reached up and knocked three times on the door, cringing at the way the heavy sound screeched through the desolate hallway of the submarine.  She waited a few moments in deafening silence.  No answer.  Her hand faltered, but she knocked again, louder this time.

“Read the sign,” yelled a clearly agitated voice from within the closed off room.

“I can read just fine, Captain,” Ruža responded, surprising herself with the sass on her tongue.

More uncomfortable silence followed, before the sound of a screeching chair could be heard.  Slow footsteps approached the steel door, and Ruža backed up apprehensively, heart beating wildly as she anticipated the door opening.  It did, a tiny crack, allowing the glaring light from the hallway to shine off of Law’s weary face.  His eye bags were worse than her’s, and his hair clearly hadn’t been washed in some time.

He stared at the woman outside of his door for a few agonizing moments before simply saying, “Yeah?”

Ruža pursed her lips.  “I wanted to talk to you.  It’s imperative.”  Law didn’t need to know that she had been practicing that last word in the mirror for the better part of 20 minutes.  Instead, she kept her shoulders back, chin held high, attempting to assert herself in front of her brooding captain who she was madly, desperately, incredibly in love with.  She was failing miserably.

Law looked past the way her lips quivered and her arms trembled at her sides, as well as her own sleepless appearance.  He silently opened the door to his office a bit wider, inviting her inside.  Her apprehensive steps followed him, and she closed the door behind her, standing against it as she watched her captain meander back to his desk, plopping himself in his chair before leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.

“I want to hear from you why you’ve been ignoring me.”  Ruža tried to suppress the way her voice trembled on its journey into the air.  “I have my suspicions, but I want to hear it from you.”

Law bowed his head, the shadow from his bangs concealing his eyes from her vision.  “What are your suspicions?”

Ruža was very quickly growing impatient, not helped by her lack of proper sleep.  “That you were jealous that I was napping with Bepo.  Shachi told me, but if that’s the case, I want to hear the truth from you, no one else.”

Law was worried that the sound of his hammering heart beat would be audible from across his office.  His own fingers were trembling with nerves, he never in a million years thought he would ever be in a situation like this one.  He did everything possible in his attempts to close himself out from intimate, personal connections, losing one too many people for his liking.  And yet, a woman stood before him (well, behind him), who held his weary heart in a grip so warm and caring that he almost didn’t want it back.

The red-haired woman waited patiently for her captain to respond.

“Yeah,” was all he was able to breathlessly mutter.

Ruža waited for him to continue.

“I was jealous.  But I shouldn’t have been.”

“And why were you jealous?” she demanded.  “The entire crew loves napping with Bepo.  Tell me why it’s different when I do it.”

Now it was Law’s turn to grow progressively more agitated.  His teeth clenched within his closed mouth.  “Do I really have to say it?”

“If it’s really this hard for you, then you don’t have to bother.  I’m just tired of you acting like I don’t even exist.  We’re in a damn submarine, it’s a bit hard not to feel ignored.”  Ruža’s voice had softened only slightly.  She was aware of her captain’s emotional issues, she knew bits and pieces of why he held everyone at three arms lengths away from him.  She knew that the tattoo she had forcibly inked on the back of her neck was a disturbing sight for him, just as it was a painful scar for her.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Law finally leaned back in his chair.  He closed his eyes, tossing his head back, breathing shallowly through his nose.  “I know it was immature of me to treat you like that, Ruža, I’m sorry.”  He rotated his head only slightly to glance towards the woman at his door, gazing at her with golden eyes that were filled with an unspoken agony.

“It’s okay,” was all she said back.

An idea popped into Law’s anxiety-ridden mind.  He slowly pulled open one of the messy drawers of his desk, procuring a wrinkled blank piece of paper.  Pulling a pen from a cup on his desk, he pulled the cap off and started scribbling frantically onto the paper.  In his head, the vision of Corazon writing on slips of paper to communicate while he was pretending to be mute flashed through his vision.  If Law couldn’t muster up the courage to vocalize the three little words bouncing aimlessly through his skull, then he’d just write them down.

The scratching of pen against paper finally ceased, and Law stood, keeping his head low as he passed the paper underside-up toward Ruža, who carefully took it from his hand.  Flipping it around, she began to scan the words sloppily written on the front.

Ruža clenched the paper within her shaky fingers.  The words she herself had been afraid to say were written at the top.  I love you.

The silence was palpable, so thick you couldn’t even slice a sword through it.  Shockingly, however, a light, airly laugh infiltrated the space.  Ruža’s face was flushed a bright, rosy red, and her mouth was twisted into a nervous, childlike grin as she tried with all her might to keep down the nervous laughs that were forming in her chest.  She couldn’t help it, small giggles escaping her lips as her shoulders shuddered with the effort of keeping them in.  Law picked his head up, staring with a mixture of shock and bewilderment.  He poured his heart out onto a piece of paper, and she was laughing at him.

“I’m not laughing at you, Law,” she finally managed to say.  “I love you.”

The formidable captain of the Heart Pirates, one of the most wanted men in the world, nervously swallowed the glob of spit that had formed in the back of his throat.  “You… you do?”

“Yeah.”  Her response mirrored his curt words from the short minutes prior.  “I was so scared that I did something to upset you.”

“God, no, you could never,” Law replied, breathlessly.  He felt 100 pounds lighter, like he could float away on the slightest breeze.  The three words that had cursed him for almost 20 years of his life now held a new weight to them.  A new, liberated weight.

The woman in front of him, with a nervous, giddy smile dancing across her lips, eyes closed tightly with the force of her infectious smile, held his heart so tightly in her grasp and she didn’t even know it.  Not yet, at least.  That would come with time.

Ruža broke the silence.  “Can I please hug you?”

Law felt the corners of his own mouth twitch upwards.  “Of course.”

The red-head closed the distance within a few short steps, hiding her face within Law’s chest, still giggling like a child over the sudden revelation.  She kept the paper held firmly in her hand as she wrapped her arms around his torso.  Law’s scruffy chin found its perch on the crown of her head, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils and clouding his mind with a bliss he had never experienced before.  He couldn’t fight his smile any more, letting it consume him, the same way he accepted the way his heart beat uncontrollably within Ruža’s presence.

“I’m sorry I’m laughing, I can’t help it,” she mumbled, the sound muffled by her face squished in the fabric of his sweatshirt.

His hands found their place around her shoulders, his left hand involuntarily coming up to rest on the back of her neck, covering her tattoo with his own inked hand.  “It’s okay,” he responded, his words quiet and soft.  “This is all new to me.”

“It’s new to me, too.”

The two stood in the same position for what felt like hours before Ruža finally (though regrettably) backed away slightly.  Law’s hands slipped off her shoulders, but his fingers gingerly brushed along her tattoo.

“We don’t have to do anything about this if you don’t want to.  I know with you being the captain and everything makes this kind of weird.”  Ruža’s eyebrows angled in a way that made her appear almost sad at a reality that hadn’t even happened yet.

It took Law a few moments to really form his response.  “No, I… I think I want to try.  I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Me neither.”

Now it was Law’s turn to laugh.  “We’re fucking hopeless.”

“Tell me about it.”

Ruža gazed longingly at the paper she still held in her hands, eyes repeatedly glossing over the three words at the top.  Law could get used to the way her bright eyes softened, as if not believing that what she was reading was the truth.  In the back of her mind, the reason she had even shown up to his office in the first place pushed itself back to the forefront.

“So about you being jealous…”

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 8

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!Reader/oc x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Santi wallows and Candy is hurt.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!: Deep internalized homophobia

Amazing smut by Fen as always!!! send love their way!!!

2.3k words

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Santi flinched when he heard another plate crash against the wall, thrown by mamí’s hand and hurdled towards his sister. They were screaming at each other again, and it was bad this time. Elaina had been caught by a neighbor boy's mom, naked in bed with that neighbor boy and brought her to mamí for punishment. Santi had woken from his sleep to the knock, and when he opened his eyes to see Elaina’s bed was empty, he knew it was her. It was always her. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t she just behave? She caused mamí so much stress when she already worked so hard. Look where they were, the three of them living in a small 2 bedroom apartment, the two siblings were still sharing a room at 14 and 10. She needed to do better for mamí.

“Libertina!” Mamí shouts, slapping Elaina across the face. “How dare you disrespect me! How dare you embarrass your brother!”

Santi didn’t feel embarrassed. Should he feel embarrassed? Mamí said it was embarrassing. Yeah, yeah he felt embarrassed. Humiliated even.

“Mamí! Just listen! I’m trying to talk to you!” Elaina is crying, crumpled clothes had noticeable tearing at the collar. 

“Callate!! No quiero escuchar a una puta fea!” Mamí reaches for her shoe. Santiago closes his eyes, clenching his little hands up into fists, squeezing them every time he hears the smack.

*

When it was all said and done, Elaina was sobbing in her bed, and Santiago was pulled onto his mother's lap. He had the distinct feeling he was too old for this, but he didn’t protest. Mamí didn’t like when he said he was too old for something, or grew out of anything. He outgrew a pair of jeans last week and she cried about how soon he’d find another woman and leave her. She said he was hers. Her little man. Her esposito. Her Santito.

Mamí held him close, arms wrapped around his body as they watched TV, up past his bedtime, telling him how good he was, how he could never leave her.

“Don’t you ever leave, Santito, bueno? No woman will ever love you like I do. They’ll only hurt my baby. They won’t cook for you, women anymore don’t take care of their men. They don’t clean either. I’ll take care of you, always, just never leave me for another woman. As long as you are my good esposito, I’ll take care of my Santito.”

*

Santi would leave, eventually, but not for another woman. He left to join the military to pay for his mom's bills when she wasn’t making ends meet as she got sicker. Elaina took care of her, despite everything she put Elaina through. Elaina became someone Santi admired deeply, seeing her for who she was. She wasn’t the problem child. She wasn’t a menace. She was a normal kid. It was Santi that was strange. The guys in the force razzed him over his relationship with his mom, telling him his wife wrote him when a letter from his mom came. They also made fun of him for going to mass weekly or more, for praying even in the field, for not fucking the local women they encountered, but being called gay wasn’t anything new to him. He was called that in high school, along with a myriad of racial slurs.

Frankie never made fun of him, neither did Will. Ben did, but it was just friendly, nothing mean. Nothing like Tom. Will was religious, raised baptist and respected Santi’s ongoing commitment. Ben was a bit of a mama’s boy too, just not as bad as Santi. Frankie didn’t have a relationship with his family, so he thought it was sweet.

Santi thought it was normal. It was normal to constantly worry what your mom thought, whether or not you acted on it.

When Santi finally left his mom's grasp after she fell asleep on the couch, he felt a tightness in his chest. There was a sense that something was deeply wrong for laying there with his mom, a feeling that he was too old, that he didn’t want to do that anymore… but then a deep guilt for leaving her for the comfort of his own bed. He never knew what the right choice was, constantly second guessing every move he made when he went to war with his own wants and his mom's. Cracking the door to the room he shared with Elaina in their small apartment, he heard her crying. At first, he considered going back to the couch where mamí lay… but in addition to being mamí’s esposito he knew he needed to be there for Elaina too.

When he lay in his bed, Elaina eventually spoke. “She didn’t even ask what happened.” She sobbed. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t, but he- he- he, and his friends…” She broke down in heavy heaves once again, crying as the welts mamí gave her began to show in the moonlight and Santi began to realize what had happened to her. When she began to calm down, Elaina turned to him, her face set in anger he didn’t think was directed at him but he could never tell.

“Don’t you ever do that to a woman, do you hear me? If I ever catch you acting like that, I swear to god Santi, I swear to god…”

She never did finish that sentence, and Santi didn’t sleep that night, but he promised. He would never disrespect a woman, never. He would be a better man than their dad, than the men who did that to his sister. He’d make mamí and Elaina proud, he’d follow the word of God. He’d be good for his mamí. He’d make her proud. He’d be her good Santito.

*

“Good boy, Santito”

Cold ran down his back, through his torso and into his heart where it pumped the icy anxiety into every vein. He felt sick. Santi thought of his mom, thought of what she must think of him right now, what Jesus must think of him… in bed with a woman who isn’t his wife, kissing a man, feeling his erection in his pants as their bodies pressed into each other… and Elaina, what would she think of soliciting a prostitute?

He needed to go. He had to go. He had to get out of this room and maybe throw up and maybe switch jobs and go to confession and punish himself… he caused Candy to sin, he caused Javi to sin, if they go to hell it’s his fault, he’s going to hell, he’s going to burn in hell now and-

Santi realized he was already walking down the street, not remembering how he got there. He paid her right? Did he? Great now he was a sexual sinner and a thief. What was wrong with him? So many things… so many things…

Tucking himself into an ally, he doesn’t make it far before he starts throwing up, the little food he’s been able to get down coming back up. This is why his pants were falling off. He was a fucking disaster. He was a failure to everyone around him, he couldn’t even catch Lorea. There was no stopping the tears that came as he laid down on the disgusting floor. There was a needle by his leg and Santi was pretty sure someone had defecated nearby but he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore. The guilt was crippling, the sadness exhausting… He wanted to call Javi, Javi would make it better… but there was no better, was there?

It wasn’t going to be better.

Santi laid there until the sun set.

Javi opens his front door on the fourth knock, not bothering to check who is there before he flings it open, a scowl plastered to his features. 

His expression quickly softens when he sees you. Sees the redness to your eyes. 

“Cand-”

“Can I come in?” You cut him off quickly, you don’t want to see that sympathetic look, you don’t want to see worry in his eyes. This isn’t about that. 

You swallow down your emotions, force them down. Don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi. 

You push past him before he can even answer, ducking under his arm that is holding open the door. 

“I… yeah?” He turns, shutting it and following you as you walk into the room. “What-”

Enough questions. You don’t need questions. 

You kiss him forcefully, slipping your tongue past his lips and lightly walking him backwards. 

Taken by surprise, he goes with the kiss, groaning softly. Your lips only break apart as you push him back onto his sofa. 

He tries again to speak. Tries to break through the shield you’ve put up. 

You don’t let him, dropping quickly to your knees between his legs and palming him through his joggers. 

He bites back a moan, eyes closing for a second as his body reacts on autopilot. His cock twitches under the warmth of your hand.

You don’t let him compose himself, pulling his soft dick from his clothes and quickly lean forward and take him into your mouth. 

He hardens quickly, growing as you swallow and bob until he nudges at the back of your throat. You groan, swirling your tongue as you deep throat him, taking him deeper. 

Javi’s moans grow in volume, mutters of praise slipping past his lips as the sounds rumble in his chest.

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him.

 “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily.

“Good boy, Santito.”

You choke, spluttering for a second as you breathe at the wrong time. 

“Baby,” Javi pulls you off him, salvia drinks down your chin as he takes your face in your hands. Worry in his eyes. 

That fucking look again.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I was just wondering if you… wanted some company tonight…” You say softly. “Free of charge?”

You hold his gaze as he looks over your face. You know that expression too. The one of a detective. You just wanted a distraction, and he could give it.

But after a moment he nods and doesn’t press further. 

You pull off your clothes quickly and climb into his lap when Javi has barely taken off his t-shirt. You waste little time, taking him again in your hand and pumping twice between you line yourself up with him and sink down. 

He groans, screwing his eyes up tight. 

You shiver. He’s big, and even though you’re used to him your body still reacts a little in surprise, clenching and hampering your intentions. 

You frown, wriggling, trying to take more and more even and fight the resistance. 

When Javi’s eyes meet yours you want to scream. To cry. 

You don’t want those soft eyes. You don’t need them.

Oh god, how much you need them. 

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t push. Simply rubs his thumb against your clit while his other hand holds your hip and stops you from trying to sink further down. 

It takes less than a minute for a spark of pleasure to run along your skin, for your hips to rock and for you to throw your head back in a soft moan. 

He gently pushes you down onto him, filling you and stretching you wide before he moves and flips you onto your back on the sofa with him above you. 

