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sh1-n0bu · 7 months ago

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♡︎ 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!scar x gn!dom!reader

warnings: dissected organ and blood mentions, fingering, dry humping, squirting, clit pinching, light masochism, overstimulation, bondage, degrading, possessive and obsessive behavior, scar giving off HEAVY yandere vibes, reader has lightning powers so inappropriate use of lightning powers

notes: in loving memory of scar's onigiri manko😔 dividers from cafekitsune. this is a repost since tumblr is being a bitch🙄

being constantly stalked from the shadows can cause a person to do all sorts of things, y'know?

it started out small.

gifts being left at the front of your doorsteps, flowers, bouquets, sweets and snacks even ranging to weapons or things you needed to make a new weapon being left in the same old gift box. red, with white satin tied up in a cute bowtie at the front. you thought it was a cute way for your little secret admirer to notify "hey, it's me again!" to you each time they leave a gift.

but then, it started to get... a bit odd.

the gifts that used to be left at your doorstep with a knock would now be sitting inside your home. on the couch, the kitchen counter, the bed when you sometimes walk into your bedroom or even on the bathroom counter. the same old red colored box with a white satin in its stupid bowtie. as much as you appreciated this gesture of your secret admirer leaving you all sorts of gifts and presents, it had started to become... creepy. the mere thought of this person stalking you, knowing where you live, constantly coming back over and over to leave a gift for you to now downright breaking into your home.

you notified a midnight ranger of course. who in their sane mind would allow this thing to keep happening, even if they do have powers to protect themselves?

two rangers came by your home. snapping a few photos of the evidence, checking the locks and windows, under the bed, in the attic, basement - almost any and every place someone could hide in and places someone could break in through - they found nothing. whoever this stalker of yours was, they were a good one at getting rid of their traces.

of course, still worried for a citizen, they asked you to stay at a relative or a friend's place for a few days as the two rangers stay behind to capture your stalker when they come back eventually. bad move. the exact next morning, a few more midnight rangers came knocking at your friend's door, asking for your presence. the moment you saw the rangers, you felt a churning feeling in your gut. and you were right to feel that because turns out your stalker had ended up murdering the two rangers who stayed behind, dissecting their hearts and sewing them into one to create the cartoonish heart shape.

all wrapped up in red box and white satin bowtie with blood on the ends. paired with a small note slipped under the bowtie.

"do you like my gifts, darling :)?"

this was getting out of hand. you need to find a way to confront your stalker by yourself and take matters into your own hands. or else, who knows how many more midnight rangers have to die until your stalker comes to you. hell, even your friend could be killed because you chose to stay in their home for the night.

you began with a list of suspects on a notebook. red and white and apparently strong and deranged enough to kill not one but two midnight rangers as if they were still in training. mortefi? no. the researcher was too busy and besides, he's a standing citizen. completely normal and able to keep himself in line without turning into a stalker, fanatic fan. danjin? sure, she was unusually strong for a resonator who had just awakened her tacet marks but she would never kill people over someone she simply adored. encore? now you're the one who is going crazy here, [name].

for a brief moment you thought of a certain someone who had his eyes on you for a little while and wasn't afraid to show his infatuation with you. scar, one of the overseers of the fractsidus organization. one insane bastard, strong enough to kill two rangers as if they meant nothing to him and not to mention, he had a history of stalking you before. the hunch wasn't far fetched but now, all that you needed to prove this theory of yours is to capture your stalker. and if your stalker really is indeed scar, then you needed to teach some sense into him.

carefully, setting up traps in your own bedroom, all the while continuing to act if everything was okay and you weren't feeling eyes digging holes into the back of your skull, you slipped under your covers. turning the lights off, making sure to not exactly clutch your hand to trigger the trap, you closed your eyes as your breathing slows and the windows to your living room slides open.

‘that certainly didn't take long...’ you thought to yourself, entertained by just easy it was to fool your stalker and how quickly they slipped inside your home. just a few minutes after you laid your head on the pillow too.

the sound of footsteps grow closer, light and quick like the pitter patter of raindrops against your window making their way up the stairs and towards your room. your stalker seem to hesitate, their shoes stopping just outside your door as if they were straining their ears to listen to your breathing. as if satisfied with your act of being asleep, the sound of the door to your room opening is heard. the gentle shuffling of clothes and light heel taps making their way into the room. you could hear the box in their hands. that cursed red box with its white satin tied into a bow.

their steps make their way to the side of your bed, on the nightstand beside it as they place down their box of gift with a quiet thud. holding your breath, slowing your breathing as much as possible, you listen on to your stalker. light breathing, a constant shuffling noise and the scent of… ash? that scent gave it away. the scent of ash, sulfur and a very old dried blood.

scar.

of course it was him. of fucking course it was that damned overseer of the fractsidus. an old enemy, a rival and certainly the very same bastard who had a history of stalking you before.

as much as you wanted to jump out of your bed and strangle the bastard by his throat at this very moment, you held yourself back. grinding your teeth slightly in annoyance and biding your time until a clawed finger pushes back a strand of your hair from your face. that was the perfect moment for you to take action, squeezing your hand as the sound if electrical strings is heard, binding scar in his place and hitting him with a high voltage. throwing the blanket off of yourself, you jump away towards the other side of the bed from where scar was. slow and cautious steps towards where a thud is heard, peeking over the edge of the bed, you see his unconscious body. tied up with electrical cords of your making and zapped unconscious.

