#Boring beyond words while on a meeting

[magnificent-winged-beast]

Xtiel

XeanXas

XAS!

[fallingformatt]

SEXUAL TENSION M.S.

bsf!Matt x fem!reader

summary: the sexual tension between you and your best friend Matt causes you two to ‘talk it out’ in the car

based on these requests available: here, here

warnings: filthy ass smut bro

word count: 3.2k

a/n: I’ve been so busy with work, but im glad i finally found the time to write something hope yall enjoy it :) this post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

"Wait do you like him?" my friend asks with a smirk on her lips as she playfully pushes my shoulder.

I was hanging out with my friend at the beach tanning, eating some grapes, swimming and just taking in the sun.

"I don't know, it's like this weird sexual tension between us like I just feel that hot and bothered vibe coming from him," I say to my friend as I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers.

"As in general or like just around you?" She asks me while raising an eyebrow. "Girl I don't know, we don't talk about how often we get laid," I say with a serious tone. "You should then," she answers as one corner of her lips rises up followed by a wink. "Can we not? I'm not asking Matt if he wants to fuck me or just fuck in general, let's change the subject," I say now slightly annoyed about how long this topic has dragged on.

I have to admit though, in the past couple of weeks there have been moments of strong sexual tension between me and my best friend Matt. I don't know what it is but every time we hang out in a group setting, I feel him throwing glances at me while fidgeting with his rings practically undressing me with his eyes, his eyes seem to scan me up and down, eventually meeting mine every time, his stare would get this hint of hunger like he's been starving for something, so I went for advice to my friend but she doesn't have a serious bone in her body so it obviously didn't go far.

Not even a second later I heard my phone ring. I turn it facing up to look who's calling. My friend leans in pushing up her sunglasses to see the caller as well. "Oh it's Matt, you should ask him if he's down to fuck," she says with a huge smile plastered across her face. "You're so funny," I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes before answering the phone.

"Hey!" I say as I bring up the phone to my ear.

"Hey, what are you up to?" Matt asks.

"Nothing much, I'm at the beach with a friend," I say as I turn my head to look at her, as soon as I do so, I see her standing on her knees humping the air before she points to my phone laughing. I instantly facepalm regretting that I even mentioned something to her.

"Hello, are you there?" I hear on the phone.

I snap back as I remember that I'm currently on the phone with Matt.

"Yeah sorry, what did you say," I say.

"I asked if the weather is nice, am I really that boring?" Matt says.

"No I was just looking at my friend, she was kicking down someone's sand castle," I lie as I search around with my free hand for something to throw at my friend. "Yeah the weather is nice, the water is really warm too, what are you doing?" I continue.

"I'm driving home, do you want to do something later?" Matt asks and I see my friend walking over to me kneeling next to me pressing her ear against my phone trying to hear what Matt is saying.

"Yeah I'm down, do you have something in mind?" I answer as I try to push my friend away with my elbow staring at her and shaking my head.

"Chris and Nick really want to see you, so I was thinking we could go to topgolf, and get something to eat after that," he offers.

I see my friend nodding her head up and down signaling me to say yes. How did she even hear that is beyond me.

"Yeah I'm down, should be fun," I say.

"Alright I'll pick you up at 7, see you then," he says before ending the call

I look down next to me and see one grape lying in the sand, without giving it a second thought, I pick it up and throw it at my friend. "You're such a child," I say as I roll my eyes smiling. "You still love me," she says sitting down smiling, finally relaxing after being on my case this whole time.

The sun had started to set and we decided to head back to my friend's house. The beach is like a 10 minute walk from her place. "What time is he picking you up?" My friend asks me.

"He's picking me up at 7, but it's not like you didn't know that already, you're so nosy," I say as I look down at my phone to see the time. "Shit it's 6:27 pm already, there's no way I'm gonna get back to my house and get ready in time.

"You can just get ready at my place," she offers. I nod and pull out my phone from my pocket and text Matt the new address.

We go into her house and I drop my bag at the door running for the bathroom to shower. I turn on the water and hop in.