He thrusts slow and deep until you're digging your nails into his back and sobbing his name as he sucks bruises into your neck in time with the rapid rock and grind of his hips. 

“Javi…” You tense, gasping as your pleasure crests suddenly, overpowering and relentless. Robbing you of thought for one blissful moment. 

“That’s it, bebé, that’s it…” He whispers into your ear, slowing his thrusts but not stopping completely, letting you breathe and recover for a minute before he starts to build up again. “I’ve got you.” 

When you’ve settled, naked on his chest, Javi holds you close. He has a way of sensing when you need him, of when you need the extra touch and he’s there to give it.

A gentle kiss to the tip of your ear. “Do you wanna talk about it, Candy?” His voice was soft, letting you know you don’t have to answer. But you did, because it was Javi, your Javi, and you needed him.

“Santi’s mad at me.” You sniffle, clinging to him as the tears come for the hundredth time. “I- I don’t know what I did, but he just left- he left right after we… he wouldn’t even look at me, and he won’t talk me and it’s stupid, Javi I know it’s stupid because he’s a client, he’s just a client but, but-”

“Candy.” Long fingers tangle in your hair. “I know hes not just a client. It’s okay. You’re human. It’s normal for you- for us- to feel things… and I know how it feels to… feel… for him…”

You pause at that, then finally pull yourself off his sticky skin to look down at him. Your hair falls around, closing off the two of you to the world. “You… do?”

The look Javi gave you made your heart clench tight, something you’ve never seen in him. Worry. 

He gives a small nod. “He’s um… not talking to me either. I… kissed him… on friday. And he ran away so… I don’t think this is about you.”

You regard him curiously. You weren’t stupid, you were aware that those two were making goo goo eyes at each other for months, so this wasn’t a huge shock, and you and Javi were both on the same page of who gave a shit if someone was gay. You’d fucked plenty of girls during threesomes and group sex, and Javi…. Well, live and let live sort of man. But you didn’t expect the kiss at all.

Rolling over, you flop onto the bed beside him.

“You know how he is… guilt over everything… just a ball of anxiety. I wish… I wish I could take it away from him. I do. I wish I didn’t feel the way I did, but I do. It’s all gotten so… complicated.”

Javi’s hand takes yours, giving you a squeeze. “Yeah. it has.”

***************

thanks so much for waiting!!!!! it's been 5 ever, but not for lack of trying on my part. its been one thing after aother and then all of a sudden its been like 6 months????

anyway thank you to fen for everything, y deepest love to you always!!!!!!!

2 chapters left!!!!

love santi? want him dark?

Love Santi? Want him soft?

Joel handmiads tale au?

Want some dark logan howlett?

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolboydivision @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleiite @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie @reallyrallyauthor@solar-fics

[fandom-imperials]

Ego Iustus Volo Te (Part V)

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI

Finally finding a sense of temporary peace between the twin emperors, Alexandra shares an intimate moment with them as the spend the rest of the night together before planning their next move.

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x OC x Emperor Geta

SPOILER ALERT

(Alternative ending after General Acacius's execution)

MINORS DNI

Content Warning: Smut (18+) P in V, Alcohol, Suggestive Language, Profanity, Mentions of Violence, Self-conscious thoughts, Possessive Behavior

(Please let me know if I missed anything in this part)

WC: 5.2k

They entered the bedroom, the room illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. Geta led Alexandra to the bed, pulling back the covers so that she could get in. She eagerly crawled into bed and observed Geta and Caracalla. Geta climbed into the bed next to her, his expression comforting as he pulled the covers up over her. Caracalla stood quietly at the edge of the bed, his expression conflicted as he looked at the two of them together.

Alexandra noticed his hesitation and understood. Attempting to lighten the mood she softly said,”I thought we agreed that we’d sleep together.” Her gentle gaze observed Caracalla.

He flinched a little at her words, feeling his jealousy and insecurity flaring up again. He clenched his fists as he looked at her and Geta, the two of them already comfortably cuddled in bed together. “I…I don’t want to intrude,” he muttered quietly.

She couldn’t help but let out a soft groan. She was so close to finally having some peace yet Caracalla just needed to get over his emotions for a moment. Geta looked over at Alexandra a little concerned at her frustration. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder to soothe her. Caracalla remained standing at the edge of the bed torn between jealousy and longing.

“Caracalla get your ass in bed,” Alexandra muttered to Geta as she turned her head to rest on his shoulder.

Caracalla flinched at her words, his eyes widening slightly at the forcefulness of her tone. He glanced at Geta and Alexandra as their limbs already entwined with each other and hesitated for a moment. But then, with a hint of reluctance, he slowly climbed onto the bed, settling on the other side of Alexandra.

“I can’t believe that I have to order an emperor of Rome to finally have a chance at peace.”

Caracalla scowled slightly at her words, a hint of offense flaring up but it was quickly quelled by his own sense of guilt. “You didn’t have to order me,” he muttered, “I was just… I was just giving you two space.”

She turned slightly to look at him,”If I remember correctly this all started because you didn’t want us to have space.”

Caracalla grimaced at her words, sheepish as he remembered his own jealousy and possessiveness. ‘I guess you’re right. I just…I can’t help how I feel. I don’t like seeing you two together without me.”

“Well you’re here now.”

He looked over at her, his expression softened. He slowly reached out and placed a tentative hand on her hip as he turned on his side to face her. His touch was hesitant and uncertain. “Yes…I am,” he murmured. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. Seeing you two together still makes me jealous and…needy. I can’t help it.”

Feeling his hesitance Alexandra quickly grabbed his hand and pulled his arm around her. Caracalla’s eyes widened in surprise as she did so. His heart raced as she brought their bodies flush together, her warm body pressed against his. He could feel the soft curves of her body against him and her hair tickling his chin. Alexandra smirked at his reaction looking up at Geta who was now leaning on his forearm and looking down at them. Geta chuckled softly at her smirk, his hand reaching over to gently touch her hair. “Now you’re just being cheeky,” he expressed affectionately. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

“I had to get him here somehow. Don’t tell me you have complaints now,” she raised her eyebrows at her husband.

Geta laughed softly, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “No, no complaints here,” he said as his hand continued to brush through her hair. “You certainly know how to handle our dear Emperor, don’t you?”

“Clearly you were having some troubles and he’s your twin.”

He chuckled again, a hint of sheepishness crossing his face. “I suppose you have a point,” he admitted ruefully. “Caracalla and I may be twins, but we’re also very different. Sometimes it’s difficult for us to see eye to eye, especially when it comes to…well, you.”

“Such a surprise,” she laughed softly.

Geta grinned clearly amused by her sarcastic response. “Yes, it’s a mystery why our relationship can get so complicated,” he said dryly. “It’s almost like Caracalla’s jealousy and possessiveness can be a bit overbearing at times.”

Alexandra turned a bit to see if Caracalla had any response or if he’d dozed off. He was still awake, his brows still scrunched in conflict as he held her in his arms. His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt, jealousy, and desire. “I…I know I can be a bit much,” he murmured, throat tight with emotion. “I just can’t stand the thought of losing what’s mine.”

Alexandra glanced back to Geta to get his thoughts on his brother’s confession. He sighed with understanding and exasperation. “You’ve always been possessive. It’s just something we’ve had to deal with as brothers.” He then turned to Alexandra,”And it seems that you’ve become the object of his possessive nature as well.”

“You’re both possessive. Between the two of you you rarely allow me out of your sight except when I’m with Lucilla.”

Geta chuckled softly at her words, a hint of guilt in his eyes but no remorse. “You’re right-we are both possessive. But I like to think I’m a bit more reasonable about it than Caracalla.”

“You’re less emotional about it,” Alexandra whispered.

He nodded in agreement with a small smile on his lips. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I’m a bit more logical, even-tempered when it comes to these things.”

Alexandra patted Caracalla’s arm that was still around her. His eyelids fluttered as he felt her hand pat his, his heart skipping a beat the familiar touch. He tightened his arm around her, holding her closer to him, a hint of desperation in his grip. She accidentally let out a small whimper as he squeezed. Caracalla’s eyes widened as he heard her sounds as his grip subconsciously tightened even more in response. His breath hitched in his throat as he thought back to the feeling of her soft curves molding into his form. 

Her eyes widened a bit as she let out as a small moan left her lips and her gaze snapped up to Geta’s. He simply looked down at her with a smirk on his face with his eyes showing a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Looks like someone’s enjoying themselves a little too much,” he teased, his eyes sparkling mischievously in the flickering candlelight.

“I’m surprised you haven’t joined.”

He grinned even more at her words with a gleam in his eyes. “Oh, trust me, I very much want to,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But I’m enjoying watching the two of you for now.”

“How selfless of you,” she said before putting her hand on his thigh.

Geta let out a soft chuckle, his gaze wandering down to her hand on his thigh. “I’m a generous man,” he commented with a hint of humor. “But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll join in soon enough.”

She pouted her lips playfully as she removed her hand and placed it on the back of Caracalla’s and gently pulled as she looked back at him. Caracalla’s eyes widened as his heart rate quickened in anticipation. He let her guide his hand where she wanted it to go, his eyes locked on hers as he waited to see what she intended. She carefully pulled his hand further up her torso towards her chest, her eye contact never wavering. Caracalla held his breath as she guided his hand, his eyes locked on her gaze. His heart thundered in his chest as his hand came in contact with the softness of her breasts, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress.

She then grabbed hair on the back of his head and tugged at it. Caracalla’s breath hitched as she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and tugged on it, his body jolting slightly in surprise. His eyes flickered in response, a mixture of surprise and desire in his gaze as she pushed his face closer to hers. He let her pull him closer, his body moving willingly towards her like a magnet. His face was mere inches from hers, his breath hot and heavy as he closed in.

“I’ll let you take it from here,” she whispered, smiling at him.

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed at her words, desperation and determination flashing across his face. He nodded silently, his hand still on her chest as his fingers began to grip the fabric of her dress. He took a moment, his eyes roaming her face until he finally closed the remaining distance between them and claimed her lips in a forceful, possessive kiss. Alexandra moaned into the kiss as her heart rate quickened. She couldn’t help but wonder what Geta was thinking of this spectacle.

Geta watched the two of them intently, his expression a mixture of fascination and desire. His eyes roamed over the scene before him, taking in the passion and need between Caracalla and Alexandra. He grinned to himself as he saw Caracalla claim her lips so possessively and heard her moans as she embraced it. His body began to stir in response, his own desire building with every moment. 

Alexandra was enjoying herself as she shifted her body so that she was now laying on her side with her back to Caracalla never breaking their passionate exchange, her hand still tangled in his ginger locks. She quickly pushed her butt back into him and let her free hand fall to Geta’s side of the bed. A primal growl escaped Caracalla’s throat and he took possession of his hand on Alexandra’s body, letting it roam along the curves of her body as he moved his lips from her mouth to her neck. Geta watched the two of them, his own heart rate quickening with every movement and sound that his wife and his twin made. He reached out and gently touched her hand on the bed beside him, his fingers slowly tracing along her palm.

She let out a gasp as Caracalla latched himself on her neck and let out a groan as she gazed over at Geta who she saw was taking advantage of her free hand. Caracalla continued to shower her neck with kisses leaving a trail of marks claiming her as his own, his hand roaming over her body with growing desperation. Geta continued to trace his fingers along her hand beside him, a small mischievous grin on his lips as he observed. He intertwined his fingers with Alexandra’s, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Alexandra couldn’t help but squirm at the attention she was getting. When Caracalla caught a particularly sensitive spot on her neck she closed her eyes and moaned his name.

Caracalla grinned against her neck as he heard her moan and felt her squirm. He latched firmly on these new spots, his lips, tongue, and teeth working over it as he continued to claim her as his own. Geta grinned further as he watched them, now rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, the familiar possessive glint growing in his eye. 

Panting now, Alexandra briefly opened her eyes to look at Geta. His gaze locked with hers, his eyes dark and stormy with desire. He smiled at her showing his possessive nature and amusement. “Enjoying yourself, my love?” he huskily whispered.

“Mmm.” Alexandra tried desperately to get her words out. “Very much so,” she let out an airy laugh before arching her back and moaning as she bit her lip trying to stifle her sounds.

Geta chuckled at her attempt to speak, his eyes raking over her arched back as the covers fell back. “Good, " he purred. “You look beautiful like this.”

Caracalla smirked against her neck sharing a dark gaze with his brother as he continued to worship her sensitive spot pressing her body tighter against his letting a low growl rumble in his chest. She couldn’t help but whine as she felt a heat growing inside her. She gasped as Caracalla nipped at her neck.

Caracalla grinned, his teeth now working their way around her sensitive flesh. He relished in the sounds she made, the way her body responded to his touch. Geta could tell her heat was growing, recognizing it from his numerous times with her and it fueled his own desire. Alexandra couldn’t believe that Geta had been managing to hold out this long watching his brother claim his wife. 

Geta had been watching the two of them for a while, but his own desire was starting to become too much to ignore. He saw the increasing marks that Caracalla left as he claimed his wife, their bodies moving against each other and Geta’s breath caught in his throat. He finally let go of her hand, his fingers beginning to trail down her arm instead, his gaze becoming more feral. Alexandra watched him through her panting delirium and smirked a little as Geta began interacting more. 

Geta smirked back at her, his eyes flashing in the candlelight. He moved closer to her, now pressing his body against her front as he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “You’re simply exquisite,” he whispered in her ear, voice husky.

“Oh ya?” she whispered back, still squirming between the two emperors.

“Mmm,” Geta hummed, his lips trailing kisses down her shoulder. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Caracalla continued to shower her neck with attention as he began to grope more of her with his roaming hand.

“How did I come to deserve you both?” Alexandra exclaimed between whines and moans.

Geta chuckled softly, his lips tracing open mouthed kisses down her shoulder. “Trust me, my love, we’re the lucky ones,” he murmured. “We’re honored to have someone as beautiful and talented as you.”

Caracalla hummed in agreement as his hand moved to grip her hip possessively and nipped her skin with more force making sure that she knew who she belonged to. “And Macrinus claimed you had no idea,” she laughed a bit before gasping at Caracalla’s increased aggression. His grip tightened slightly on her hip as he pulled her more into him.

Geta laughed alongside her, his lips moving to press a lingering kiss to her shoulder. “Macrinus has no idea what he’s talking about,” he said with a smirk. “We know exactly what we have.”

Alexandra moved her hand from Caracalla’s hair to the back of Geta’s head and she began to grind herself against Caracalla to make up for it. Geta’s gaze followed her hand as she moved it. Geta let out a low moan as she moved against Caracalla, the movement driving his own desire. Behind her Caracalla groaned, his body responded to her movement, his manhood growing even harder.

“You like what you see?” Alexandra asked her husband.

Geta smirks, his eyes flooded with animalistic desire. “You have no idea,” he growled. “Seeing you move like that, hearing you moan and whine…it’s driving me crazy.”

“Why not take your share?”

Geta grinned at her words, his eyes darkened with lust. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he growled.

He sat Alexandra up a bit as he leaned in and placed a kiss on her other shoulder, his lips trailing over her skin as he nipped and sucked. Feeling both of the emperors claiming her was almost too much to bear as she let out soft moans including breathless chants of their names. Both emperors possessively marked her, their bodies pressed tightly against her front and back. Geta continued to worship her shoulder and collarbone with kisses and bites, his free hand now roaming over her body. Caracalla also continued to claim her neck, desperately rutting against her from behind.

“Mine,” Caracalla moaned against her skin.

“Ours,” Geta growled, biting her shoulder gently.

“Now boys, no fighting,” she breathlessly reprimanded, pausing her movement while laughing a little before resuming.

Both emperors chuckled at her words, their hands and lips still roaming over her body.

“No fighting,” Geta agreed with a smirk.

“Just enjoying,” Caracalla added, his voice low and sultry.

“That’s better, Caracalla,” she glanced down at him as he grinned up from her neck, his grip tightening on her hip.