“yes, it’s me again. that person who was being stalked and gave a call… yeah. i managed to capture my stalker and he’s currently in my bedroom right now. if you could send a few patrollers or midnight rangers, it would be—“

“aww… getting right of me so soon, darling?” scar speaks up, voice scratchy from the earlier stunt you pulled, shaking his head as he tries to clear away any lingering unconsciousness. he wasn’t sharp enough to notice the trap you laid out for him to step into nor was he strong enough to endure the zap of your electricity. not like he minded. he wanted all the time in the world with you and if being tied up and shocked did the trick, he would have it happen to him all the time. as long as it was you who was doing the shocking.

abruptly ending the call — but managing to get through the main point of your call — you turn towards your captive. that annoying scarred face and the lopsided smile that he always has on his face. how much you wanted to wring out his neck to get rid of that smile.

“you look way too happy for someone who got caught” you say, watching him for any sort of movement. nothing. he was just sitting there, kneeled in your floor like a well trained pet all the while keeping an eye on you with those mismatched, puppy eyes.

“what can i say? i slipped and i’m caught. but are these ropes and strings really necessary, darling? you have another plan for me?” he asks, wiggling his shoulders slightly as his smile grows at the furrow of your brows. yes, get angry, get agitated. he loved to see that expression on your face, that anger, that fire. how he wanted to stoke that little ember in your eyes until it turned into a blazing inferno like his own.

“why don’t you learn to shut up first?”

“why don’t you learn to zap me with just enough voltage to make me squirm?”

dear sentinels, this guy was really getting under your skin. he always did and he still does. that annoying smirk, the constant witty banter and the way he would push your buttons all the while whispering filth into your mind.

“bend me over the desk, darling”, “the couch looking painfully empty and clean”, “my zippers are unlocked, y’know?” all sorts of erotic words and suggestions flow from his lips every time he opens them, painting this image in your mind. of him bent over the counter, a quickie in the corner, hell, he even once suggested you to just tear off his jumpsuit and fuck him to your satisfaction in his domain. no one would see or hear you two, as he coos out, dodging your attacks as a red card burns in his hand.

pushing himself up, he trudges his way towards where you stood at the end of your bed, arms still tied behind his back as he leans in close to you. too close. you could smell the sulfur from him even more distinctly now.

“come on, darling. don’t act so cold with me. you and i have known each other for so long, it’s about time we take our relationship to the next level” he coos out, leaning in closer and closer while you lean away from him. until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, causing you to fall back onto the soft mattress while scar climbs on top of you. cheeky bastard was grinning so smugly, straddling your lap like it was his favorite seat in the world. maybe to him, it was.

“in your wet dreams. there’s no relationship between us except for the times we nearly kill each other. that’s it” you hiss, propping yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. the anger in your eyes and the way you easily disregarded him like he was nothing made scar shiver, his hips moving tantalizingly over your groin like he was trying to seduce you.

“oh darling! how did you know i have wet dreams about you? in fact, one of them was just like this! with you under me and having me all tied up♡︎“ scar coos out, his expression brightening like a puppy who just got his favorite treat. sneaky bastard, twisting your words and using them against you while getting what he was after. you were sure this is what he wanted the most. to allow this to happen, to let himself be under your mercy. it didn't surprise you at all.

though, you would be an idiot to say you didn’t recognize it. the signs of arousal that he emitted. the slight flush of his cheeks, the heavier breathing and the wetness coating his and your pants. bastard was getting turned on. but… so were you.

hesitantly, your hand reached for the zipper of his jumpsuit’s crotch, the area already wet with his slick. scar nearly whined at that, moving around on your lap as if trying to get you to unzip it quickly. getting the hint, you did as he wanted. the zipper opening up slowly, his dripping cunt coming on display for you.

“tsk tsk. so eager to get fucked you’re not gonna bother to wear underwear?” you ask, clicking your tongue as your thumb comes up to circle around his enlarged clit. scar nearly stumbles over, his knees buckling as he thrust his hips, trying to get your fingers inside himself already.

“why… would i need to wear one if i’m going to be visiting you, darling?” the pyromaniac groans when your thumb leave his clit, leaving him dripping and clenching around nothing. but his disappointment is short lived when you push a finger inside him, stretching him open and making him gasp out loud. just a single finger, buried to the second knuckle and he was already whining as he tries to ride your finger to the best of his abilities. if his hands were free, he would have placed them on your shoulders for balance as he bounces himself over your fingers.

alas, that was not the case and scar was forced to make do with his current predicament, grinding himself down onto your finger while you watch him unamused. when he tried to bounce on your finger, it slipped out thanks to the excessive slick coating your finger, making him whine at the loss while his cunt eagerly wait for your finger to be back inside him again.