"Are you really that excited to see him?" my friend asks as she opens the door to the bathroom. "What do you mean?" I ask her. "I mean you rushed to take a shower so fast, surely you're excited to meet up with him," she says as I hear her turning on the sink to wash her hands. "I'm literally just showering, I don't want to be sweaty, covered in sand, and gross, no matter who I'm meeting up with," I defend myself. "Whatever you say," my friend says as she leaves the bathroom.

I hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. I went past the kitchen to my friend's room. I open the door and she's sitting in front of her vanity doing her skincare playing some music in the background.

My eyes lay upon an outfit lying down on her bed, it's a short jean skirt and a black lace tank top, I raise my eyebrow in confusion "What's this?" I ask. "It's an outfit for you to wear," she answers, I tilt my head. "Well unless you're gonna go to topgolf in sweats and a bathing suit, you should wear what's on the bed," she exclaims. "But this is what I would wear if we went clubbing not something I would wear hanging out with friends," I answer. "Trust me on this one," my friend replies. "You seriously need to move on," I say as I grab the outfit and put it on.

I check my phone to see the time, 7:05 pm it reads and as I was about to put down my phone I receive a text from Matt.

"I'm here" that's all the text says.

"I have to go," I say to my friend as I stand up from her vanity and head for the door. "Wait, just one more thing," she says as she runs over to me with a perfume bottle and sprays a few sprays on me. "What's that?" I ask. "It's a pheromone perfume, it's supposed to make guys crazy," she says, smiling proudly holding the bottle. I just sigh as I go for the door. "This way we'll find out if he wants to fuck in general or if he wants to fuck you!" my friend says happily, waving at me as I exit.

I get in the front seat as I see that Chris is sitting at the back. "Hey," Nick exclaims. "Hey," I say to everyone as I put on my seatbelt. "You look good," Matt says as he turns his head looking me up and down and Nick nods his head in agreement. "Thanks, guys," I say and we start driving. We're now driving for about 15 minutes, there's music blasting through the whole car as Nick and Chris are arguing, trying to scream over the loud music about which is the best spongebob episode making me giggle from time to time.

We're stopped at a red light and as I'm scrolling through my phone I feel someone's eyes on me, I pick up my head and see Matt looking at me, there it is again, that hungry stare, he's looking me up and down before his eyes again meet mine. I see him bite his lower lip before a little smirk creeps up on his lips. "You look so fucking good," he says, making me smile, his voice was deeper than usual. He turns his head to focus on the road again as the light turns green.

This is the vibe I was talking about with my friend earlier, we've never had this kind of tension between us before.

I turned my head back to see if Chris and Nick noticed his comment, and no they were still arguing, but the topic of the argument had changed to waffles and pancakes.

"We're here," Matt says as the car stops and he pulls out the keys from the engine and we all exit the car. As we go in, Nick goes to registration and pays for all of us. We all walk to our playing area and we all get something to snack on and some drinks.

"I'm up first," Matt says as he walks over to the playing area, he sets up the ball and swings the golf club. Next up is Nick, he does the same, now it's my turn, I walk up to the playing area, set up the ball, and take a swing with my golf club, I miss completely and I turn my head to look at everyone laughing, well almost everyone, Matt is the only one who's not laughing, which made me less embarrassed, I guess that's what best friends are for. "You need any help?" He asks, I nod my head and he stands up walking over to me.

I set myself up to take a shot and Matt walks over standing behind me, he puts his hands over mine "You have to hold the club tightly, okay?" Matt says as he tightens his grip around my hands. "Keep your back straight," he says and I straighten my back, which causes my butt to brush against his crotch. He inhales sharply before he continues, "Now swing," he says as he guides my hands with his swinging them to the side before hitting the golf ball and watching it fly away. I turn around to face Matt, "thank you," I say as I give him a hug. Before I get to pull away I feel his arm around the back of my neck as he leans into my ear, "you did so good," he says as he lets me go a slight grin forming on his lips, we walk back to the lounge area and Chris stands up as it is his turn now.