“Anything for you, my love,” he murmured now, wrapping himself further around her, his lips now tracing kisses down the side of her throat.

Alexandra made an arrangement with herself to let them continue for as long as they wanted. After all, she managed to save both of them from Macrinus. Geta and Caracalla gladly continued their ministrations, their lips and hands roaming over her body. They took their time, wanting to worship and claim her as completely as possible. The thought of Macrinus’s attempts against her  only fueled their possessive nature. Alexandra continued to moan, glad that Macrinus’s touch was replaced by theirs. 

Geta and Caracalla break away from Alexandra as they look at each other, mischief in their eyes as they silently communicate. Alexandra is about to ask what they’re thinking when Geta goes behind her and lifts her so she’s kneeling on the bed, removing her stola in the process, as Caracalla quickly removes his robes and lays flat on his back in the middle bed. Alexandra’s gaze rakes his body as she sees the painfully hard erection that Caracalla had managed to hide. 

“You like what you see,” he smirked, placing his hands behind his head nonchalantly.

“Very much so breathed,” as Geta released her and gently pushed her towards his brother observing as they lips clashed together passionately. They’re arousal was clearly evident; he noted the slick between his wife’s thighs. Quickly, he tore his robes off and tossed them to the side as Caracalla had one arm wrapped around Alexandra’s shoulders pulling her in tightly as his other rubbed his length against her entrance. 

Geta reached forward and tugged Alexandra back by her hair and forced her into a heated kiss. As they separated he placed his pointer and middle into her mouth as she sucked at them moaning against his grip on her. Suddenly, Caracalla grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his length. Alexandra let out a gasp and the emperors both chuckled at her noise. Geta released her and pushed her back down as he began to stroke his own erection softly moaning before he lined himself from behind her. As he gently pushed in Alexandra groaned.

“Shh, just relax. That’s a good girl,” Geta cooed.

Alexandra began kissing Geta can and as soon as the pain subsided she pushed her hips onto the emperors begging them to move. They obliged, letting themselves thrust into her desperately. Her lips kept on being traded between the brothers as Geta pulled her back for wet, open kisses on her lips before Caracalla tugged her back down to meet his own. 

After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, Alexandra and the emperors felt their ends drawing near as they all moaned each other’s names before finally collapsing on each other. After catching their breaths the Geta and Caracalla took their previous positions on either side of her and planted soft kisses as she curled up into them.

“I love you more than anything,” Alexandra sighed.

The emperors both felt a surge of possessiveness at her declaration, both loving the fact that she was completely devoted to them. Caracalla’s lips trailed over her neck, his voice whispering in her ear,”We love you too. More than anything in this world.”

Geta nodded in agreement, his hand now stroking her thigh. “You’re everything to us. Our love, our empress, our woman.”

Alexandra grinned before collapsing on the bed waiting for the sun to rise so that they could attempt to fix all their problems. Caracalla and Geta both watched, taken by her beauty and grace. Caracalla leaned over her as he ran a hand over her hair, his touch gentle as he caressed her. Geta smiled at the sight, his hand never leaving her thigh. “You’ve a vision, my love,” Caracalla murmured. “We could watch you lie there all night. But we know that we have things to attend to once the sun rises.”

She turned her head a little, expressing,”I’m relieved that you remember there are other duties you must attend to.”

They both chuckled at her comment. Caracalla embraced her, burrowing his face in her neck grinning. “We never forget our duties, my love. But when we’re with you, we find it difficult to think of anything else except worshiping and claiming you.”

Geta nodded as leaned back in and moved his hand up her thigh. “You’re far too distracting. You drive us wild with desire and we find ourselves losing all self-control when we’re near you.”

She smirked a little before stating,” Then I suppose it’s only fair that I relieve you from your distraction.” 

She slowly went to get out of the bed as she glanced outside noticing the sun’s rays beginning to peak out over the city. The emperors both watched as she did so, Caracalla begrudgingly let his hands fall from her but Geta continued to grip her thigh tightly. Their eyes watching her every movement as they raked up and down her form with lust and amusement. Caracalla sighed, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. “Are you abandoning us, my love? Leaving us cold and alone without your presence?”

Geta gave her a dramatic pout looking up at his wife as he tried to pull her back. “Leaving us to suffer without you by our side?”

“You said I was a distraction and it’s not good for emperors to have distractions when they have big decisions to make,” she chided, smirking at Geta’s grip on her.

The brothers laughed at her response, amused by her attempt to reason with them. Caracalla pushed himself up on her knees and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind leaning his chin on her shoulder as he looked longingly up at her. “You’re far too astute, my love. But you underestimate how difficult it is to keep our minds on any task that doesn’t involve you.”

“You’re like a drug, my wife. As addictive as any substance. We can’t get enough of you, no matter how hard we try,” Geta huffed, squeezing her thigh.

Alexandra let out a small whimper at Geta’s grip. “And too much of a good thing can be worse than a bad thing.”

They both smirked at her whimper loving how she responded to them. Caracalla chuckled against her neck. “You’re correct, as always, my love. But the thing is, you’re not just a good thing. You’re a great thing. A thing we cannot live without.”

Geta takes her chin and tilts her face to look into it. “We wouldn’t even want to try. Not when you're so addictive and enticing.”

Chuckling at Geta's hand positions she stated,”I can’t help but think that you’re growing desperate, Geta.”

“Can you blame me, wife? When you’re so close and so beautiful, it’s hard to control myself.”

Caracalla began trailing his lips over her shoulder. “You’re a vision, my love. A temptation. We can’t help but feel more and more desperate for you as the minutes pass.”

Alexandra sighed seeing the roundness of the sun becoming more apparent. Her lovers both glanced outside as well, noticing that their fun had to come to an end. Caracalla sighed against her neck, his lips pausing. “The sun’s finally awake and we have duties to attend to,” he grumbled.

Geta finally loosened his grip on her thigh, humming,”Much as we wish we could spend the entire day claiming you, we do have a city to run.”

“There’ll be more time for that after we secure the stability of Rome,” she softly smiled, reaching up to caress Geta’s face. Before finally standing from their bed.

“You have us wrapped around your little finger. You have more power over us than you realized,” Geta said, not wanting to let go of her as she stood.

“Oh I know. Macrinus reminded me of that.”

Caracalla and Geta both winced at the mention of the traitor both harboring resentment toward him. Caracalla grimaced as his expression darkened at the memory of what he did to Alexandra. “That traitor. We’ll see to it that he pays for his insolence.”

Geta nodded growling,”He was a fool to think he could challenge our authority and our love for you. He underestimated the lengths we would go to keep you by our side.

“Just like Icarus he flew too close to the sun,” Alexandra said, caressing Geta and Caracalla’s heads.

Caracalla grinned manically,”That’s putting it lightly. He’s lucky we didn’t have him burned at the stake for his insolence.”

A knock came from the bedroom door and Alexandra permitted them to enter. One of the imperial servants walked in with a pitcher of wine and goblets for the emperors and their empress. Alexandra nodded her appreciation as she dismissed him. She poured herself some wine and took a sip before glancing at the brothers, her expression growing serious. “So what will you do?”

They sensed the shift of mood in the room as their eyes reflected her same seriousness. Caracalla sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Macrinus is a problem that needs to be dealt with quickly. We can’t have his insolence go unpunished.”

Geta’s expression darkened. “We need to send a message. To show everyone that treachery will not be tolerated, especially against us and you, our empress.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Especially with the connections he has.”

Caracalla let out a frustrated sigh as he slammed his clench fists on his thigh. “He had too many connections, too much power. It’s a wonder we were able to catch him and his men.”

Geta let out a low growl,”We’ll see to it that he never poses a threat to us or you again.”

“Never underestimate a weak minded woman,” she smirked, taking a long drink from her goblet. “Have you decided how you want to make an example of him?”

They both grinned conivingly at her, appreciating her sharp mind and cunning nature. Caracalla pondered for a moment his lighting up at his lust for blood,”Public execution is a desirable possibility, but I want it to be more than just a simple beheading.”

Geta nodded, getting up and pouring some wine for himself. “We want to send a message to any other would-be traitors. We want them to know that there’s a severe price to pay for challenging us.”

“The games are still going forward as planned, though we will need to be more cautious than we were with Acacius if we decide to use that as the setting for his downfall.” She paused pondering before quietly saying,”Perhaps I could ask Lucilla for advice.”

Even though Lucilla had a history of plotting against the emperors that Alexandra was close to starting with her own father and she betrayed her trust by endangering her family and children, Alexandra had a small hope that she might come to her niece’s aid. Alexandra had always valued Lucilla’s advice throughout her life and especially after becoming more intimate with Geta and Caracalla. The emperors both liked the idea using the games as a stage for their message not ones to turn down a chance at spectacle and bloodshed at their command. Caracalla grimaced, remembering the revelations of Acacius and Lucilla’s coup days prior grumbling,”She’s a snake in the grass, capable of turning on us at any moment.”

Geta nodded, his brows furrowing as drank his wine and looked down at Alexandra,”We need to be careful with her. She has the power to bring great harm to us.”

Alexandra scrunched her brows in conflict. “Perhaps she has a better idea of the level of support Macrinus has from the public. I have connections and support but I feel that others don’t trust me to disclose information to me even if they support me because of my proximity to you.” Whether she was in denial or not about Lucilla’s betrayal, Alexandra couldn’t forget that she was still kin to her.

Caracalla sighed and grumbled from his seat at the edge of Geta and Alexandra’s bed, his thoughts growing more conflicted at Lucilla’s potential knowledge. Geta placed his arm around Alexandra’s shoulder contemplating,”She may have heard something from her own agents or informants but she can’t be trusted. If she could turn on her own blood, what is to say that she won’t do so again in our time of weakness.”

Alexandra drank the rest of her wine looking between the twin emperors. “Then perhaps we summon her to the throne room before we travel to the Colosseum for today’s games. Bring her into our own territory in the open to question her.” She paused, understanding the severe complexity of the situation as she tried to find a sense of rationale and logic. “Whatever she says we don’t have to take to heart. We know where Macrinus will be executed. We just have to determine how.”

They both look at her contemplating her words. Caracalla smirked,”That’s a good idea. Bringing into our territory will give us the advantage. If she tries anything I can gut her then and there.”

She and Geta took a deep breath seeing his eyes grow more manic at the impending bloodshed because of this attempt on their lives. Attempting to bring the conversation back to where it should be Geta asserts,”We’ll refrain from such actions, but we can decide for ourselves whether to heed Lucilla’s words.”

“Then it’s decided?”

The brothers nod together, Geta pulling her closer and tracing his hand over her hair. “We’ll send word to have Lucilla summoned to the throne room today for questioning following the games. If she has anything useful to offer, we’ll consider it.”

“And if she does anything to provoke us, I’ll deal with her swiftly,” Caracalla’s eyes glint.

Alexandra takes a deep breath not wanting to think about what will happen if Lucilla doesn’t comply. She only hoped that Lucilla continued to be the rational woman that was a key part of Alexandra’s upbringing. Caracalla’s expression briefly softens as he gets up from the bed and takes her hands in his, his voice gentle now. “Don’t worry. We’ll deal with Lucilla however is necessary. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Geta keeps a close eye on his brother as he rubs his hand along Alexandra’a back. “Yes, we’ll do what we must to protect you. Lucilla’s words won’t change that.”

Alexandra nodded in understanding, looking between them. “I know that you’ll do what must be done. I only hope that Lucilla sees reason.” She sighs before commenting,”I should get ready.”

As the emperors let her go prepare from what needed to be done their heads swum trying to think of how they would ensure their survival. Geta looked pointedly at Caracalla seeing the manic glint in his eye and only hoped that he’d contain himself long enough for these discussions of betrayal to finish. Both of them knew how conflicted Alexandra was toward Lucilla. Finally, Caracalla broke the silence,” She still loves Lucilla, despite her betrayal.”

Geta knew her feelings all too well from their late nights together. “Yes, it’s obvious. All we can do is protect her and our claim to the throne.”

[kpop-stories-21]

Chapter One | The Unmaking Of Yeosang

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: San x OC

Word Count: 3k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres + AUs: Non-Idol AU, Yandere AU, Lovecraftian Monster AU, Horror, Thriller, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Human!OC, Yandere Eldritch Horror!San, strong language, obsession, possessiveness, jealousy, stalking, graphic descriptions of torture, graphic descriptions of blood and gore, murder, minor character death

Summary: In which we meet, and lose, Kang Yeosang. It seems the games have finally begun.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @naturalogre @yoonguurt @mint-yooxgi @sanjoongie @nebulousbrainsoup @galaxystardragoness @lovetaroandtaemin @unholywriters @kwanisms ATEEZ tags: @lovelyhange @spicyseonghwas @bxffietheblxxdy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @keopihaus || @sandsofire

MDNI banner, divider, and support banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

A/N: PLEASE HEED THE TAGS!! The contents of this chapter are extremely dark and I don't want anyone triggered or traumatized because they didn't check the tags beforehand.

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A year and a half. That’s how long it had been since Choi San first stepped foot into HJ Company and made his silent claim on Jung Suyeon.

For the most part, things had gone... well. No one had pushed too far. No one had gotten too close. San had made it clear - without a word spoken - that Suyeon wasn’t available. Not for friendship. Not for flirting. And sure as fuck not for love. She belonged to him. Not legally, not publicly, not even consciously - but in all the ways that mattered, she was his. And he liked to think she was beginning to sense it too, the way she would occasionally glance up and catch him watching her, only to give him a soft smile or a slight nod. His sweet little doll, still unaware of the strings coiling around her limbs.

But that peaceful illusion shattered one bright spring morning.

The office was buzzing with the usual Friday energy: coffee-fueled catchups, the hum of printers, and the annoying squeak of someone’s chair a few cubicles over. Suyeon had come in looking like a gods-blessed dream, as always - hair pulled back in that no-nonsense ponytail he loved so much, skirt hugging her hips just right, heels tapping out a rhythm he’d memorized months ago. San had been heading toward the main conference room to pick up some reports, already thinking of how he'd time his break so they could “accidentally” run into each other again.

But then it happened.

He saw Yeosang - quiet, polite, dumbass Yeosang - stand up from his desk as Suyeon walked by. San stopped in his tracks, half-shielded by the corner wall, the air in his lungs freezing.

"Suyeon-ssi," Yeosang called, his voice barely louder than a fucking whisper.

She paused and turned, smile already blooming across her lips. “Hey, Yeosang.”

San’s jaw clenched.

Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck like a goddamn schoolboy. “I... uh... I was wondering if you’d maybe want to... grab dinner with me tonight? After work?”

There was silence. San felt his blood roar in his ears.

Then Suyeon blushed. She actually fucking blushed. “Sure,” she said with a soft laugh. “Dinner sounds nice.”

Yeosang exhaled, grinning like he’d just won the fucking lottery. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Seven’s perfect.”

San didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He didn’t need to.

He turned and walked briskly toward the nearest bathroom, his fists clenched so hard the knuckles popped. The moment he was inside, he slammed the door closed with enough force to shake the mirror. A man at one of the sinks blinked at him, startled. San didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Get out,” he growled.

The guy didn’t need to be told twice. The door clicked shut again, leaving San alone with his fury.

His jaw clenched, eyes darkening as his nails bit into the soft skin of his palm. His breath hissed through his teeth. He’d been so good, so patient. Eighteen months of careful planning. Watching. Waiting. And now that little fuck - that quiet, glasses-wearing coward - had dared to touch what was his? The rage pulsed like a heartbeat as he approached the mirror and stared at his reflection.

His face looked wrong. Off. There was something in his eyes - something too deep, too wide, too ancient. A ripple passed over his features, like a veil being tugged the wrong way. His jaw stretched, too long for a moment, teeth sharper than they should’ve been. His pupils flared, black bleeding into the whites before retreating again. His human suit was slipping.

He gripped the sink, breathing through clenched teeth.