“aanhg—! gyaah… mgghh♡︎♡︎ ohhh darling, you sure know how to please my cunt♡︎” a choked moan comes from him when you push two fingers inside his gummy walls, prodding and fucking him open. knuckles deep inside, you make a scissoring motion, making his knees feel weak as he sits down on your lap, letting you finger him as much as you wanted. he was thoroughly enjoying himself it seemed, as he grinds his hips back and forth, his soft cunt weeping more and more of his juices as they coat your hand.

“you… you really know how to please a cunt, don’t you, darling? all mmgh—! ah anngh ah ah ahh♡︎♡︎ all deep♡︎ and rough♡︎ f-feels like you’re trying to get me to squ-uuuhncckk♥︎♥︎!!” scar trails off, his cocky words dying in his throat, replaced by a shrill squeal when you zapped his cunt with a low electricity. opening his mouth, the pyromaniac tries to say something again only to get cut off by another high pitched scream when you decided to zap both his cunt and clit at the same time.

“like i said, you really should learn to shut your mouth, scar” you tease him, a pleased grin on your face as you take in the mess he had become on your lap. thin trail off drool on his chin, flushed red and hazy eyed. there were even tears forming in his mismatched eyes, looking like he was about to cry.

“m-make meeehnn♡︎♡︎ make me th-then, darling♥︎!“ scar manages to say, a whiny groan falling from his drool covered lips as your fingers pick up their pace, now easily fucking into his loosened hole. filthy lewd shlap! shlap! shlap! could be heard, the wet noises of his cunt mixing together with his punched out moans, turning into a blend of beautifully filthy noises.

��filthy whore who loves to walk around with his pussy out should learn to hold his tongue” you coo out, mocking him for his jumpsuit style as your fingers curl upwards, searching and finding that one spot that caused him to see stars in his eyes. a sharp gasp falling, his head thrown back as his legs shake like a weak lamb’s while your fingers continue to hit that one spot. pushing your knees up, you allow him to lean back on your knees, arms struggling against the strings and ropes while you continue to abuse that bundle of nerves inside his gummy walls.

“shh-shuttt awghhh unngh up!! shut up, dawrlinnggg—♥︎♥︎!!” scar trails off, a wet, punched out wail coming from him as your free hand pinches at his hardened clit. pinching at the bundle of nerves, your fingers squeeze around it simultaneously as the rough pads of your fingers hit his g-spot, making scar let out delirious noises of pleasure. he was far gone to hold a proper conversation with you and you could see that. the tears that were collecting in his mismatched eyes now falling in fat globs, red and grey eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his legs thrash around on the bed.

“dirty dirty boy, look at yourself. not only making trouble for me with your stalker tendencies but also getting my sheets and clothes dirty” you coo out, the fingers that were pinching at his clit tugging on them slightly. scar let out a loud scream at that, throwing his head back as his legs squeeze around your waist tightly as he comes undone on your fingers. but you weren’t planning to stop anytime to soon. you needed to teach him a lesson to stop bothering you while also letting out the pent up anger that he caused by deciding to be a prick.

“who gave you the permission to cum, you filthy whore” you bite out, the anger and annoyance seeping into your tone as your fingers stretch his cunt open, continuing to push against his sweet spot. scar started to sob, the pleasure being too much, nearly bordering on pain but his masochistic spirit wanted you to keep going and to never stop. he wanted both the pain and the pleasure. anything, anything you gave him, he would gladly take greedily.

“dar—! darling!! dawrlinnn’♡︎ ’m sorry... ’m sorry ’m soo showwryy♡︎♡︎♡︎ d-didn’t mean to be soo baawdd♥︎♥︎” scar sobs out, punched out, whiny moans and shrill squeals making it harder to understand what he was saying, but you managed to catch on. despite his words and his wet apologies, you knew he wouldn’t stop being a nuisance at your side. that was just how scar was. unreadable, maniacal and a pain in your ass. so even if he does walk away from your bedroom today with drunken apologies and trembling legs, you knew he would just come back again the next day, searching for more. especially now since he has gotten the taste of how good your fingers could fuck his dripping cunt open until he cries deliriously.

sobbing out apologies mingled with how your fingers were fucking his pretty pussy until it bruises, scar lets out a weak whine whenever you pinch at his clit harder than usual. the occasional violent jolts and squeals falling whenever you zap his gushing cunny, crying about how mean you were.

“mmghhh… go-gonna cum…! gonna cum again♡︎ aamgh eeck♥︎♥︎ g-gonna cum on your f-fingers againn..! d-darling! darlingdarlingdarlingdarl-iiinngh♥︎!!” babbling incoherently about his rapidly nearing release, scar’s head is thrown back, mouth slack open in a silent scream when you zap both his pussy walls and clit at the same time. legs trembling like a lamb’s, threatening to close if it weren’t for your body between them, his body jolts violently as his gushing cunt squirts out his cum, painting your entire hand and pants with his slick.

fingering him through his high, you withdraw your fingers only after he whines for a break, the mess that he created didn’t exactly bothering him as he leans in to steal a kiss from your lips. a dazed attitude, drunken look in his eyes as he shoots you a lopsided grin, scar leans in to whisper when he would be visiting again next time. and he specifically asked for more than just your fingers. the greedy bastard.