I was now sitting watching them play as I understood pretty quickly that there wasn't gonna be a golfer made out of me. Throughout the night I kept noticing Matt's glances, he's now sitting across from me, and he's staring me up and down as he's fidgeting with his rings. His gaze sends shivers down my spine, making me actually shiver and Nick notices.

"Are you cold? I left a sweater in the car, Matt can get it," he offers, " yeah that would be nice," I say as I look back at Matt and he seems to snap back into reality not really understanding what's going on.

"Come on Matt, I'm gonna go with you to get the sweater," I say to help him understand what's going on, he nods and stands up and we start walking to the car. I was actually glad that I managed to get him alone, I needed to understand what was going on with him, but I didn't want to ask with everyone around.

As we get to the car he unlocks it and I get into the front passenger seat and lean back to get the sweater Nick was talking about, as I grab the sweater I hear the door open, I turn my head to look and I see Matt leaning down, his arm resting against the open door. "You ready?" He asks. "No get in," I say as I lean back into my seat, placing the sweater in my lap. Matt gets in the car and closes the door. "What's up?" He asks. "I should be asking you that," I answer and Matt tilts his head confused by my statement.

"What's going on with you?" I ask. "What do you mean?" He answers me with a question not understanding what I'm talking about. I take a deep breath slightly nervous about what I'm going to say next, but I needed some clarity so I knew I had to ask. "Past couple of weeks you have been zoning out, staring at me," I state, I watch his face, waiting for his reaction. His expression grows dark, and once again his glare turns dark.

"You're driving me fucking insane, " he says his voice getting deeper again, "you don't know what you're doing to me, your sent, your presence," he says as he moves his stare from my eyes to my lips before licking his. "Tell me," I say as I put my arm on his bicep. "How about I show you instead," he says as a smirk appears on his lips. He leans over and grabs the outer side of my thigh, signaling me to move. I cautiously move over the center console his arms grabbing and holding my ass for support as he guides me to sit in his lap.

Without any warning he pushes his lips onto mine, kissing me roughly. One of my hands travel to his hair and the other one rests on his chest, his hands travel to my hips, pushing and guiding them back and forth, I let out a quiet moan as I break the kiss, "Matt this is wrong," I say as I try to calm down my breathing. "I don't care, I want you," he says as he smashes his lips back onto mine and I give into the kiss, he moves from my lips to my cheek and down to my jawline, his one hand still guiding my hips back and forth as the other hand moves over my ass grabbing it and slapping it.

I'm not fighting him and give into his touch fully, I throw my head back as I feel my panties getting wet and a moan slips past my lips, Matt takes advantage and attacks my neck, leaving wet kisses, slipping in a few bites as he's sucking on my sensitive skin leaving marks.

"Move up," he says, his voice is demanding. I move my ass up, both of my hands move to his shoulders as I hold them for support. He quickly unbuckles his belt and bucks up his hips sliding his jeans down along with his boxers. Matt's hand travels to my panties, he rubs against my clothed clit before sliding them to the side with one quick motion. He places his hands on my waist pushing me down and signaling me to sit down again.

He pushes his lips on my neck leaving sweet kisses around the dark marks he had created, he leans back and his eyes lock onto the hickeys, "pretty," he says as he grabs my jaw, his thumb brushing over the bruised, sensitive skin.

Matt grabs my ass as he moves me slightly up, positioning his dick against my entrance before pushing me down, I let my head fall on the nape of his neck as my elbows rest on his shoulders, my hands roaming his hair, I let out a moan as I start to move my hips.

"You feel so good princess," Matt groans, his hand tightly around my waist as the other one holds a tight grasp on my ass, his nails digging into my skin as I become a hot mess on top of him. "Matt," I moan out, my movements are sloppy and sensual.

"We can't be gone for too long," Matt whispers in my ear and suddenly fastens his thrusts underneath me. A sudden feeling of overbearing pleasure comes over me as I throw my head back no longer able to control my breath, moans and whimpers leave my mouth before I bite my lower lip trying to be quiet. "Baby don't be quiet, I'll make you scream my name," Matt growls deeply as his hand travels to my lower back holding me for support.