"So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Yeosang. That pretty little fucker with his bashful eyes and harmless smile. He was going to die for this. San would make sure of it. Not just because he touched what didn’t belong to him, but because he had the audacity to make Suyeon smile like that. To make her blush.

He’d fantasized about that blush for months. About the way her lips would part, the sound of his name breaking from her throat when she finally understood who she belonged to. And now Yeosang thought he could take that away?

“I’ve been so fucking patient,” he muttered, low and venomous. “I’ve waited. Watched. Built this life around her. And now this little worm thinks he can touch my doll?”

He tilted his head, and his lips twisted into a grin - too wide, too sharp, too damn wrong.

The lights above him flickered briefly.

No.

No fucking way.

No one gets to touch his doll and get away with it.

Not anymore.

Tonight, Yeosang would come to collect a woman who wasn’t his. And tonight, once Suyeon was safely behind closed doors, San would collect a soul.

He ran a hand over his face, the skin smoothing back into place with an eerie stretch-pop. When he looked back into the mirror, San smiled. He looked perfect again.

The monster had been awakened. And it was hungry for blood.

San stood across the street from the apartment complex, buried deep in the shadows between two brick buildings, his jacket hood pulled low over his brow. From where he was, he had the perfect view of Suyeon’s window - lit, warm, alive.

He watched her silhouette glide across the room like a fucking dream.

She was in a rush. He could tell by the way her figure darted past the curtains, once, twice, three times - back and forth between her bedroom and the living room. Probably checking her hair. Her makeup. Her dress.

All for that bastard.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. One hand was stuffed in his coat pocket, fingers curled into a tight fist, nails biting into his palm. The other held his phone, screen dark, camera off - but open to record, just in case. He always recorded the things he loved most. Sometimes it was for nostalgia. Sometimes it was for proof. Sometimes it was to relive.

Through the glass, Suyeon appeared again - this time closer. He caught a flash of her bare shoulder. Her hair was pulled half-up, curling gently at the ends. She was smiling, laughing at fucking Wooyoung.

San narrowed his eyes. That little shit was bouncing around her like a goddamn puppy, waving his arms, clearly grilling her with questions.

From here he could only hear snippets of their conversation.

"You know, for someone studying psych, you’re really goddamn nosy!” Suyeon shouted as she stuffed a lipstick tube into her purse.

“Psych majors have to be nosy. It’s in the job description,” Wooyoung shot back, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You’re just pissed I won’t tell you what I’m wearing.”

“I saw the dress when you tried it on, noona. It’s practically fucking illegal.”

"Language!" she barked, then let out a laugh that San wanted to bottle and drink.

A car horn honked outside. San’s stomach flipped. Yeosang.

Suyeon grabbed her purse, turned once to fluff her hair in the mirror, and then - fuck. She finally stepped into full view.

The dress was short, black, and tight in all the right ways. Just enough cleavage to tease, just enough leg to make his blood boil. He saw the look on Wooyoung’s face as he blinked rapidly and turned away, muttering something under his breath.

San nearly growled. She shouldn’t be dressing like that for him. She should be wearing it for me.

Suyeon hugged her brother and made her way out the door, humming to herself. San watched her descend the stairs with an easy, excited bounce in her step, and by the time she climbed into Yeosang’s passenger seat, he was already moving. Silent. Invisible. Tailored to kill.

The restaurant Yeosang picked was some trendy, upscale spot in the heart of the city - elegant lighting, couples murmuring over candlelit tables, overpriced wine. San found his perch near the back entrance, wedged between dumpsters in the alley, one eye pressed to the window through a barely-visible crack in the curtain.

They were seated by the window. He could see everything.

Suyeon was glowing. Laughing. Twirling her wine glass between her fingers as she leaned in when Yeosang spoke. San’s nails scraped the brick beneath his fingers. Her shoulders were relaxed. She was fucking comfortable.

She shouldn’t be.

Inside, at the table…

“Alright,” Yeosang said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “that’s three compliments in a row. If I say one more, I’m gonna start sounding like a creep.”

Suyeon laughed into her wine. “Then stop talking and enjoy the food, loverboy.”

They grinned at each other.

Truthfully, Suyeon had been nervous. This was her first real date in a while - and her first ever with someone from work. But Yeosang had always been easy to be around. He wasn’t flashy or overconfident. He listened. He asked good questions. And he had this sweet awkwardness that made her feel oddly at ease.

He cut into his steak, then paused and said, “Can I ask something weird?”

Suyeon tilted her head. “Only if I can laugh if it is weird.”

He smiled, then dropped his voice just slightly. “It’s about San.”

That made her blink.

“Choi San?” she asked, a little slower.

“Yeah.” He hesitated, eyes flicking away for a second before landing on her again. “Does he ever… I dunno. Give you a weird vibe?”

There was a pause. A subtle shift in the air.

Suyeon’s fingers curled around her fork, and suddenly the room felt just a touch colder.

“What do you mean?”

Yeosang looked uncomfortable now. “I don’t know, really. He’s just… hard to read. And there’s something about the way he watches people. Especially you.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out at first. She hadn’t thought much of it before - San was always polite, always helpful. Quiet. But now, with Yeosang saying it out loud, she remembered all those moments when she’d turned around to find San already looking at her. The way he always seemed to appear near her desk. The way he never said much, but always smiled like he knew something no one else did.

A chill slid down her spine.

“I’m probably overthinking it,” Yeosang said quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just… you know, be careful. Okay?”

She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice just yet.

Neither of them saw the figure pressed against the dark window, a glint of hunger in his eyes and a grin curling at the edges of his lips.

After dinner, Yeosang opened the car door for her like a goddamn gentleman. San watched from the shadows as they drove off, memorizing the license plate with a cold, deliberate stare.

He kept pace from a distance - motorcycle purring as he trailed them back toward Suyeon’s neighborhood, weaving between cars like smoke.

She got out. She smiled at Yeosang. She leaned in close to say something.

San’s fingers twitched.

Then the door shut behind her, cutting her off from the world. From him.

He didn’t stay to watch the light come on. He turned his head, eyes following Yeosang’s car as it pulled away, fading into traffic.

It was time.

Yeosang’s apartment complex was quiet - quiet enough for San to hear the blood pumping through his own ears.

From the shadows of a nearby alley, he watched the headlights fade as Yeosang parked, shut off the engine, and climbed out of his car. The idiot didn’t even lock the doors. He was too distracted. Probably thinking about how soft Suyeon’s laugh was or how her perfume still lingered on his shirt. Too busy basking in the memory of her smile to notice the fucking monster trailing behind him like a ghost.

San followed him, silent and precise, every movement calculated.

Yeosang made his way up the steps two at a time, apartment keys jingling in his palm. San mirrored him, staying exactly seven feet behind. Close enough to act, far enough to remain unseen.

As Yeosang fumbled with the lock, San exhaled slowly and dropped the veil - just enough. Just enough to melt into the shadows clinging to the hallway like mold. The illusion settled over him like ink, folding light around his body, bending space and sound so he moved like water.

The lock clicked open.

Yeosang stepped inside. San followed.

And the door closed with a soft click behind them both.

At first, he simply watched.

He lingered in the corners of the apartment - sometimes behind the coat rack, sometimes half-phased into the kitchen wall. Eyes glowing faintly beneath the illusion. Hunger curling in his gut like a coil of smoke.

Yeosang moved through his routine without a clue: he poured a glass of water, stripped off his jacket, changed into loose black sweatpants and a t-shirt. He even scrolled through his phone for a little while, oblivious to the other presence in the room with him. The wrongness.

That was always the best part.

San didn’t want to kill him yet. No, that would be too kind. First, he wanted to unravel him.

So, the illusions began.

A breath of cold air across the back of Yeosang’s neck - where no windows were open. The TV flickering on and off. A woman’s voice whispering from the hallway. The faint creak of the bedroom door… when Yeosang was already inside it.

And it escalated.

He let Yeosang catch glimpses of him - just enough. A reflection in the mirror. A man-shaped blur in the corner of his vision. Once, San let the scent of Suyeon’s perfume fill the room just long enough for Yeosang to freeze in confusion.

The fucker kept shaking his head like he was trying to shake off a nightmare.

“You’re not losing your mind,” San whispered once from under the bed, his voice cloaked in static. “You’re just finally seeing things clearly.” Yeosang jumped so hard he nearly fell over.

By 4 AM, Yeosang had stopped trying to sleep.

By 5 AM, he was sitting on the floor in his living room, knees pulled to his chest, whispering to himself.

By 6 AM, the sky was beginning to pale, and San decided it was time.

He let the illusion slip - just a little. Enough that Yeosang saw him this time. Not a blur, not a shadow, but him. Choi San, but wrong.

His eyes were too dark. His smile too wide. His body moved like it didn’t have bones. The illusion was still loose around the edges - his skin shimmered like oil in places, and his fingers twitched like spider legs.

Yeosang froze. He couldn’t even speak.

San stepped out of the bedroom shadows like a fucking horror movie villain and tilted his head, watching Yeosang tremble.

“Still think I’m just a little off?” he asked, his voice low, honeyed, and lethal.

Yeosang bolted.

He made it as far as the kitchen before San was on him, slamming him into the wall with such force the plaster cracked. His hands closed around Yeosang’s throat with inhuman strength, and the illusion shattered entirely.

Now the thing called San stood fully revealed - nothing hidden. He was death in human form.

“Please-” Yeosang choked out, eyes bulging.

San grinned. His voice echoed, layered with something dark and timeless. “Oh, now you wanna talk? I thought we had a weird vibe going. What happened, Yeosang? What happened to being the fucking charming coworker?”

Yeosang’s hands clawed at San’s wrists, but there was no escape. San’s fingers tightened.

Then - he let go.

Yeosang crumpled to the floor, coughing, gasping for breath. And that’s when the real work began.

The next few hours were a symphony.

It wasn’t rage that fueled San. It wasn’t even hate. It was devotion - twisted, pure, and holy in its own way. Every cut was made with intent. Every scream was a note in the music he was composing with Yeosang’s body. San worked with care. Precision. He didn’t rush art.

He started with the fingertips. Peeled the nails back slowly, one by one, listening to the wet crack of cartilage. Then he broke Yeosang’s fingers one by one, humming to himself as he did. Then came the teeth, loosened with a screwdriver he found in a drawer, cracked out with a satisfying pop using pliers - the same pliers Yeosang used for his DIY shelf projects. Ironic. Fitting. Yeosang begged, cried, screamed so loudly San had to press his palm over his mouth just to keep the neighbors from calling the cops.

Then came the skin. Delicate, artistic slices. Layer after layer. The chest. The thighs. The face.

He cut his name into Yeosang’s forehead. S A N. Deep enough to scar, if Yeosang would’ve lived long enough to scar.

There were screams. So many fucking screams. And San savored each one.

But the best part?

The eyes.

Eyes always told the story. San left one intact for the entire ordeal, so Yeosang could watch what was happening to him. Could watch the world go red. Could see how his body was being rearranged like a puppet with broken strings.

He tilted Yeosang’s head gently, like a lover, and whispered against what was left of his ear: “You were never good enough for her.”

Yeosang didn’t reply. He couldn’t.

His heart had given out ten minutes ago.

And now that Yeosang had finally - finally - stopped breathing, San sucked in a long breath and exhaled slowly, staring at his masterpiece.

The room was drenched in blood. It dripped down the walls. Pooled into the mattress. Soaked the carpet. Yeosang’s body was a horror show - limbs bent at impossible angles, flesh flayed like paper, entrails curled like ribbons along the floor.

San stood in the middle of it all, barefoot and untouched. His human disguise shimmered back into place around him, clean and calm. Like nothing had ever happened.

As he stepped out of the apartment, not a single drop of crimson clung to his skin. He glanced up at the sky and smiled up at the midday sun.

It was the weekend.

No one would miss Yeosang until Monday.

«-Previous | Next-»

[tkdb-hell]

Little Mini Thing about my oc Zero's unrequited crush on Subaru with some Sho/Subaru mixed in

OC CONTENT! If you're not interested in that, just skip this post ♡

Just my Luck

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over Darkwick’s campus. Zero Yōgai sauntered toward Highway to Home, hands shoved deep into his pockets, hoping for a chance to catch Subaru Kagami alone. He hadn’t planned on running into Subaru today—it was one of those spontaneous urges he got, like maybe, just maybe, the universe might cut him some slack for once.

Yeah, right. Like that ever happens.

He was almost at the food truck when he saw Subaru already there, standing at the counter and chatting with Sho Haizono. Zero paused, instinctively taking a step back and slipping behind a nearby tree. He wasn’t spying. He was… observing. Yeah, that sounded better.

Subaru looked as calm and composed as ever, a small, polite smile gracing his face. He had that natural, effortless charm Zero found maddeningly attractive. Meanwhile, Sho, ever the laid-back delinquent, leaned casually against the counter, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. From Zero's angle, it looked like a typical exchange, nothing special—until Subaru laughed.

Not his usual polite chuckle, but an actual, genuine laugh. The kind that lit up his whole face, making his eyes crinkle at the edges.

Zero's heart gave an uncomfortable twist. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.

He didn’t need his probability-warping Stigma to figure out where this was going. He could already feel the sinking weight in his gut, the familiar sensation of reality smacking him in the face. Subaru wasn’t just being polite with Sho. He was into him.

Sho, of all people. The multitalented Vagastrom jack-of-all-trades who could cook, fight, and charm his way through any situation without breaking a sweat. Zero felt a pang of frustration—and maybe a little envy—because, of course, Subaru would be into someone like that. Someone who wasn’t constantly sabotaged by their own Stigma.

He clenched his fists in his pockets, forcing himself to take a steady breath. It wasn’t like he had a chance to begin with. Subaru was kind to everyone, and Zero had probably just misread things because he wanted to see something that wasn’t there. Typical. His luck had a way of turning hope into disappointment in record time.

As Subaru thanked Sho and took his food, Kōji made a decision. He’d go up, grab something to eat, and act like nothing was wrong. No point in sulking. If Subaru was happy, that was what mattered, right? Even if it wasn’t with him.

He stepped out from behind the tree, plastering on a casual grin as he approached the truck. Sho noticed him first. “Yo, Kōji. Eggplant parm again?” Sho grinned, knowing full well Zero's ongoing, hopeless campaign to get him to make it.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Zero said, rolling his eyes. “Just gimme whatever you’ve got ready.”

As Sho started prepping his order, Subaru turned to Zero, still holding his food. “Kōji, I didn’t expect to see you here. How have you been?”

“Same old, same old,” Zero replied, keeping his tone light. “Trying not to let my Stigma ruin my day, you know how it is.” He added a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Subaru smiled softly, his usual warmth evident. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you make it sound.”

Zero wanted to believe that, but right now, all he could focus on was how close Subaru had stood to Sho, how easily they had laughed together. He shrugged it off with a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”

Their conversation didn’t last long. Subaru waved goodbye after a few more pleasantries, leaving Zero alone with his thoughts as Shohei handed over his food.

“You good, man?” Sho asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed Zero's unusually quiet demeanor.

Zero gave a half-hearted grin. “Yeah, just thinking.” He took his food and turned away before Sho could press further.

As he walked back toward Sinostra, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar sting of disappointment. Maybe he should’ve known better than to hope for something more. But even so, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder—what if, just once, his luck could turn around?

“Keep dreaming, Zero,” he muttered to himself. “Keep dreaming.”

[lura-valentine]

Hintes

This fanfiction was created before I knew what exactly I wanted to do with my OC Rain

➡️ click her for Rain's Profil ⬅️

+16 Content

With the exception of Rain, all characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes.

Trigger Warning

This is about a near-rape. The dilemma of my OFC is described, but it does not come to a rape.

Don't touch her

The bar was dark and smoky, a place where one could easily hide in the shadows. The room was dimly lit, the light casting long shadows that enveloped the corners of the room in darkness. Rain sat on one of the high bar stools, her red eyes sparkling in the dim light as she twirled a glass of a dark amber drink in her hand. Her black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and her wings were drawn close to her back, like a bird of prey ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Shigaraki sat across from her, his pale skin and the eerie hand on his face standing out against the darkness. He seemed restless, his fingers twitching nervously and scratching lightly on the counter, testifying to his tension. His red eyes, cold and unpredictable, sought Rain's gaze, but she stubbornly looked away.