“i’ll see ya’ then, darling♡︎!” before you knew it, he pulled out one of his red cards from his back pocket, opening a portal for himself to escape through just as there comes knocks on your front door.

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soobinies · 2 months ago

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YEONJUN :: LO$ER=LO♡ER @ ACT : PROMISE ENCORE IN SEOUL DAY 1

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wolfchans · 11 months ago

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BANG CHAN ♡ VICTORY SONG MANIAC ENCORE IN JAPAN

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n0cturnal-g0d · 1 year ago

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Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry.

I drew Parasoul because she's so damn pretty.

#parasoul #parasoul skullgirls #skullgirls #skullgirls second encore #skullgirls mobile #skullgirls fanart #skullgirls parasoul #parasoul fanart #my art ♡

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adragonprinceswhore · 5 months ago

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Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room.

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep.

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce.

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show.

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you.

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name.

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained.

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No.

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued.

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower.

No hair.

No makeup.

Great.

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down.

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit.

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour.

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for.

Three interviews down, two to go.

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated.

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is.

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so”

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life.

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum,

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest.

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present.

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh.

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words.

Betrayal?

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath.

You will not cause a scene.

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you.

You will not give him what he wants.

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps.

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond?

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet.

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror.

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red.

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album.

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process.

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately.

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour.

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates.

Well, mostly with Aemond.

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now.

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close.

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name.

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak.

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body.

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it.

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can”

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses.

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches.

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition.

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained.

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan.

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin.

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories.

They hurt the most.

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be.

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own.

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time.

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving.

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap.

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you.

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over,

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented”

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking.

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks.

“Of course”, you reply shortly.

Why is he asking for permission?

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds,

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door,

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind.

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin.

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room.

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic.

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you?

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name.

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night.

“What would you do if I were there?”

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background.

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”.

Aemond groans.

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are.

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you.

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage.

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good.

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers.

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’.

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio.

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing,

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him.

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience.

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds.

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best.

Where you can contribute something to the world.

Make people happy.

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song.

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder.

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you.

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing,

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back.

Fuck that.

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell.

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down.

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you.

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching.

Why is he suddenly so intimidating?

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago.

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago.

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man.

You hear the crowd cheer.

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye.

The crowd cheers louder and louder.

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar.

Never looking down.

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #my fics #rumours #Spotify

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w1w2 · 21 days ago

Note

Can I request for Yn surprise Sana in last day of misamo concert promotion . Tnx

Encore of Love

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 4,5k

Synopsis: Reader surprises her girlfriend Sana during Misamo's final concert at Kyocera Dome.

Notes: My first request! *kicking my feet and giggling* I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The grand Kyocera Dome hummed with electric anticipation, a living, breathing entity alive with the chatter of tens of thousands of ONCEs who had gathered for Misamo’s final concert of the HAUTE COUTURE promotions. The sprawling venue, renowned for its iconic architecture and exceptional acoustics, was transformed into a dazzling world of light and color, each corner meticulously designed to reflect the elegance and energy of Misamo.

Banners bearing images of Mina, Sana, and Momo adorned every available surface, their radiant smiles seemingly watching over the crowd. Outside, vendors sold exclusive merchandise, lightsticks, posters, and limited-edition concert wear, all of which fans clutched tightly as they shuffled into the arena. The faint sound of music seeped through the walls, further heightening the excitement.

Backstage, the mood was just as electric, albeit tinged with nervous energy. The members of Misamo were in the final stages of their preparation. Stylists fluttered around them, adding last-minute touches to their already impeccable hair and makeup. Mina reviewed her choreography with the precision of a seasoned professional, her calm demeanor a steadying force amidst the chaos. Momo bounced on the balls of her feet, her vibrant energy filling the room as she hyped herself up for the performance.

And then there was Sana, who was the heart of the group tonight. She stood near the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of her sparkling outfit, a mix of glittering silver and pastel hues. Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of excitement and focus as she practiced her warm-up routines. Yet, beneath her radiant smile, a hint of something softer lingered, a yearning.

Sana’s thoughts drifted momentarily to Y/N. It wasn’t unusual for her to miss Y/N before a big performance, but tonight felt different. The culmination of the Misamo second mini album promotions was a milestone, one she’d poured her heart into, and the absence of her partner left a subtle void. The phone call they’d shared earlier replayed in her mind.

“Baby, I wish I could be there…” Y/N’s voice had sounded warm but hurried, laced with a vague excuse that Sana couldn’t quite decipher.