"Will you?" I manage to slip out between my moans as I start to grind faster on his cock. "You're such a brat," he says as his hand wraps around my hair pulling my head backward. His lips attack my collarbone, he's sucking and pulling on my skin slipping in a few bites, I hiss at the pain, "not so brave anymore huh," he says as he detaches from my collarbone before leaving a trail of kisses up my neck before meeting my lips.

"I'm," I whimper, my hands roaming around for something to hold onto as I feel my climax approach me. "You're?" Matt asks proudly as he's the one making me unable to finish my sentence. "Close," I manage to moan out between his hard thrusts and my grinding as we move in sync. "What was that huh?" He chuckles. I grab the collar of his shirt to pull myself together as I gather my strength to form a sentence.

"I'm so close Matt don't stop," I blur out, I feel my walls closing around his twitching cock. "You take my dick so well baby," Matt moans out sending me over the edge. "Matt," I scream out as my orgasm takes over me. Matt lets out a low growl-like moan, as I feel his seed pumping into me. I push my lips against his in order not to scream as I ride out my high.

"Oh my god Matt," I say as I move off of his cock and back to the seat next to him. "You did so good princess," he says as he leans in and kisses my forehead before he pulls up his pants. "We should get back," Matt says and I nod in agreement. I take Nick's sweater and pull it over my head putting it on.

As we step out of the car, I close the door and fix my short denim skirt and I see Matt fixing his belt. "I'm gonna leave the window slightly open," he says slightly chuckling pointing to the windows that had fully fogged up and I let out a small laugh as well.

"What took you two so long," Nick says as he looks at us and we try not to look suspicious. "We were talking," I say confidently, I see Nick shifting his eyes from Matt to me, and his eyes fall down to my neck as a smirk appears on his lips, "you got something here," Nick says as he brushes over his own neck with two fingers. My eyes immediately shoot to Matt as I slap his shoulder from the back.

I guess there definitely was some sexual tension between us that needed to be resolved.

[kabuki-writes]

The Laugh of Nero

chapter: 4 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius faces the consequences of his conspiracy, while his daughter unexpectedly meets Emperor Caracalla alone for the first time.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 3.6k

Romans loved the story of old philosopher Seneca. He was once the teacher of Emperor Nero almost 200 years ago and although body was dead, his life continued through writings: one of it being the drama 'Octavia'. It was a popular play in the amphitheaters of Ancient Rome and beyond. And it was a favorite of yours.

The plot focused on three days during which the Emperor divorced and exiled his wife Claudia Octavia and married another, his lover Poppaea Sabina. It was indeed a tragedy, that gave the audience a glimpse into the madness of Nero, the wisdom of Seneca and the tragedy of Octavia. Oh how you could relate to Octavia. The divergence between her fear, hatred and sadness against her will to withstand and be wiser than what was thrown against her, it intrigued you. Somehow you felt the same in your current situation. On the one handside you feared the future and displeased the attention of the Emperors on you, yet you wanted to do everything to persevere. In a way, the stoic nature of Seneca's character in this play gave you some kind of guidance too. Stoicism, maybe you needed to stick to that even more as you were not able to control your surroundings as it seemed?

You took your seat in the upper-ranks of the amphitheater, accompanied by two of your closest friends. Cicero was one of the grandsons of senator Gracchus and now served as one of the senate’s transcriptors for as long as he was not old enough to candidate for a political mandate himself. The other one was Lydia, the daughter of General Britannicus, who fought alongside your father countless of times and was now fighting with his legions in the far north of the Empire. "Oh, i hope Scato is going to play Octavia this time! The last time i saw him in the role of Electra - it was just mesmerizing. He is just so handsome", Lydia sighed, as she always seemed to be that actor's number one supporter. You and Cicero laughed in response before you gave your friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I already heard that you approached him after the last play. Beware actors, Lydia. They might be charming, but they're also free spirits," you explained with a smirk on your lips, before Cicero added. "Oh everyone would run, when they hear about her father."