"We have no choice," Shigaraki finally said, his voice sharp and tense. "The city offers us the perfect location. No one will look for us under a bridge, and the heroes..." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if it were nothing, "...are too stupid to suspect us there."

Rain slammed the glass down on the counter, a soft clink echoing through the room. "Too close to the hero agencies," she answered with icy calm. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to him. "You know full well that we cannot afford that risk."

"A risk?" Shigaraki laughed mockingly, a cold, hollow sound. "Risks are what we take every day. You're not usually this scared, Rain. Are you afraid you're not strong enough?"

Rain narrowed her eyes and hissed as she felt the anger rising within her. "This has nothing to do with fear, Shigaraki," she replied, her voice quieter now but full of venom. "It's about strategy. If we operate too close to the heroes, we give them a chance to find us. And I will not allow all our efforts to be ruined because of your recklessness."

"Recklessness?" He leaned forward and clenched his hands into fists, pressing them tightly against the counter. "You don't understand what's at stake here, Rain. We need this hideout and we need it now. If you're not going to accept that, then..." 

"And then?" Rain jumped up from her chair, spreading her wings slightly as she stood to her full height. "Are you going to force me? Send me into this trap against my will?" Her voice was now a dangerous mix of anger and wounded pride.

Twice, who had been sitting in the corner of the room and listening in silence, twitched nervously. "Hey, hey, guys, calm down," he tried to mediate with his hands raised. "We shouldn't argue, we're a team, right?"

But neither Rain nor Shigaraki paid him any attention. The tension between them was palpable as they stared at each other, neither of them willing to give in.

"It's not about forcing you," Shigaraki said finally, his voice colder now, more distant. "It's about you understanding that I'm the one who makes the decisions. And you..." He paused, his words heavy as lead. "...you have to follow them."

Rain felt the anger rising in her chest, hot like the dark red flames burning deep within her. "You..." She narrowed her eyes, her feathers beginning to quiver slightly as if they could burst into flames at any moment. "You're not the only one making decisions here and who has something to lose."

Shigaraki remained silent, staring at her with narrowed eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head slowly, as if trying to shake off an invisible burden.

"I've had enough," Rain said suddenly, her voice sharp and determined. She turned and flapped her wings slightly as she headed for the door. "If you're so stubborn, do it alone, but don't expect me to follow you to your doom."

Kurogiri, who had been standing behind the bar and quietly watching the proceedings, stepped forward. "Rain, please..." he began in his deep, calm voice, but Rain just raised his hand to silence him.

"Not now, Kurogiri," she said without turning around. Her hand was already on the door, which she yanked open with a violent jerk. "Not now."

With one last angry look at Shigaraki, she disappeared into the darkness of the night, the door slamming behind her with a loud bang.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Shigaraki sat motionless, his eyes staring at the door through which Rain had disappeared, but a storm raged in his head.

"That was...not good," Twice muttered, looking cautiously over at Shigaraki, who was still motionless. Himiko, who had been sitting at the counter playing with a small knife, looked up and shrugged. "Couples argue. It's normal, right?"

But Kurogiri knew better. He approached Shigaraki, his dark figure almost protective as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "You know she's not just speaking for herself, Tomura. She's thinking about the whole thing. Maybe you should too."

Shigaraki blinked as if he had woken up from a dream and slowly turned his head to look at Kurogiri. "You mean I should give in?"

"Don't give in," Kurogiri corrected gently. "Listen. Sometimes leadership isn't about stubbornly imposing your own will, but about acknowledging the wisdom of others. Rain isn't your enemy. She is..."

"My comrade and... friend," Shigaraki interrupted, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. "Yes, I know that. But she... she makes it so damn hard for me."

"Because it challenges you," Kurogiri said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "And that's something you need."

Shigaraki sighed deeply and then stood up. "I'm going to her."

"That's a good decision," Kurogiri said as he watched Shigaraki walk toward the door. "Maybe... this time you'll talk less and listen more."

Shigaraki nodded briefly without turning around, then stepped out the door into the night to look for Rain. The street in front of him was silent and deserted. The lanterns cast a faint light on the cobblestones that disappeared into the darkness. Only occasionally a shadow would dart across the street, a stray hiding in the corners or a cat looking for food. The city seemed deserted, and the threatening rain clouds moving across the sky added to the oppressive atmosphere.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked out over the street. The silence was almost deafening, except for the faint rustle of the wind blowing through the alleys. He could see Rain nowhere, no sign of her, only the loneliness echoing in the night. A low growl escaped his throat as he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly walked down the street.

"If someone had told me that a relationship could be so stressful..." he muttered to himself, a hint of cynicism in his words. "I would never have agreed to it."

But now it was too late. She was more than just an ally, she was his friend, a part of him that he couldn't easily shake off even if he wanted to. The thought of losing her sent a wave of unease through him, a fear he wasn't used to.

He turned a corner and looked around the area, searching for a sign of her in the darkness. But the street was almost deserted, only the clatter of his footsteps echoed. The sky was now almost completely covered by heavy clouds and he knew it wouldn't be long before it started to rain.

Shigaraki slowed his steps as he noticed something on the ground. Right in front of him, in the dim light of the lanterns, lay a single feather. It was unmistakable, a black feather that shimmered deep red in the light. He knelt down, picked up the feather, and ran it through his finger. It was one of Rain's feathers, he knew that for sure.

But before he could think about it any further, something else caught his eye. Just inches from the feather, half hidden in the shadows, lay a small object. Shigaraki reached for it and picked it up. A syringe. Turning it over in his hand, he immediately recognized the packaging. A Quirk Suppressant. The label was half rubbed off, but he knew this guy all too well. It was the same substance the heroes occasionally used to temporarily incapacitate dangerous villains.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the syringe. Rain's feather along with that medicine? His heartbeat quickened, a dark premonition creeping into his consciousness. It was no coincidence that these things were here. He felt the anger growing inside him, his fingers tightening around the syringe, which instantly crumbled to dust.

He slowly stood up and looked down the street until he saw more feathers on the ground that looked like a trail. The realization hit him like a punch in the stomach: Rain might have been kidnapped. The thought that someone had laid a hand on her, that someone might have hurt her, made the anger inside him boil over.

With grim determination, he set off, following the trail of feathers. His steps quickened, and the possibility that Rain was in danger swirled in his mind. He had only one thought: to find her and destroy those who would harm her.

Suddenly, a shrill scream broke the silence of the night. "Let me go!" It was Rain, her voice full of desperation and anger. Without hesitation, Shigaraki ran, his heart racing in his chest as he followed the scream. 

As he rounded the next corner, he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the shocking sight before him. Rain was lying on the ground, her wings spread and twitching, unable to unfold. Two men held her down, their hands pressing her mercilessly into the dirt while a third man knelt on top of her. This third man ripped the clothes from her body with rough, violent movements as Rain struggled desperately. Her eyes flashed with anger and panic, but it was obvious that her Quirk was suppressed, she was powerless.

Shigaraki recognized the men immediately. They were not ordinary thugs, but members of Overhaul's Yakuza. Their presence here was a clear sign that this was no coincidence. They were specifically after Rain. 

His hands clenched into fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. For a brief moment, a dizzying rage rose within him, clouding his thoughts like a storm. Without hesitation, he marched toward the group with long, determined strides, his hands beginning to shake, not from fear or nervousness, but from the urge to end their lives.

"Hands off her!" growled Shigaraki, his voice deep and threatening, like a predator seeing its prey for the first time. His hand, which he held out, was no longer shaking, but filled with absolute certainty.

The man kneeling on Rain was the first to notice Shigaraki and turned abruptly. With a quick, precise grip, Shigaraki placed his fingers on the man's face. He felt the skin begin to change beneath his fingers, the flesh beneath begin to dissolve as if it were crumbling under an invisible force. The man opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out, only a silent scream as his body crumbled to dust beneath Shigaraki's touch. In a few seconds, nothing was left of him, just a small cloud of dust carried away by the light wind.

The other two men still holding Rain stared at Shigaraki, their faces twisted in pure fear. But before they could even react, Shigaraki turned to them. "Your turn," he said in a low, almost casual voice that dripped with deadly intent.

One of the two tried to let go of Rain and back away, but Shigaraki was faster. He grabbed the man by the arm and in a split second he too began to dissolve into nothing. The horrific sight caused the last man to crawl away in fear. 

Shigaraki drew himself up to his full height and stepped menacingly towards the last attacker. "Do you think you can escape from someone like me?" he asked quietly, the anger in his voice barely under control. He grabbed the man by the neck and with a final, merciless squeeze of his fingers, he too crumbled to dust and dissolved into the cool night air.

The street was quiet again, only the distant rumble of thunder heralded the approaching rain. Shigaraki stood still for a moment, his hands shaking slightly, not from exhaustion but from intense tension. His gaze fell on Rain, who was still lying on the ground, her breathing shallow and uneven, her eyes wide with shock and relief.

He knelt beside her, his hands now gentle, almost tender, as he carefully lifted her up. "It's over," he whispered, his anger now replaced by worry and care. "No one will ever hurt you again."

Rain, still under the influence of the drug, could only nod weakly. She clung to him, her body shaking slightly, but Shigaraki held her tightly, determined not to let go so easily.

"Shigaraki..." she whispered, her voice shaking as if she could barely comprehend what had just happened. It wasn't just the shock that left her speechless, but the fact that he had to save her, that had put her in such a situation.

"I'm here," he answered quietly, his voice calm but the fire of anger still burning in his eyes. Without hesitation, he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and lifted her gently but firmly into his arms. The contrast between the brutality he had just shown and the tenderness with which he now held her was almost surreal.

Rain leaned her head on his shoulder and slowly closed her eyes as she curled up in his arms like a wounded creature seeking protection. Shigaraki felt her body tremble slightly and held her tighter as if to protect her from all the evil in the world.

He carried her down the street, back to the bar. The rain began to fall in thick drops from the sky, the streets glittered in the dim light of the lanterns, but Shigaraki paid no attention. His only thought was to get Rain to safety.

When he reached the bar, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. The warm light and familiar sounds of the place greeted him, but the conversations immediately stopped when Twice, Himiko, and Kurogiri noticed him. Their eyes widened when they saw Rain in his arms, and their gazes jumped between her and Shigaraki, realizing that something bad must have happened.

"What the hell happened?" Twice asked, his voice a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Rain... is she hurt?"

"Shigaraki-sama..." Kurogiri began, but Shigaraki interrupted him with a sharp look.

"Not now," he growled, his eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "Get us something to drink and leave us alone."

Toga, who would normally have made a mocking remark in such moments, remained silent. Her gaze rested on Rain and a strange mixture of concern and quiet anger flashed across her face. She said nothing, but just nodded silently and disappeared behind the bar to get the drinks they had ordered.

Shigaraki walked with Rain in his arms to his usual spot, a large leather chair positioned so that he could see the entire bar. He sat down slowly, holding her tightly to him, as if he was afraid she might slip away if he let go.

Rain still clung to him, her breathing slowly calming down, but she said nothing. His closeness gave her a feeling of security that she desperately needed after what she had just experienced.

"You're safe," Shigaraki whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. "I won't let anything like that happen to you again."

"It... it was Overhaul's men..." Rain's voice was weak when she finally spoke, her words faltering as she voiced the memory. "They wanted... I couldn't do anything..."

"I know," he answered calmly, but the anger still glowed in his eyes. "They're dead now. No one will ever do that to you again, you understand? No one."

Toga came back, wordlessly placing a glass of water on the table next to them, then stepped back as if to make sure she wasn't disturbing them. Twice was also reserved, seeming almost unnaturally quiet, betraying his usual split personality.

"Shigaraki-sama," Kurogiri ventured again, his voice calm but full of concern. "Should I secure the area? There could be more of Overhaul's men on the way."

Shigaraki looked up at him, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Yes, do that. And find out how they found us. That can't happen again."

Kurogiri nodded and disappeared into a dark vortex to carry out the order. Rain felt Shigaraki turn back to her and tighten his grip on her, as if he wanted to calm her down with his presence alone.

"Shigaraki..." Rain whispered again, this time her voice sounded a little stronger, but she was still shaking slightly. "I... I'm sorry I was so weak..."

"Weak?" His voice sounded almost surprised, then he shook his head slightly. "You're not weak, Rain. You were caught off guard, your quirk was suppressed, that's all. There's nothing to apologize for."

She closed her eyes and took in his words as she snuggled closer to him. "I should have... I should have been stronger," she murmured, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"It doesn't matter," he answered softly, his lips almost touching her hair as he spoke. "You're here with me. That's all that matters."

The bar went quiet again, except for the gentle patter of rain, now hitting the windows harder. Shigaraki sat there, Rain tightly in his arms, while Himiko and Twice kept a respectful distance, their eyes full of silent concern and unspoken questions.

Twice sat in the corner of the bar, his face tense, his hands nervously kneading the back of his chair. He watched Shigaraki, who continued to hold Rain tightly in his arms, like a predator defending its prey. But there was more to his gaze, something soft that was rarely seen in Shigaraki's eyes. It was a mixture of concern, protectiveness, and uncontrollable anger that lurked like a seething mass just beneath the surface.

Twice couldn't take it anymore. The silence, the tension in the air and, above all, the image of Rain lying so vulnerable in Shigaraki's arms. "I... I'm just going..." he murmured, more to himself than to the others, as he stood up and hurried up the stairs to the rooms on the upper floor.

"Where are you going?" Toga asked quietly and followed him with his eyes as he disappeared, but he did not hear her.

Once upstairs, Twice searched through a closet and finally found what he was looking for - a thick, warm blanket. "This will help," he muttered to himself as he hurried back downstairs. "Rain needs this now, she's probably cold because of the wetness..."

He returned to the bar, his movements cautious, almost hesitant, as he approached Shigaraki and Rain, the blanket folded carefully over his arm and a look of concern and determination in his eyes.

"Here, Rain," he said quietly when he was close enough to her. "I thought this might help you feel a little better..."

He lifted the blanket, ready to gently wrap it around Rain, but at that moment, Shigaraki raised his head and stared at him. The look he gave him made Twice pause. It was a look as cutting as a knife. Sharp and piercing, as if he was ready at that moment to tear to pieces anyone who came too close to Rain, even if it was one of his own people.

Twice froze, his hands shaking slightly as he still held the blanket. "I just wanted to..." he began uncertainly, but Shigaraki didn't interrupt him, instead keeping his gaze fixed on him.

Rain sensed Shigaraki's tension, raised her head slightly and looked at Twice. Her eyes met his and she recognized the compassion and warmth in his gaze. "It's okay," she whispered softly, her voice weak but still reassuring. "He... he just wants to help."

Shigaraki took a deep breath, his eyes flickering briefly before he finally nodded slightly, a barely perceptible sign that he allowed it. He understood the gesture, the need to comfort Rain, to warm her, and he let Twice do that, even though he found it difficult to let anyone get so close to her.

"Thank you," Twice murmured as he carefully placed the blanket over Rain. He moved slowly so as not to startle her, making sure the blanket covered her completely so she could feel the warmth. "It'll do you good, Rain. You're safe here... with us."

Rain smiled weakly, her lips trembling slightly as she pulled the soft blanket around herself. "Thank you, Twice," she said quietly, her voice full of relief and gratitude.

Shigaraki watched the whole thing in silence, but when the blanket was wrapped around Rain, he immediately pulled her tightly against him again, as if to make sure that no one and nothing could take her away from him. His hand ran soothingly through her hair while he pressed her head to his chest and he felt her body gradually relax.

Twice took a step back, his gaze still fixed on Rain. "I... I'll go then..." he said quietly and looked at Shigaraki. "If you need anything else..."