“It’s okay,” Sana had replied, masking her disappointment. “I know you’re busy. Just… don’t forget to watch the stream, okay?”

“Of course,” Y/N had reassured her, her voice softening. “You’ll be amazing, I know it. I’ll call you right after.”

Back in the venue, Sana shook the thought away. There was no room for distractions now. She had to give her all for the fans who had supported them every step of the way. Yet, as she headed towards the stage, a small voice in her heart whispered, I wish you were here.

Meanwhile, in the audience, hidden among the crowd, a figure sat quietly in the shadows. Clad in a hoodie, a mask, and a baseball cap pulled low over their eyes, Y/N kept her head down, careful not to attract any attention. She gripped her lightstick tightly, heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.

Just a little bit longer, Y/N thought, stealing a glance at the stage where the preparations were in full swing. The plan she’d meticulously crafted over the past few weeks was set in motion. All she needed now was perfect timing.

In the distance, the roaring chants of the crowd swelled, echoing through the dome as the stage lights dimmed, signaling that the concert was about to begin. The countdown had started, not just for Misamo, but for the surprise that would light up Sana’s heart.

It hadn’t been easy, pulling off a gesture like this. There had been countless sleepless nights, a relentless travel schedule, and the constant fear of slipping up and giving herself away. But Y/N knew it would all be worth it when Sana finally saw what she had planned. As the lights danced across the stage, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to the whirlwind of planning that had led her to this very moment.

Few hours earlier Y/N paced back and forth in her hotel room, phone pressed to her ear. Her chest tightened with both guilt and excitement as Sana’s voice came through, soft and loving despite the distance between them.

“Baby, you sound exhausted,” Sana said, her tone tinged with concern. “Have you been eating properly? Sleeping enough?”

Y/N smiled despite herself, Sana’s caring nature always finding a way to melt her heart. She glanced at the clock, calculating the hours until she would see her girlfriend. Not long now, she thought, biting her lip to suppress the excitement bubbling inside her.

“I’m fine, love,” Y/N replied, her voice steady though her heart raced. “Work has been hectic, that’s all. I promise I’ll call you later tonight, okay? I have to go now.”

A faint pause came from the other end. “Oh… okay. Just don’t overwork yourself, alright? I’ll miss you tonight.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hated being vague with Sana, but the surprise was worth it. “I’ll miss you too. You’re going to be amazing tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sana said softly before the line disconnected.

With a sigh of relief, Y/N dropped onto the bed, her mind racing through the intricate plan she had spent weeks coordinating. This wasn’t just about showing up at the concert; it was about making a statement, proving to Sana just how much she meant to her.

Step One: Learning the Choreography

Y/N’s first challenge was mastering the choreography for the encore medley, a feat she had never attempted before. Dancing wasn’t her forte, but she was determined to nail every move.

Under the guidance of Misamo’s choreographer, she practiced tirelessly whenever her schedule allowed. Late nights in the dance studio became a ritual, her muscles sore and her body aching, but the thought of Sana’s smile kept her going.

“She’s going to freak out when she sees you up there,” Momo had teased during one of Y/N’s secret rehearsals.

“You think so?” Y/N asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“Absolutely,” Mina chimed in, offering Y/N a bottle of water. “But you’ll have to keep it a secret until then. Sana’s like a radar when it comes to you.”

Y/N grinned, her determination hardening. “I’ll make it worth it.”

Step Two: The Flowers and Letter

Next on the list was preparing Sana’s favorite bouquet, an arrangement of pastel pink and white peonies, accented with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. Y/N had spent hours researching florists in Osaka to ensure the bouquet would be perfect. Alongside it, she penned a handwritten letter, pouring her heart into every word.

Dear Sana,

I’ve missed more than just your concerts. I’ve missed you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and I can’t wait to tell you just how much you mean to me tonight.

You’ve been my light, even when I’ve been far away. I hope this little surprise makes you feel as loved as you make me feel every single day.

Love, Y/N.

She folded the letter carefully, slipping it into an envelope adorned with a small heart sticker.

Step Three: Gaining Permission

Convincing the managers to allow her on stage had been a delicate process. Misamo’s schedule was packed, and every second of the concert was tightly planned. Thankfully, Mina and Momo had pulled a few strings, vouching for Y/N’s commitment and the sentimental significance of her gesture.

“We promise she won’t disrupt the flow,” Momo had assured the managers with her signature cheeky grin.

“Just think of it as an extra special encore for the fans,” Mina added diplomatically.

Reluctantly, the managers agreed, giving Y/N clearance to join the stage during the closing part.

Step Four: The Disguise

On the night of the concert, Y/N’s final task was to blend in with the crowd unnoticed. She donned a simple black hoodie, paired with jeans and sneakers. A baseball cap and mask completed her disguise. As she entered the arena, she felt a thrill of nervous energy.

Y/N pulled back from her thoughts as the fans around her were buzzing with excitement, waving lightsticks and chanting Misamo members names. Y/N sat near the back, where she could watch the first half of the show without drawing attention to herself. She clutched her lightstick tightly, her heart pounding as the lights dimmed and the concert began.