"Come on! Stop it! I am just daydreaming! I know he will never let me spend time with someone that isn't a boring military officer!" Lydia turned her face away because she turned completely red, but as she did, she noticed the black armory of the Praetorian guards, who escorted one of the Emperors to the royal box of the Amphitheater. "y/n, Cicero, look!"

You quickly turned your eyes to the scene and your face went pale in an instant, when you saw the luxurious decorated robe, the blonde-ginger hair and the golden laurel wreath. That profile, the curved nose and the make up... you instantly noticed, which brother was here to witness the play of 'Octavia'.

Nero.

In that very moment, he turned his head in an attempt to take a look at the crowd and you tried your best to keep your head low, while your sight was locked to the stage in front of you.

"Is everything alright, y/n?", Cicero asked irritated, while he tried to make sense of your sudden change of behavior.

"Yes, yes i just... i've never seen Emperor Caracalla here."

"Really? He comes to the theater quite often to watch plays", Lydia managed to say, before the crowd slowly fell silent as the first actor slowly walked on stage. The young woman next to you blushed and you could feel Lydia's hand clinging on your arm as if she needed something to hold on - the actor was indeed Scato and the costume he wore was 'Octavia' - a flowing robe with a long, curled wig and extravagant make-up that captured the sadness of her character perfectly.

But you couldn't really focus. Your eyes went to the royal box, the best place to watch the play in a comfortable isolation from the rest of the spectators. Here he sat, accompanied by an entourage of 'friends' and a little monkey which sat on his lap. Suddenly his eyes went from the stage over the crowd and suddenly, he saw you. Your heart sunk to your feet and you instantly turned back to the stage to witness Scato's monologue. He had seen you... and what you were not able to witness now was how he turned to one of his Praetorian Guards, to which he whispered an order.

You tried to keep calm as you stared at the stage, where Octavia was now accompanied by a chorus, who wept for the terrible treason she had to endure when Nero decided to take another woman as his wife. Meanwhile your fingers clinged into the fabric of your toga-styled dress as you gathered your thoughts. You still recalled the words you'd talked with him at the Collosseum - the way you had his attention. Women would kill for what you were able to get if you just continue - but then you heard the words of your father, you saw his worried eyes in front of you and you knew something was terribly wrong.

You were so encaptured in your own thoughts that Lydia grabbed your arm again, but this time it was not because she was about to fall for the man on stage, but because a Praetorian Guard was standing right at the side of your seats and pointed at you. "You. Follow me," he ordered in a very demanding tone, while your friends looked at you in shock. They didn't know what you'd witnessed before, so you grabbed their hands and just gave them an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me, we see each other soon, alright?", you whispered before you stood up and followed the guard upstairs to the place where Emperor Caracalla had his seat.

_________________________________

"y/n, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here! Please, take a seat!", you heard the voice of Emperor Caracalla as you stepped into the royal box of the amphitheater and bowed to him.

"Leave us, Go!", he hissed quickly to his entourage, who - without a word - got up from their seats and left as quickly as they could, but not without giving you a two-faced look. It was almost as if they already knew something you didn't, as if they both pitied and envied you at the same time. You hold their glances to not give in to any mockery they might've had in their minds and would speak out to each other when they were gone. Then it was only you and the young Emperor,... and his pet monkey, which was seemingly busy eating grapes from a bowl of fruit.

With slow, careful movements you approached the seats in the front and sat down beside Caracalla, his eyes never leaving you as you did. "A funny coincidence, is it not? I remember that we talked about 'Octavia' and here we are now", he chuckled, while he leaned back and for a moment, he watched the stage, where Seneca approached Nero about the divorce of his first wife.

"A coincidence, indeed", you answered and followed his glance. There he was, the mad Emperor, who complained about the unfair treatment of him through his own mother, which he cursed over and over again. At that point she was already dead - believed to be murdered by an order of Nero himself.

"You haven't fully answered me back then, when i asked why you see yourself as Nero". The question came from your mouth while you still followed the actor's movements in his luxurious decorated robes, a red wig on his head - it somehow reminded you of Caracalla.