"That's enough," Shigaraki replied curtly, his voice rough but not hostile. "Thank you, Twice."

Twice nodded quickly and retreated. He sat back down in the corner of the bar, his eyes still on the couple who now remained silent.

Rain breathed in and out slowly, her head resting safely on Shigaraki's chest while his arms held her tight. Nothing was more threatening to him at that moment than the thought that he could have lost her.

With a loud bang, the bar's door flew open and the violent storm raging outside burst in with an icy gust. Dabi, Spinner, and Mr. Compress entered, their clothes soaked and sticking to their bodies. Drops of water ran from Dabi's black coat to the floor while Spinner nervously removed the hood of his jacket. His scaly face was pale from the cold. Mr. Compress, on the other hand, shook off his top hat while removing the soaked mask from his face.

"Damn weather," Dabi grumbled, rubbing his hands as he crossed the room. "I hate it when it rains like this."

Spinner grimaced as he unzipped his soaked jacket and looked at the group in the bar with a pained expression. "We could have saved ourselves that."

Mr. Compress shook his mask to get rid of the water. "Well, at least we're back and can warm up," he said with humor, although he noticed his comrades' discontent. "And maybe we should put on some dry clothes..."

But when the three of them entered the bar, they immediately sensed that something was wrong. The atmosphere was depressing, almost oppressive, and those present looked worriedly at Shigaraki and Rain, who were still slumped in the large armchair.

Dabi's eyes narrowed as he quickly scanned the room. "What the hell...?" He noticed Rain's messy hair, the dark circles under her eyes, and the way Shigaraki held her protectively. The blanket hung loosely around her shoulders, but she was still shivering slightly.

"What's going on here?" Spinner asked, his voice filled with curiosity and growing concern. He stepped closer to the group, his eyes searching the faces of his comrades for an explanation.

Mr. Compress's expression lost its usual composure as he took in the scene. He took a step forward, his voice calm, almost gentle, as he asked, "Rain... are you... okay?"

Rain raised her head slightly, but could only nod weakly before pressing herself tightly against Shigaraki's chest again. She was both physically and emotionally exhausted and seemed at a loss for words.

"Where is Kurogiri?" Dabi suddenly asked, his gaze moving from Rain to Twice. "And what the hell happened?"

Twice looked directly at Dabi, his usual double meaning missing at this moment, instead there was only deep, serious concern in his voice. "Kurogiri is on his way to make sure there are no remnants of Overhaul's men left nearby. It... it was close."

Dabi growled quietly and clenched his hands into fists, trying to control the flood of emotions boiling up inside him. "Overhaul's men, you say? What did they do?"

"They dared to attack Rain," Shigaraki hissed, his voice ice cold. His eyes flashed dangerously and the air in the bar seemed to get even heavier for a moment. "They thought they could attack my Rain... but they miscalculated."

Dabi felt his own anger rising, mixed with an eerie sense of anticipation. "So none of those bastards are still alive, right?"

Shigaraki looked down at Rain briefly, his hand gently stroking her hair, before looking back at Dabi. "Yes."

"Good," Dabi said simply, the blue fire flickering on his hand as his resolve grew. "I hope you made her suffer slowly."

"Slowly enough," Shigaraki replied, pulling Rain even closer to him as if he wanted to erase the memory of what had happened. "But this isn't over yet. We're going to make Overhaul pay for this."

"What... can we do?" Mr. Compress asked carefully, his voice still cautious. "When Kurogiri comes back, we can talk and..."

"I need you here now," Shigaraki interrupted. "Secure the bar. We don't know if it was just those men or if there are more of them lurking nearby. No one is coming in here, understand?"

Dabi, Spinner and Mr. Compress nodded, their seriousness was now palpable. Each of them felt the deep bond in this group, the unwritten rule that none of them would be left alone when things got serious.

"We're ready," Dabi said firmly, walking back to the door with determined steps and watchful eyes. "And if any more of Overhaul's men show up here, I'll burn them to ashes before they have a chance."

Spinner and Mr. Compress followed, carrying their own worries and anger, and took up positions to protect the bar, determined to defend their comrades and friends, whatever the cost.

[sehtoast]

Caught (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 4k words | masturbation, underwear sniffing, getting caught, mirrorlander, mirrorlander vs homelander, slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, p in v sex, premature ejaculation, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

He takes a deep breath, holds it, savors it, then releases it slowly.  

Delicious.

He’s been snooping again.  Well, it’s not like he ever stopped and, really, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to– which he doesn’t.  Benjamin’s room is rife with all sorts of little odds and ends that help satiate that desire to know more about the web-head.  Papers, books, trinkets, hobbies, clothes…

Especially the clothes.

He’s been in here before with Benjamin. Had to act like he didn’t already know the layout so intimately.  Like he hasn’t been breaking in regularly and browsing to his heart’s content.  Like he hasn’t been doing this.

He takes another deep breath.

Like he hasn’t been huffing Benjamin’s dirty laundry.

He holds it tight, letting his eyes flutter shut.

But not just any dirty laundry.  Clenched in his bare fist is a pair of black boxer briefs, wrinkled from sitting in the hamper.  He presses the crotch of them to his nose and inhales over and over again, memorizing the scent, the taste of his little spider.

He’s leaned back, half sat on the foot of the bed as he indulges with a hand around his weeping cock. He strokes himself slow, taking his time.  He imagines what he’d do with his face buried in Ben’s cunt, imagines the taste, the scent, the heat.  His tongue laves over the fabric and he moans brokenly.

Oh, he’s wanted this for some time now… Watching the bug, following him around. Basking in their shared moments. He imagines how easy it would be, too.  Just one kiss, hot and needy, would convey all he needs. What would it be like to have Ben’s hand in place of his own?  Those soft digits wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly and working him into deep breaths and needy moans– how would they feel?  Ben would whisper in his ear, sing his praises, tell him how good he is.  He fucking knows it.  Johnny, he’d say, why don’t you let go for me?

Oh, and he would.  He’d spill so quickly it’d be downright humiliating.

His mind clouds with so many fantasies that he can hardly pick one to be his undoing.  Ben’s lips around his cock, his pussy stretched deep, fucked within an inch of his life.  All the while, Homelander moans unabashedly into the fabric.

It’s so good, so fucking good–

“Johnny…”

That’s right, say my name! C’’mon, say it!  Say my fucking name!

He starts to fuck carelessly into his grip, fist pressing the fabric harder against his face.

Oh fuck, fuck yeah– little whore, mine, all mine…

And it feels so good, he can’t–

“Johnny?”

A raspy hum rattles from his chest, pinching off in a tight little moan as he spills his load, fucking his fist with languid rolls of his hips.

“Mm, fuck, Ben… God…”  He groans against the fabric.  He stands there in perfect bliss, eyes shut, warm and relaxed as he comes down from his high.  When he does finally open them again, he navigates the process of wiping his hand on his pants and getting himself zipped up.  He’s still dazed but, when he glances back up, he’s shocked clear into coherency and halts putting himself back together entirely. 

Wide eyes meet in stunned silence.

In the doorway stands Benjamin, jaw practically on the floor, gaze flitting from Homelander’s face to the underwear gripped tight in his left hand, then down to his cock.  The bug’s face burns a deep crimson as he connects the dots, but his eyes continue darting up and down. 

Homelander doesn’t know what to say, doesn't know what to do. He should’ve never let his guard down to indulge like this; he should’ve kept his eyes and ears open for Benjamin.  He fucked up.  He fucked up bad.  He’s probably single handedly ruined his relationship with not only the best friend he’s ever had, but with the man he’s developed more than just simple lust for.

“I–”  He tries, but his voice comes out strained.  “Uhm…”  He looks down, shame burning deep in his gut under Ben’s shocked gaze. 

“Wow…” Is all Benjamin says in response.  It scares Homelander to bits, not being able to read his tone.

And he just stands there, guilty as ever with those boxer briefs clutched in his grip, cock still hanging between his zipper.

“So, uh…” Ben starts again, shifting in place.  “How long you been doing this?”

Homelander doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to answer.  How does he salvage this, how does he fix it?  He can’t just say this is the first time, that’d be too obvious–

“I–”

Fuck.  Fuck.  Now he has to say something, and quick.

Let me. Sings that devious voice in his head, all too eager to take the reins.  Homelander, all too relieved to let go and escape the shame, relents immediately.  The change happens in a flash.

“Benjamin,” he tuts with a cock of his head.  “What kind of question is that, hm?”

The bug bristles at the change in his demeanor– probably that sixth sense of his tattling on the shift.  From within the safe confines of his mind, Homelander practically begs:  Please, please be gentle with him.  He’s good to us, remember?

“Come here,” he demands, a finger pointed to his boot as if he meant to beckon a dog.  He watches with a sick, satisfied grin as Ben comes forward timidly, lips parted, hand all but outstretched to show no ill intent. 

The web-head has met this alter ego before. He knows exactly what this is.

He grips Benjamin by the wrist, tugging him damn near chest-to-chest.

“Attaboy,” he breathes directly into Ben’s ear.  The way he squirms sends a delicious shiver right to his cock.  “If you must know… I do it every… single… day.”

He can hear Ben gulp in response.  He feels the heat of the bug’s body, feels how rigid he is.  One overdramatic sniff of the air and he smirks down at the web-head.

“Smells like you’re cookin’ up my next pair, aren’t you?  Getting ‘em good and wet for me…”  His lips spread into the most devious smile possible, parting only to lick a stripe over Benjamin’s cheekbone.  He doesn’t know what he loves more: the fact he doesn’t resist, or that Ben fucking reached out to grip his arm when he did it.  That he needed to steady himself was a delicious thought.

John watches from behind his own eyes, mystified, but also saddened. It should be him in control, it should be him teasing his Benjamin like this.

“Answer me, bug boy.”

“I–” Ben starts, but his voice breaks from nervousness.

“I knew it.”  Homelander teases, leaning in close to murmur in his ear.  “Y’know, I’d love a fresh taste… And you’d love to give it to me, wouldn’t you?”

Ben gulps audibly, squeezing tighter around Homelander’s arm which, of course, makes that smile grow all the more devilish.

“Tell me right now you don’t want to lay back and let me eat your pussy until all you can possibly do is scream my name.”  He murmurs, a hand coming up and tugging Ben’s head back to reveal his neck.  Homelander peppers a kiss or two before scraping his teeth along the side he’s always imagined would be most sensitive.

His satisfaction at Benjamin’s weak gasp is unmeasurable.  His cock twitches and he presses it against the bug’s hip. He could take this boy apart so easily…

“Imagine it… my tongue running between your pretty little pussy lips.  You, writhing and moaning like a little whore for me.  Creaming around my fingers because you just can’t help yourself…”  Homelander chuckles darkly, rubbing his cock against Ben more brazenly now.  “You taste sooo sweet on your clothes. C’mon, Benny… Give us a taste.”

He reaches down to grab himself and tucks his cock between Ben’s thighs.  With slow, calculated thrusts, Homelander mimes the act of fucking him.

“When I’m done, I’ll give you what you want.”

The panting breaths from the wall-crawler are so enticing he can hardly help himself when he swallows those soft little noises with a kiss, tongue delving between Ben’s lips without hesitation.  “You want this…” He purrs between unreciprocated kisses.  “You want me.”

“I–” Ben starts, pausing when a finger hooks under the waistband of his pants.  

“Mm, say it.”  Homelander orders in a whisper.  He starts to snake his hand inside.  “Say how much you want me, how badly you want me to taste you– fuck you…”

Benjamin goes to speak once more, but sucks a sharp breath instead when a finger swipes between his soaked folds.  It drags back and forth, pressing against his hole, dipping inside just the slightest bit before trailing to his clit.

“Drenched,”  Homelander all but moans.  “Fucking knew you would be…”  He draws his hand free and brings it to his lips, tracing slick over them before slipping inside.  “Delicious… I knew you fucking wanted me.”

“Johnny…” Ben murmurs.  

Homelander practically doesn’t even hear it.

“I want Johnny.” He repeats, this time a little more brave despite how much anxiety dances in his words. This was volatility personified. 

Homelander looks at him with a flicker of ire, as though he’s ready to discipline him.  Throw him over his knee for a good spanking, fuck him senseless– something or the other.  Whichever one scratches the itch and accomplishes the task all at once.

“And why the fuck would you want him instead of me?”  He asks, bitterness lacing his words.  He spins them and traps Benjamin against the bed.

This is how it went last time.  Though last time was incredibly different, significantly more violent, and a lot less sexually charged, Benjamin needed only to ask and, somehow, John would find himself with enough strength to come back to the surface.  He can practically feel the resistance brewing.

Let me out.

Absolutely not.

Let me the fuck out!

��I want Johnny.” Ben repeats again, firm with every word.  In all fairness, Ben would absolutely have a round with this version of Homelander.  Just… not right now.  Not before John.  A snarl precedes that hand diving back into his pants, fingers delving deep into his cunt.  Benjamin can hardly stop the gasping moan that comes out.  It’s hard to resist it, hard to pretend he doesn’t actually want this.

But this isn’t who he wants it with.  Johnny would come first, always.

“Sing for me, little birdie.” Homelander commands, fucking his digits in and out, fingers curled perfectly.  His face twists as if he’s struggling to keep control. “You’re soaked for me. You’re like this because of me!  Not him!”

Ben’s whines are music to his ears even as he fights to keep from losing his hold.

I’m in control here!  Me!  You let me out right fucking now! He wants me!

Suddenly Homelander is shaking his head violently, expression pinched, teeth bared and grinding– and then he’s not.  His fingers still, his expression softens, eyes widen like a deer in headlights.

Still knuckle deep, Homelander freezes.

“Johnny..?”  Ben asks, though he’s already confident the switch had happened.  Despite the intrusion between his legs, the moment is significantly less tense than with the previous presence.  “I–”

“You want… me?”  

His voice is nearly a whisper, a touch of timidness in his tone.

“Yeah,” Ben nods, eyes shutting.  He leans in to press their foreheads together.  “I didn’t think it’d happen like this, y’know, but… yeah.”

Homelander lurches forward in an embarrassingly desperate manner, taking Ben in a kiss that he certainly didn’t mean to moan into.  Just like he doesn’t mean to melt when he feels reciprocation, he just does.

He can hardly wrap his mind around any of it. Ben’s lips, so soft and sweet against his.  The sweet boy’s cunt fluttering all hot and wet around his middle and ring fingers.  He could come undone just from what he’d been dropped into.  He sighs and starts moving his fingers, slow at first, soft.  

Just enough to milk the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard from his Benjamin.  It’s enough to make him whine and press his stiff cock right against Ben’s thigh– but only for a moment.  Long enough for his desperation and revived confidence to grow into a hunger unlike anything he’s ever known.  Suddenly he’s lifting Ben to lay flat on the bed, legs hanging off the edge, and he’s got the bug’s pants torn free and–

The first lick to his core isn’t even full contact.  He suckles the wet spot of Ben’s underwear, lips wrapped tight to get every last bit.  He mewls for it, face pressing between his little spider’s thighs to tease that first truly fresh taste of his greatest longing– like he means to drown in it.  The hands in his hair satisfy every dream he’s ever had of such a moment, tugging and gripping like Benjamin would die if he didn’t.

“Oh god…” The bug whimpers, hips bucking.  It’s all the motivation Homelander needs to deny himself just long enough to yank those boxer briefs away and reveal his meal.  He dives in completely undignified, moans muffling as he presses the whole of his open mouth to Ben’s cunt, tongue delving as deep into his hole as physically possible.  He’d trade his powers for a longer tongue right fucking now if it meant he could reach further inside– if he could collect more of that sweet nectar on his tongue and feed the starving beast inside of him that demanded so much more.

He suckles and flicks Ben’s clit, practically hypnotized at his size and thickness.  It’s so easy to get it into his mouth– so easy to suck and hold and–

The bed creaks with a particularly sharp unconscious thrust of his hips at the realization.  It’s like having a cock in his mouth.