For now, she was just another fan in the crowd. But soon, she would take the stage, and Sana would know exactly how much she was loved.

The stage, an intricate masterpiece of dazzling LED panels and towering floral arrangements, pulsed with vivid colors as the opening notes of Misamo’s first song reverberated through the air.

Mina, Sana, and Momo emerged from behind the massive screens, their synchronized steps and radiant smiles igniting deafening cheers from the audience. Their outfits sparkled under the stage lights, sleek designs that exuded both elegance and charm.

From the moment they stepped onto the stage, Misamo radiated effortless grace and energy, their performances honed to perfection. Mina’s moves were fluid and precise, every gesture executed with the poise of a professional. Momo’s energy lit up the stage, her sharp, dynamic dance style captivating the crowd. And Sana—

Sana shone brightest of all.

Her soft features were illuminated by the glow of the stage lights, her eyes shimmering as she sang and danced with effortless charm. Her radiant smile, the one that could light up even the darkest corners of a room, was ever-present, and yet… something was missing.

As Sana twirled across the stage during “Marshmallow”, the fans could see nothing but joy, but there was a subtle, fleeting shadow in her expression, a quiet longing. She gave her all to the performance, yet there was a small space in her heart that felt incomplete.

Hidden in the crowd, Y/N's eyes never leaving Sana. Her heart swelled with pride and affection as she watched her girlfriend perform with such grace and confidence. But she also noticed the faint longing in Sana’s gaze, and it only made her more determined to make her surprise unforgettable.

Y/N clutched her lightstick tightly, her fingers trembling slightly from the mixture of nerves and excitement. “You’re incredible, Sana,” she murmured under her breath, the words swallowed by the thunderous applause around her.

As Misamo transitioned seamlessly into “Identity”, the energy in the room reached a fever pitch. The camera operators expertly captured every moment, occasionally panning across the audience. On one such pan, the lens lingered briefly on a hooded figure seated discreetly near the back. Y/N froze for a split second but quickly turned her face away, pretending to adjust her cap.

The fans, blissfully unaware of the figure’s true identity, simply assumed she was another ONCE enjoying the show.

Y/N, however, felt the weight of the moment. Her chest tightened with anticipation as she waited for "New Look", her cue to slip backstage and put the next phase of her plan into action. Until then, she allowed herself to enjoy the performance, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she whispered to herself, “Just wait, Sana. I’ll make tonight unforgettable.”

The thunderous applause from “New Look” had barely subsided when the stage lights dimmed, casting the arena into a hushed anticipation. The opening notes of “Behind the Curtain” began to echo through the dome, a hauntingly beautiful melody that always left the audience spellbound.

This was Y/N’s moment.

While the crowd cheered in unison, Y/N slipped away from her seat and made her way through the staff entrance, her heart pounding. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now. A backstage crew member ushered her into a small dressing room where a coordinated outfit awaited her.

Y/N changed quickly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tightened the laces on her performance shoes. One last glance in the mirror revealed a nervous but determined woman. She took a deep breath, clutching the bouquet and letter she’d prepared.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself before handing the bouquet to a staff member to bring to the stage later.

As the first song of the encore was ending Y/N joined the backup dancers lining up behind the screens for the encore medley.

Sana, alongside Mina and Momo, twirled across the stage with radiant energy, their synchronization flawless as they transitioned into the last part of the encore. Her playful expressions and smooth moves captivated the audience, drawing cheers so loud they vibrated through the air.

She was too immersed in the performance to notice at first.

When Y/N stepped onto the stage among the backup dancers, blending seamlessly into the choreography, she couldn’t help but smile at how surreal the moment felt. Each step she had rehearsed so many times now felt automatic, her focus entirely on Sana.

The crowd didn’t seem to recognize Y/N right away, though a few murmurs rippled through the audience as some fans noticed a new face on stage.

It wasn’t until the "Wah Wah Wah" part, when Sana turned to interact with the dancers, her gaze landed on Y/N.

For a split second, Sana froze mid-step, her eyes widening in disbelief. Her usual polished composure faltered as her radiant smile transformed into a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” she mouthed silently, her voice drowned out by the music.

Y/N flashed her a small, playful wink before continuing the routine. Sana quickly recovered, her movements a little lighter now, as if she’d been infused with a burst of joy.

The audience, unaware of their connection, erupted into cheers at Sana’s visibly delighted reaction. Fans began speculating among themselves, sensing there's something more special then just friendship between two girls.

As the medley ended, the lights dimmed again, and the stage was briefly quiet. The members of Misamo moved toward the front of the stage to thank their fans, their microphones already in hand. But before they could begin, the spotlight shifted to Y/N, who stepped forward from the group of dancers, clutching the bouquet of flowers.

The crowd gasped in unison as Y/N pulled off a mic, lowered her head slightly, and began to speak into the arena’s microphone.