He keeps Ben’s legs spread high and wide.  The quakes of them in his iron grip shoot straight to his ego and cock, making his eyes roll and heat all at once.

“Johnny– Oh, fuck, fuck, please–”

That’s right!  Say it!  Say my fucking name!

As if reading his mind, Benjamin does.  He howls and shivers and shakes through an orgasm that leaves him gushing slick against Homelander’s eager tongue. Homelander’s head is pressed down hard by the hands in his hair– silent pleas for more and more.

He’s so thrilled with himself that he couldn’t possibly prevent the moan that reverberates against Benjamin’s throbbing clit.  It practically jerks in his mouth.

“Oh god!”

I am your god.

And he just can’t bring himself to stop.  Can’t help but act out every single scenario he’s ever dreamed up while pressing stolen clothing to his nose and fucking his hand.  It’s going to pale in comparison when he finally slips into Ben’s cunt– he fucking knows it.  He’ll never be able to go back to something so dull when he’s tasted heaven and touched the stars.

He’s damn near ready to dive in for more when the hands in his hair yank good and hard, pulling him up.  He’s still clothed except for his cock free between his zipper, now harder than he's ever been in his life.  He has half a mind to just shove it in and fuck Ben before the boy could strip him down, but that option is long gone when a kiss distracts him long enough for zippers and clasps to get undone.

Pussy. 

Shut the fuck up! 

He neglects his alter ego’s taunts in favor of reveling in touches to his bare chest.  It’s enough to leave goosebumps and make him shiver.  He hardly knows what to do when Ben strips him the rest of the way, much less when a hand finally wraps around his cock.  The gasp that left him was less than pathetic, but it doesn’t deter the touches and soft kisses pressed to his neck.

“You’re amazing,” Ben murmurs against his flesh, breath fanning wet spots and making him twitch like some sort of virgin.  His eyes flutter open and catch a smile so genuine it melts his heart.  Each stroke along his length makes his chest heave with deep, unsteady breaths– every swipe of Ben's thumb to his soaked tip drives him near insanity.   He’s so pent up, even after getting off earlier.  He could blow at any second– god, what if it’s disappointing?  What if he ruins it because he’s too fucking weak to hold back?  

He’s thought of this so many fucking times that he practically has no control whatsoever.  But he never thought it’d feel so– 

So–

Something overtakes him, desperate beyond measure, utterly starved, and he rolls them.  Much as he’d love to drag it out, he’s on the brink and he’s not going to come until–

“O-ooh fffuuuck!” 

No sooner than his tip breeches Benjamin’s cunt is he blowing his load and–

Pathetic.

“Mm– oh, fuck– I’m sorry–”

At least I’d have actually gotten to fuck him.

“Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–” 

One pump chump, huh? 

He buries his face against Ben's neck to hide as pleasure and shame mix like oil and water in his gut. His body is locked tight, hips jerking despite having slipped out in the midst of an exceptionally pathetic, desperate thrust. 

You ruin everything you touch. 

It’s only when he’s nudged out of his hiding spot that he realizes he’s still whispering apologies.

“Hey, what’s– are you okay?”  Ben asks, concern replacing the bliss once etched so beautifully on his face.

Your fault. 

“I…” Homelander starts, shaking his head when the words get stuck in his throat.  “I didn’t mean to… finish so early…”

Ben’s hands cup his cheeks and cradle him, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks.  “I don’t mind.”  He says.  “We can stop if you’re–”

“No!” He interrupts.  “No, we– I can be ready again, I just–”

His face is burning red; he knows it.

“Shh, Johnny.  Don’t stress.  Just…”  Ben pulls him down into a kiss, soft and slow.  “Just kiss me for a bit, okay?”

Despite his racing heart and his mental roommate jabbing at his pride, he goes along.  It starts easy, simple pecks and gentle glides of lips.  A pace perfect to diminish his anxiety, an act sweet enough to dispel the shame.  Simple touches meant to soothe, others meant to ground.

He pulls back and looks at Benjamin for a moment, appreciating his kiss-swollen lips and hazy eyes before going right back in with more fervor.  Legs wrap around his waist and pull him into a grinding motion, milking a breathy moan directly into the kiss.

“That’s it…” Ben purrs between kisses.  

His tongue joins the fray, eyes rolling back as the taste and sensations hit his mind all at once.

He’s hard again in no time, especially with those little words of praise in between.  He stills when a hand slips between their bodies and grasps his cock, directing his tip to swipe between come-slicked folds still drenched for him.

Benjamin lines him up perfectly and he sinks in without thought.  A strangled moan catches in his throat as he’s practically sucked in by that tight heat.  Ben’s noises drive him insane– little gasps and whines as he adjusts, comments about how thick he is and oh– 

His arms wrap under Ben’s back to pull him impossibly closer.  He starts slow, steady and gentle just like Ben had been with him.  

Good.  Now ruin him.

He fights to keep his controlled pace, fights to be a perfect gentleman and not shatter this sweet boy.

“Johnny~”

And it’s so fucking hard not to.

His face is buried in Benjamin’s neck again and he picks up the pace, settling into a sloppy rut like an animal in heat– but god that’s exactly what he is.  Desperate and instinctive, he drives himself into Ben over and over again, chasing that high, knowing each deep stroke is what pulls those sweet little whimpers from his precious Benjamin and by god he’ll do it again and again–

“Harder!”  Gasps his little spider, and he’s all too happy to oblige.  His back arches, arms brace, and he cuts loose. His mind snaps– all there is anymore is this.  A lifetime of them and nothing else.  It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

Breathy exclamations turn to noisy moans, all of them sung into the air for him in tandem with squelches and wet slaps of skin.

Hear how he sings for you?  That’s it, keep going.  Hand under his lower back– good.  Help him arch into it.  Attaboy.

Homelander nods in the crook of Ben’s neck, tongue falling free to lick a stripe into which he fully intends to leave his mark.

Feel how he quakes under you?  Bite him.  Claim him.

His teeth sink in, just enough not to break the skin but he will mark this sweet boy as his.

He’s yours now, tiger.

“G-Gonna come! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”  Ben exclaims under him, nails biting into Homelander’s back as he holds on for dear life.  “Oh god– oh fuck!”

Make sure he never wants anyone else.  Thumb on his clit, right now– rub hard.

Homelander does exactly that and with only one flick, he sends Benjamin mewling into an orgasm so strong his entire body convulses– perfectly milking another load from his cock.

They cling to each other for dear life, both hurtling through climaxes so intense they can do nothing more than gasp and whine and pray the other won’t let go.

It takes a few minutes for either to speak, but fingers run through Homelander’s hair and a hand smooths up and down his back until they do.  Comforting, caring– 

“Do you wanna stay?”

Not the question he was expecting. Not at all– and not something he’s ever been asked before by anyone.  He hates knowing his eyes are watering when he looks up, but they do and he can’t make them stop.  “D’you want me to?”  

Stupid.  Stupid voice crack, stupid– 

Shut up and listen.

“Duh,” Ben says, hands coming up to pinch at his cheeks.  “I always want you to stay.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

This isn’t what he was expecting at all.

“Why would I be?”  Ben asks.

He’s about to explain the obvious, but–

“I mean I wish we could’ve skipped the whole fiending-for-my-underwear thing and gotten straight into this, but I’m not mad.  And I’m not mad about your brain bestie making an appearance either.” Ben smooths a hand through Homelander’s hair, scritching softly at the base of his neck.  “It’s all good.”

I've got dibs on the next time. 

“Mm, thank god.” John yawns.  It’s all he knows to say, except– “So are we uh… a thing now?”

You sound like a fucking teenager.

What, you have a better idea of how to ask him?

“D’you wanna be?” Ben asks, a beaming smile spreading across his face.  It must be contagious, because Homelander ends up with the same look.

“Yeah…” He breaths, chewing his lower lip to keep from looking any more dopey than he already does.  “Yeah, let’s– I want that.”

“Good,” Ben says, hooking a leg around him.  “So, uh… Boyfriend perks include unlimited underwear access.”  His cheeks tinge a deep red as he says it, but that just makes Homelander’s lips curl into a devious smirk.  “Among other things, y’know?”

“I can’t wait to find out,” John says.  All this time as just friends has been nothing short of  euphoric… 

Whatever is next for them must be bliss itself.

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞 (6)

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

Aemond first saw his mother's angry eyes before his gaze moved on to Lord Corlys, who only signaled him with his head to sit down. 

Aemond took the free chair next to Alys, who looked at him in surprise. She reached for his hand, but he was quicker and avoided her touch. He couldn't even stand the sight of her, how could he stand her touch. He saw her eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, but all he felt was disgust. She had never meant anything to him, for him only the physical thing had mattered, but now he didn't even want that from her.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, for appearing so quickly," Corlys thanked him, and Mrs. Rivers nodded.

"What happened? Your secretary said it was urgent, but she wouldn't tell us exactly what it was about over the phone."

Corlys clasped her hands together. "We have a serious issue to discuss." He looked to Aemond.

 "Our school has a zero tolerance policy toward bullying, and yet it has come to my attention that one of our students, within the walls, under my supervision, has had this very thing happen to her."

Aemond heard Alys inhale sharply. He looked forward to the next few minutes. He had no idea why he was here, but perhaps the gods just wanted him to witness their demise.

"Aemond was only protecting his sister," she said suddenly, placing her hand on his knee. He turned to her, looking at her stunned, while Alys misinterpreted his facial expression and felt confirmed in her mission to spread more lies. "Helaena has been bullied by Lucerya Velaryon for weeks and he has only defended her. You can't punish him for doing the right thing."

Lord Corlys raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Miss Rivers, what do you think is the reason you're here?"

Alys looked at him in surprise. "As a witness?" She looked to Aemond as he removed her hand from his knee.

Alicent snorted snidely. "Unbelievable," she spat with hatred, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "The acting talent of your students is truly remarkable, Corlys. It seems to me they put more emphasis on drama lessons here than the safety of your students."

"Excuse me?" interjected Mrs. Rivers indignantly, straightening up. "Alicent, you-"

"That's Mrs. Targaryen to you, Mrs. Rivers," his mother retorted hostilely. "Your daughter has been bullying my daughter for weeks. I don't know what went wrong in your upbringing, but in my family we don't bully weaker ones."

"Aemond, please. Don't leave me here alone... Aemond."

Aemond closed his eye for a brief moment as Lucy Velaryon's face appeared in his mind, tearful and distraught. He clenched his hand into a fist, disgusted with himself.

"Bullying?," Mrs. Rivers almost shrieked, looking to her daughter, who stared at the floor, stunned. "You're bullying others?" Alys shook her head, but her silence was answer enough. She didn't even bother to lie. The first tears appeared in her eyes.

"Alys, I'm sure you know the school rules, even if you don't seem to understand the moral rules of our society. Your behavior has consequences, and I want you to understand that you have caused great harm to Helaena. I have therefore decided to suspend you for two months."

Alys looked up in panic. "But in two and a half months are the mid-year exams. They're crucial for our college applications. You can't suspend me, I need the classes."

Alicent made a deprecating sound. "You probably should have thought about that before. You didn't care if my daughter could prepare for the exams either. I would have loved to have had you kicked out of school."

Corly's look was clear and his mother reluctantly remained silent.

"Your punishment was lessened just by the fact that Helaena asked me to give you a second chance. However, I can't let you go without a punishment, which is why I think the suspension is more than appropriate."

Alys was trembling and suddenly pale. Aemond heard her swallow. She looked to Aemond, but when she met his hateful gaze, she flinched and slumped in her chair like a heap of misery. She suddenly seemed so small, so pathetic. Just like her character.

"We apologize for our daughter's behavior," Mr. Rivers said, giving his daughter a reproving look. "Should it be true," he added quickly. "But at the moment, it is testimony against testimony. Is there a witness to such allegations?"

"Indeed, there is a witness," Corlys said, presenting documents to him. "Lucerya Velaryon unfortunately cannot attend this meeting, but she described an incident to me in a private conversation. As a result, I had Aly's friends come to me and they all confirmed that the accusations were legitimate. Here are their testimonies."

At the mention of Lucy, Aemond had to gulp. Corlys was definitely referring to the incident where Alys had turned him against his niece, even though she had been the one making her life hell. He looked at Alys' devastated face. She didn't know yet that this suspension was the best thing that could happen to her. As soon as she came back, she would beg him to show mercy. He would destroy her.

"Then, of course, we accept the punishment," Mrs. Rivers replied dejectedly as she held the sheets in her hand. "We will take our daughter with us to Harrenhal today."

"That would be the best," Corlys confirmed.

Alys parents stood up and Alys wanted to follow them before Aemond grabbed her and pulled her close to him. He pressed her petite body against his and pushed her head against him. With his mouth, he slid to her ear. "Pray I never meet you alone," Aemond threatened her softly. He felt her tense. "You are dead to me." Her whole body stiffened in his embrace. He had spoken as softly as he could so that no one but Alys understood him. He released their embrace and pushed her away from him. Alys looked at him fearfully before quickly turning around to put as much distance between them as quickly as she could.

When the Rivers were gone, his mother addressed Lord Corlys one last time.

"I hope we never have to repeat such a conversation again, Corlys," she spoke icily, not hiding her lack of sympathy for the man. Corlys nodded with a smile, it seemed forced, but he preferred to remain silent. A clever man, Aemond thought. His mother seemed to have expected nothing less.

"Come, Aemond," she commanded, and Aemond followed her instruction, but a clearing of the throat held them both back.

"I would like to speak with Aemond in private, Alicent."

His mother looked at Corlys Velaryon with a raised eyebrow.

"What for?"

"I would prefer to discuss this with him alone."

"Do you have to?"

"I'm afraid so."

Alicent looked at him critically before her gaze wandered to Aemond, who only raised his shoulders. No idea what else the old man wanted from him.

"I'm with Helaena, she wants to go back to school here," she began, addressing Aemond. "Come to us after your talk."

Aemond nodded and watched his mother storm out of the office without saying goodbye to Corlys. Neither had ever tried to hide the fact that they disliked each other.

Corlys signaled for him to sit down.

"Miss Rivers said something interesting earlier," Corlys began. "Basically, she confirmed a suspicion I've had for a long time, and which has been brought to my attention several times now by various students. The only one who has been consistently silent on the subject is my granddaughter."

Aemond had a small premonition of what was about to come. Corlys walked around his desk. He stopped in front of Aemond and sat down with one leg on the desk. He looked down at him, and Aemond realized what he was doing to him.

He was making him feel small.

"I want to be frank with you, Aemond. I'm afraid you wouldn't understand otherwise. If it ever comes to my attention again that you are bullying Lucy in any way, I will expel you from this school. And then not even your father can save you, understand?"

Neither of them averted their eyes. It was a struggle of power, though it was clear who had the higher leverage.

"Understood."

Corlys smiled. "Very good. I'm glad to hear that. You can go now."

. . . . .

Baela stared at her cousin, who had been lying in her bed for two days, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. She had left Lucy alone, sensing that something had happened, but she hadn't spoken a word since returning to the bedchamber in the middle of the night two days ago. She had looked like a ghost, mascara spread over her face and eyes teary and puffy.

The only time she had spoken was when Alicent, Aemond's mother, and Lord Corlys had joined her in the room after Lucy had called in sick. Baela had tried to eavesdrop, but she had only understood bits and pieces. Too little to make sense of it all, but she was smart enough to understand that it must have something to do with Aemond. Even though Lucy didn't say a word, Aemond's sudden announcement to leave Lucy alone again from now on was almost proof enough.

But that was not enough. She did not want Aemond to get away without consequences. Rhaena had tried to talk to Lucy, to convince her to go to Lord Corlys, but she had not succeeded, so her twin sister had gone to her grandfather herself. But even that was not enough for Baela. She looked to Jacaerys, who was standing at the pool table with his friends, laughing as if all was well with the world. Well, it was for him. He was a grade above them, and the bullying against his sister had apparently passed him by completely. Even though the whole school was involved, the upper years had just watched while the younger ones did what they always did. Obey Aemond Targaryen. The only ones who could say anything against Aemond were his brother Aegon and Jacaerys.

"Jacaerys," Baela said when she arrived at the pool table. The boys looked at her in surprise, as if they had completely tuned out the world around them.

"Baela," Jacaerys replied in surprise, smiling. "Do you feel like playing along? The boys might-"

"We need to talk."

Jacaerys's smile vanished at the seriousness of her voice. His eyes roamed her face inquiringly, and he understood. Baela gave his friends a look that made it clear this conversation was not for their ears. They looked to Jacaerys, who nodded at them promptly.

When the boys were gone, Jacaerys turned to her.

"What's this about?"

. . . . .

Jacaery's fist crashed into Aemond's cheekbone without warning. Aemond stumbled back from the blow, but still managed to stay on his feet. The crowd around them filled up and suddenly they were surrounded by several classmates who were watching them in a curious manner.

Aemond looked angrily at Jacaerys and wiped his lip. Blood was visible on the back of his hand.

"You'd better not do that again," Aemond warned, and everyone stared at Jace, who only made a snide noise.

"This is for Lucy. I heard what you did," Jacaerys approached. "Turn your classmates against her? You're lucky I'm letting you live."

He saw something flit across Aemond's face. A realization, guilt, and something else, but he didn't particularly care. That bastard had hurt, humiliated and bullied his little sister and he had been too absorbed in his own world that he hadn't noticed how Lucy was suffering. But that was the end of it now. He would protect her from now on. Of course he never missed an opportunity to tease her, but this was different. He would never want to hurt her seriously, but Aemond had always had it in for Lucy. He felt sick when he thought about what Baela had told him.

"Jace," Baela called out warningly, but by then it had happened. Aemond shoved Jacaerys so hard that he stumbled backward and flew over his own feet. He landed on the ground with a loud thud, and Aemond snorted disparagingly at the ease with which he had brought his nephew down.

"You asshole," Baela yelled, but was held back by Aegon. Baela swung at him, but as usual, Aegon made fun of such things.

Humiliated, Jacaerys jumped up to face his uncle. He lunged, but Aemond intercepted his blow and held his wrist tightly. With his other arm he lunged wide, his hand clenched into his fist, and for a brief moment Jacaerys remembered back to when Lucy had slid the kitchen knife across his face. It had been a harmless argument that had escalated, stopped only when Lucy had taken her uncle's eye. He would never forget Aemond's screams. Just as he would never forget Lucy's stunned, frightened look as she looked pleadingly to Jacaerys, hoping to undo what she had done.

Aemond's fist raced toward his face, he braced himself for the pain, but then suddenly brown hair appeared before his eyes. He knew immediately who had placed himself in front of him. Aemond's fist stopped just before her face and he saw the bewilderment on his face.

"Are you crazy?" asked Aemond, addressing Lucy.

"What are you doing, Lucy? Get out of here," hissed Jacaerys, but Lucy ignored him.

"Listen to your brother," Aemond said low, his fist still in the air. Jacaerys grabbed Lucy by the shoulder, but she tore away from him. She stepped closer to Aemond, standing inches away from him.

"I'm right here, Uncle," Lucy dared him. Her voice was strong, no weakness in it. "The object of your ire, the reason you lost your eye. If you wish to get your revenge, you have to get rid of me. So do it. And be done of all this bother."

Aemond stared at Lucy. For a moment, the world stood still. All eyes were on the two of them. No one saying a word. Lucy stood there, like a warrior, they say, not backing down an inch. Jacaerys was impressed with his sister at that moment.

He had come to save her, to defend her but now she was standing there to save him.

Aemond was silent. He didn't say a word, the only thing he did was stare at Lucy. Then he snorted and turned around. The crowd parted to make way, from the king of the school who had just been put in his place by a woman.

"That was dangerous, Lucy, are you insane?"

But no response. His sister ignored him and stared after Aemond. Even when he was long gone from sight.

. . . . .

"Exercise improves blood flow to the muscle, reduces the likelihood of hardening of the arteries and thus the risk of a heart attack later in life. In addition, blood pressure, blood sugar and blood fat levels are regulated. But that's not all: exercise also strengthens muscles, tendons, bones, joints and ligaments."

At the word sport, Lucy had already switched off in her mind. Neither did she do sports, nor did she want to hear about them. Vaemond Velaryon, her gym teacher, didn't like her anyway, and pretending to be excited about his classes would be as much of a waste of time as pretending it could. There was probably no one more unathletic than she was.

"People who exercise in the fresh air are more balanced and happier. Just 5 minutes of sporting activity in the fresh air is enough to significantly improve your mood. That's because people who exercise outdoors in nature produce more of the body's hormones, such as dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine."

Could someone stop this torture? Lucy looked at her cousin Baela, who rolled her eyes in annoyance. Rhaena, on the other hand, looked at her great-uncle with shining eyes, as if he were the Messiah. She was sure that Aunt Laena had dropped her from the changing table when she was a child.

"And so now I want you to run five laps around this forest," Vaemond explained, and a groan went through the row of students. This man had invented torture. Five laps ? Healthful, my ass. It was like a funeral. Where was the mass grave ?

She looked at Jacaerys, who, as always, was happy about any sporting activity. Lucy pursed her mouth. Her brother was embarrassing. A disgrace to this family. Due to lack of teachers, they assigned her year and Jacaerys' together in sports.

"You are allowed three breaks, five minutes each. The breaks are taken when you have finished one round each. Anyone who does more you will be disqualified."

She hoped he would be disqualified as a teacher. Only 5 minutes break at a time? She would gasp after the first minute. Could someone take this maniac back to the psych ward? The man was born for torture.

"I just hope I don't break a fingernail," she heard Alys' friend say behind her, and she just rolled her eyes. Since Alys had been suspended from school, they'd been running around like helpless sheep, looking for someone to fill the spot Alys had left behind.

Lucy had to admit that she had felt schadenfreude when Baela had told her that Alys would be absent from school for two months. She would have liked to see her go for good, but Alys' uncle Larys Strong was a close friend of Alicent. She was sure he had his fingers in the pie. Lucy wondered if he would do the same for her. Harwin was her father, there was no doubt about that, Larys' older brother, but she had never been able to form a familial bond with him.

"She's even dumber than she looks," Rhaena whispered, and Lucy grinned. Alys and her friends had a lot in common. Their dopiness was one of them.

"Are you really okay?" asked Rhaena suddenly, and Lucy looked at her in surprise. "You didn't get out of bed for days and all of a sudden you're back and it's like nothing happened." She reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. Rhaena had always been the more empathetic of the two twins. While Baela was tough and rebellious, Rhaena was gentle and quiet in nature.

"I feel better," Lucy lied, forcing a smile. What Aemond had done to her had taken a toll on her and she still had nightmares about it in parts, but she wasn't one to give up on herself. Her classmates left her alone and Lucy hoped that was the end of her argument with Aemond.

She looked to her uncle, who stood annoyed in the corner, Aegon beside him, banging his head wearily against the wall behind him. Lucy had to grin at the sight. Aegon was doing what they all wanted to do. Then suddenly Aemond turned his head in her direction and the smile froze on Lucy's face. It was as if he was looking deep into her soul when their eyes met. He was watching her, and Lucy could do nothing but avoid his engaging gaze. Goosebumps ran over her body. Since the incident, her relationship with Aemond was different. She felt more fear in his presence. More reticence. The urge to just crawl into a hole and not come out. He had proven to her that he was the more powerful of the two of them and that she stood no chance against him. She didn't want his attention. She didn't want anything from him.

"Really?" asked Rhaena as she turned her gaze to. Lucy forced herself to smile again and just nodded. Then she followed her classmates and prepared to die of respiratory distress. She would not survive this torture Vaemond Velaryon had devised (the man was evil to the core).

Vaemond whistled into his whistle and the students began to jog, groaning.

"Jogging, not stumble, Lucy," Vaemond shouted, and she wished him the worst diarrhea of his life.

As she jogged. And cursed every moment she chose to rejoin the class. Apparently she wasn't the brightest candle on the cake, otherwise it would have occurred to her to skip gym class.

It was relatively cold outside and it was the last class of the day. Most of them passed Lucy and Jacaerys gave her a deprecating look as he passed her for the second time. Maybe she should tell the story of how he had peed himself after his first horror movie after all.

It did not take long until Lucy was the last. Even Aegon was faster and he did nothing but drink, eat and smoke. She was definitely disgracing her mother, but if she remembered correctly, she had never asked to participate in gym class. A burden that had been imposed on her. Who wanted to volunteer for gym?

Lucy stopped, panting for breath, when she got the first side stitch. She gasped for air like a fish at the surface and looked around. There was no one to be seen far and wide. Rhine theoritically, then no one would notice if she took a shortcut, would they? Lucy looked back again and judged her plan to be good enough to implement. She walked to the edge of the path. She would only have to climb a short distance and then run straight out. In an inconspicuous minute she would blend in with the people.

She grabbed a branch and tried to get a secure foothold with her foot. Below her was a mud pit, a giant big puddle from which there was no escape. She would have to be careful. She gripped the branch tighter. It was a bit tiring but it would work. She tried to grab the second branch. She would just have to-

"Whatever you're trying, it won't work," a voice suddenly said behind her, and Lucy turned around, startled. Aemond stood behind her with his arms folded in front of his chest, watching her with one eyebrow raised. Lucy's hand reached out into space and before she could react, the lack of footing caused her to fall and land with a loud splash in the biggest mud puddle the gods could think up. The mud splashed everywhere and the word mud bath took on a new meaning. She was completely wet from top to bottom.

She looked up, stunned, at Aemond, who was looking at her innocently.

"That's unfortunate."

Regrettable would only be his death if she put her hands around his neck.

"Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault."

"Of course it's your fault. You were distracting me. I had everything under control."

"It didn't look that way."

"Well, it was."

"If you say so."

"Oh just fuck off," Lucy yelled angrily and stood up. The mud was slippery and when she grabbed a tree root, she slipped again and flew back into the mud.

"Sure you don't need help?" asked Aemond innocently.

"Most definitely I don't need your help. Get someone who wouldn't let me die here."

"Hmmm, don't feel like it."

Lucy looked at him, stunned. "Excuse me?"

"No desire. I'm exhausted. Jogging is exhausting."

"You're not even sweating yet."

"Maybe so, but my legs hurt. I'm tired. Just call for help, or..." he stopped and knelt down. He looked down at her with a smile. "Or just ask me for help."

Aemond grinned smugly. He was actually serious. Lucy snorted.

"No way."

"It's just a short little sentence, little Lucy. Aemond, please help me. Give it a try. It does wonders."

"I'd rather drown in here."

Aemond's grin disappeared. He braced his hands on his knees and jumped up.

"Well, have fun. I'll run back now, maybe you'll get lucky and someone will find you by sundown."

Aemond turned and Lucy's eyes widened in shock as he disappeared from her sight. He was really going to leave and leave her here? She shrieked. "Aemond, please stay here," she screamed in panic. "Please help me." How humiliating.

For a moment she thought Aemond had really left her behind, wouldn't respond to her cries for help, before he suddenly reappeared, knelt down and held out his arm.

"There you go," he said smugly, pointing to his arm. "Go on, take my hand."

Lucy looked at him, exhausted, and rolled her eyes. She pushed through the mud and reached for Aemond's hand. The grip was slippery from the mud, and when Aemond tried to pull her up, she slipped and flew back into the mud.

"Fuck," she screamed.

"You need to hold on tighter."

"I did, your hand is slippery."

"I think it's more like your hand is slippery."

They tried again and this time Aemond applied more force. He had almost pulled her up when Lucy slipped again with her leg on the mud. But this time she had gripped his hand too tightly that she didn't let go and instead of just falling back into the mud herself, she pulled Aemond with her. The mud splattered everywhere, turning Aemond's light blond hair a dark brown.

He looked at her, aghast, and Lucy had to laugh. "Sorry," she said, raising her hands apologetically.

"Great job, Lucy," he spat. "Now we're both stuck here."

"Well, what can I do about it? You told me to hold on tighter.

"But if you fall, you're supposed to let go of me."

"You might want to say that before next time."

"Sure, I will when I pull the next one out of the mud. Thanks for the tip, niece."

Lucy couldn't tell at the moment how badly she wanted to punch him.

"Help!," she yelled, but other than her voice echoing through the forest and branches cracking, there was no response. They were trapped here.

Aemond looked for a way to escape from the mud pit, but no matter what he did, he kept slipping.

"Come here," he said suddenly, reaching for Lucy, who flinched in fright. If he was going to kill her now, she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Don't ever touch me again, I'm a white belt in Taekwondo and I'm not afraid to use my learned skills on you."

"Isn't that the belt for beginners?"

Lucy looked at him in irritation. She didn't think he knew that. "Yes, but I was a very advanced beginner."

He said no more and just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Save your irony!"

"I didn't say anything."

"The look on your face says it all."

"Now I'm not allowed to look?" His voice was full of irony. "I was just trying to lift you up so you could climb up, but as unathletic as you are, that's not going to happen."

"Aemond, just shut up okay?," screeched Lucy. This guy was driving her crazy. It was maddening. "Because of you, we're trapped here and probably going to starve and die."

Aemond was silent for a moment and Lucy hoped the gods had finally heard her.

"Starvation implies that we die."

"That's it, I'll spare you, no, I'll spare myself the pain and kill you."

"You're pretty aggressive."

"You must know."

"I actually do know."

He didn't say it but they both knew what he was talking about. And again it was about his eye. She preferred to remain silent. She signaled for him to lift her up, but that plan didn't work either. They were trapped here and had to hope that the others would quickly notice their absence. The mud was cold and the later it got the colder the air became. Lucy began to freeze and sat down on an excellent rock.

They were trapped here in a mud pit and only because she wanted to be smart enough to take a shortcut. They wouldn't drown here, but the cold would chill their bodies to the point that she was sure they would freeze to death by the next morning if no one rescued them.

Aemond sat across from her. He did not look at her, but Lucy could not take her eyes off him. He had tried to help her, and because of her, she was trapped here now. But no matter how much guilt she felt, she was glad she wasn't alone here. It was dark by now, and she had no idea what time it was. They hadn't spoken to each other the whole time. Lucy was shivering. She was incredibly cold and her eyes burned like fire. Her throat hurt, it was dry and scratchy.

She noticed herself slipping off the stone and at the last moment managed to keep herself from flying into the mud. Aemond looked to her.

"Are you all right?"

"Fantastic."

She was anything but Fantastic. All she wanted to do was get into her warm bed, with a hot water bottle, and never come out. It was so incredibly cold.

She didn't hear Aemond come up to her, but when he touched her, she flinched.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he tried to reassure her, putting his ice-cold hand to her forehead. Then on her cheek. His touch was gentle. She didn't know this gentleness from him. He was usually rough with her. "You're hot."

"Thank you."

"No, I mean you have a fever."

Lucy tried to keep her eyes open. "That's nice." She had no idea what Aemond was even talking about. She leaned next to him and his cool skin, despite the cold, gave her a soothing chill before she started to freeze again.

"Do you think anyone else is coming?"

"They'll probably be looking for us already. Be quiet, and get some rest." She felt him put an arm around her and press her against his chest. He warmed her with his body and gave her support so she wouldn't sink into the mud. Although she hated Aemond, she felt safe in his arms. At the moment there was nothing more beautiful for her than to sit there and feel protected by him. How ironic, considering that just a few days ago she had felt just the opposite. But she blamed it on her fever, which was tormenting her more with each passing second. She suddenly became too tired. She grew weak in his arms and she felt Aemond hugging her harder. A tingling sensation ran over her body.

"Aemond?"

He exhaled in annoyance.

"Can't you be quiet for once? I told you to shut up."

"Okay..."

It wasn't even a minute before she opened her mouth again.

"Aemond?"

She didn't see it, but she felt him roll his eye.

"Hmmm?"

"About your eye. I'm really sorry."

Taglist

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