“Hi, everyone,” Y/N began, her voice steady despite the overwhelming mix of nerves and love. She turned her gaze to Sana, who stood frozen, her hand pressed to her chest as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I wanted to take this moment to say how incredibly proud I am of you girls. Especially you, Sana. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done, everything you’ve achieved. Even though I couldn’t be there for most of this journey, I’ve been cheering for you every step of the way. You light up every room you walk into, and you’ve been my light too. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

Sana’s tears finally spilled over as she stepped closer, her radiant smile trembling with emotion. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their phones lighting up the arena as they captured the heartfelt moment.

Y/N held out the bouquet, which Sana accepted with trembling hands. Pulling Y/N into a tight embrace, she whispered, just loud enough for Y/N to hear, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N murmured back, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

As the cheers grew louder, Sana and Y/N stepped back together, still holding hands, their smiles beaming brighter than any spotlight. Rest of the Misamo joined them moments later, Mina and Momo grinning mischievously as they teased Sana for tearing up on stage.

The group waved to the crowd one last time before disappearing backstage, the echoes of the audience’s applause following them as they left the stage together.

The backstage area buzzed with post-show energy. Crew members congratulated each other, Misamo’s managers offered heartfelt praise, and staff snapped photos to commemorate the final concert. In the midst of it all, Y/N found herself pulled into hugs from both Mina and Momo, their teasing smiles already giving away their plans to poke fun at her.

“You really pulled it off,” Momo said, grinning as she leaned against the dressing room doorframe. “I was a little worried you’d trip on stage during ‘Marshmallow,’ part but you nailed it!”

Mina nodded in agreement, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “We’ve been keeping this secret for weeks, and honestly? Watching Sana’s face when she realized it was you made it all worth it.”

“Her jaw practically hit the floor,” Momo added with a laugh, glancing at Sana, who was trying (and failing) not to blush. “The fans noticed too. You might’ve just become the most iconic backup dancer in Misamo history.”

“Stop it, you two,” Sana huffed, though the blush on her cheeks deepened. She turned to Y/N with a small pout, her tone softening. “You really had to involve these two in your grand scheme?”

Y/N shrugged, feigning innocence. “I needed backup for the backup plan. And I’d say it worked out pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

Sana rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Stop teasing me,” she whined, though her soft smile betrayed just how happy she was.

Y/N, emboldened by the lighthearted banter, chimed in, “Come on, it was worth it just to see you cry on stage.”

Sana narrowed her eyes, pretending to be offended. “I wasn’t crying. It was… emotional perspiration!”

“Right,” Y/N said with a laugh, reaching out to take Sana’s hand. The group dissolved into laughter, the camaraderie between them shining brighter than ever.

After a flurry of photos with the crew and staff, the four of them retreated to Misamo’s dressing room. Momo flopped dramatically onto the couch while Mina carefully began removing her stage accessories.

Sana and Y/N sat side by side, their fingers intertwined as if they couldn’t bear to let go. Despite the teasing, Mina and Momo exchanged knowing glances, quietly slipping out of the room to give the couple a rare moment of privacy.

As they left the venue later that night, the streets of Osaka were alive with fans lingering in the afterglow of the concert. Y/N and Sana walked hand in hand, their steps slow and unhurried as they basked in each other’s presence.

“You know,” Sana began, her voice soft, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you here tonight until I saw you on that stage. It felt like… everything was perfect.”

Y/N squeezed her hand gently. “I hated missing so much of your promotion. I felt like I wasn’t there for you, and I wanted to make up for that. You deserve to know how loved you are, not just by ONCEs, but by me.”

Sana leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder as they continued walking. “You don’t have to make up for anything. Just being here tonight was more than enough.”

“Well, I’m glad I made you cry anyway,” Y/N teased, earning a light shove from Sana.

Later that night, the warm glow of the hotel room’s ambient lighting created an intimate cocoon around Y/N and Sana. They sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, a late-night dinner spread out between them. The faint hum of the city outside was the only sound beyond their laughter.

Sana picked at a piece of sushi, giggling as she recounted the encore’s highlights. “Did you see Momo trying to suppress her laugh when the confetti cannon misfired? She almost tripped over Mina during the turn.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning back on her hands as she watched Sana relive the moment, her face animated and glowing with happiness. “I did. But somehow you managed to keep it together and still look flawless. Seriously, how do you do that?”

Sana shrugged with mock modesty, a playful glint in her eyes. “Years of practice. You pick up a thing or two when the cameras are always on you.”

Their lighthearted conversation slowed as they finished their food, settling into a comfortable silence. Sana leaned against the edge of the bed, her head tilted slightly as she admired the skyline from the room’s window. Y/N, meanwhile, shifted nervously, her heart racing. She reached into her bag, her fingers brushing against the small velvet box she’d kept hidden all evening.

Clearing her throat, Y/N finally spoke. “Hey, um… I have something for you.”

Sana turned to her, curious. “What is it?”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Just… open it.” She handed Sana the box with a shy smile, her palms slightly sweaty despite the calm demeanor she tried to project.

Sana’s brows knit together in surprise as she took the box, her fingers gently traced Graff logo on the box, carefully lifting the lid. Her breath hitched when her eyes landed on the delicate diamond necklace nestled inside. The necklace sparkled even under the soft hotel lighting, its intricate floral design exuding timeless elegance.

“Y/N…” Sana’s voice wavered, her fingertips brushing lightly over the diamonds. “This is… it’s stunning. But… this is way too much. I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” Y/N interrupted, her tone gentle yet firm. She shifted closer, taking Sana’s free hand in hers. “Because you’re worth everything to me. This necklace, it’s not just a gift. It’s a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, I’m always thinking of you. You mean more to me than I could ever put into words, and I want you to have something that shows just a fraction of that.”

Sana’s eyes brimmed with tears, her lips quivering as she tried to find the right words. She shook her head softly, a smile breaking through the emotion. “You’re so ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, brushing her thumb across the back of Sana’s hand. “Ridiculous in the best way, I hope.”

“In every way,” Sana whispered, her voice barely audible as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Y/N’s.

Y/N gently took the necklace from the box and moved behind Sana, her fingers deftly clasping it around her neck. The cool weight of the diamonds settled against Sana’s collarbone, glinting softly in the light. Y/N adjusted it slightly, leaning back to admire how it looked.

“Perfect,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with warmth.

Sana turned around slowly, her face inches from Y/N’s. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice hushed. “But you… you’re the one who makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her. “I think that makes two of us.”

Without another word, Sana leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, unhurried, and filled with all the unspoken love between them. Y/N cupped Sana’s cheek gently, her thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as they shared the quiet moment.

When they finally pulled back, Sana rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder, her fingers tracing absent patterns on Y/N’s arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For tonight. For everything.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her heart swelling with love. “Always.”

Later, as they lay curled up on the bed, Sana’s head resting on Y/N’s shoulder, the necklace caught the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

The soft glow of Sana’s phone illuminated the room as she scrolled through the TWICE group chat, her head nestled comfortably against Y/N’s shoulder. The two of them were snuggled under the blankets, their legs tangled together, exhaustion from the long day settling into their bones. But neither seemed ready to fall asleep just yet.

“Look at this,” Sana murmured, tilting her phone so Y/N could see the screen. The chat was alive with messages, the names of TWICE’s members lighting up with playful banter.

Momo: The way Sana looked at Y/N… iconic. Mina: Her jaw literally dropped. I should’ve recorded it from the stage instead of waiting for fan cams. Nayeon: Sana, if you don’t marry her soon, I’m calling dibs. Jihyo: Nayeon, stop stealing people’s girlfriends! Chaeyoung: Sana, can you ask Y/N to teach us the choreography? She’s a natural. Dahyun: The fans are losing it! Y/N is officially a Twice bias now. Tzuyu: You mean Sana’s bias.

Sana giggled softly, hiding her face in Y/N’s neck. “They’re relentless.”

Y/N laughed, her hand gently running through Sana’s hair. “I think Nayeon unnie might actually be serious about that marriage comment.”

“Not a chance,” Sana said with a playful pout, shifting to look up at Y/N. “You’re mine.”

Y/N smiled down at her, their eyes meeting in the dim light. “Always.”

Sana’s phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t the group chat. It was a flood of notifications from social media. Curiosity piqued, she tapped into one of the trending hashtags. Sure enough, the internet was ablaze with clips and fan edits of Y/N’s surprise appearance at the concert.

Fans gushed about Y/N’s unexpected presence, praising her dedication and swooning over Sana’s emotional reaction. The hashtags #YNSanaSurprise and #BestFriendGoals trended worldwide, with tweets and videos pouring in by the second.

“Look at this one,” Sana said, pointing to a video compilation of their moment on stage, set to a romantic ballad.

The caption read: “Y/N and Sana’s friendship goals… or something more? Either way, we’re obsessed!”

Y/N chuckled. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

Sana locked her phone and placed it on the nightstand, turning her full attention back to Y/N. “Let them guess,” she said softly, her fingers tracing small circles on Y/N’s arm. “As long as we know the truth, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N leaned down to kiss her forehead. “And the truth is, I love you more than anything, Sana. Today, tomorrow, forever.”

Sana’s smile was radiant, even in the dark. “Forever sounds perfect.”

They lay there in comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing together. Outside, the city lights sparkled, a reminder of the bustling world beyond their little sanctuary. But in that moment, there was only them.

As the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink, Y/N tightened her hold on Sana, their bodies wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Their breaths intertwined, their hearts beating as one, creating a silent melody that spoke louder than any words ever could.

No matter what the future held, grueling schedules, endless flights, or the watchful eyes of the world, they knew their love would endure. It wasn’t just a fleeting moment of happiness, but a steady force that grounded them, a light they could always turn to even on the darkest days.

Y/N placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sana’s head, her voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the morning. “We’ll take on everything together, no matter what. You and me, always.”

Sana stirred slightly, her lips curving into a small, sleepy smile as she murmured back, “Always.”

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