"The play is written to portray him as a monster, am i sitting next to one?"

Maybe it was almost too bold to ask that. You already regretted speaking those words out loud, when his view instantly switched to you, his blue eyes digging into you like a sharp blade. Suddenly, he simply burst into a resounding laughter, that made your lose your breath for a moment, as you stared at him with irritation.

"Gods, you're really amusing", Caracalla grinned wide, showing off his gold tooth. Nonetheless he gave you an answer. "It depends..."

He raised his hand and let his little monkey climb on it. When he reached his shoulder, Caracalla took a grape and fed it to the animal, before it started to groom his wild hair. Not caring about it, he continued. "Everyone views Nero as mad for breaking the chains that his mother and his predecessor layed on him. He never loved Octavia, yet he had to marry her. He never wanted to be Emperor, yet he became one. His mother tried to control him, so much so, that he needed to get rid of this old hag." The last words were almost a hissing tone, as if he was speaking of something he could truly relate to.

"Now everyone is plotting against him, the Gods, his damned first wife, his teacher, all of Rome, only because he started to follow his own path and married the woman he loved. A tragedy, truly - not just for Octavia, don't you think?"

He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer and you sensed that this was a key moment, where you could say something wrong. In a way, you could see what he meant, but there was something he didn't see. Nero broke the chains, yes, but he broke them with cruelty, murder and terror.

"Isn't everything in our lives a tragedy?", you asked and it seemed to please Caracalla, as his bright grin returned, before he turned to the stage once more, crawling his pet monkey while he followed the next scene.

Oh how he could relate to those words. No one could understand the tragedy of his own life, always being seen as the underestimated, 'weaker' and younger brother. But he enjoyed this talk more than he was willing to admit. And he was sure that you were able to understand him to a certain degree, the first woman to do so.

Suddenly, his pet jumped over to you, climbing onto your shoulder and taking a strain of hair to look at your curls.

"Dondus, no! Don't hurt the fair lady!" In an instant, Caracalla jumped from his seat, but before he tried to take the monkey again, he noticed your sudden yet beautiful laugh and how you reached out to pat Dondus carefully, softly, with your filigran fingers. How he wished that those fingers would touch him in that very moment, while his hands stiffened.

"It is fine, please - don't worry", you said quickly, since the monkey didn't hurt you in any way - in fact the way he climbed on your shoulders, touched your hair with his tiny fingers and groomed them with interest in his dark eyes, was very cute. And your reaction was honest.

"I think, he likes you", Caracalla mumbled, while he returned to his seat, still watching you how gentle you were with Dondus, one of his only 'real friends'. It was his own pet, his alone and caring for him often calmed his mind. Just as you did in this very moment since no word came from his mouth - he just watched. Why, just why does he have to share you with Geta soon...

Slowly he reached for his cup of wine and poured it down in an attempt to numb his thoughts over this damn fact.

"You said you see yourself in Octavia, but you could be Poppaea", he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

"I could be," you responded, the focus laying on 'could', while you were still playing with the little monkey. In a way you started to find your path in this game. "Either way my fate would end in death then."

Caracalla laughed boisterous once again in response to your words, while he raised his cup. "And yet you would live in delight instead of agony. Let us toast to the inevitable death of us all". You took your cup and followed his toast.

"To the tragedy of us all." As you drank a first sip of your wine, you still saw how he looked you straight into the eyes. It was clear that he just waited for the next chance to say something and this time he was closer than before, leaning over the armrest of his throne. The Emperor was close enough for you to smell the scent of his perfumes and the wine on him.

"I just know we will have a lot of fun, once we see each other more often," he chuckled. His words hit you, but you tried your best not to drop your mask of neutrality. You'd almost began to enjoy this conversation up to this point. What did he mean by that?

Should you ask? No, it would be terribly impolite to question something like that in the presence of an Emperor. Only your lips parted, while you searched for your next words. Caracalla was the one to grin again, his gold tooth shimmering in the lights that came from the stage of the theater. And his next words rang through your ears like a bell.

"Don't forget to thank your dear father, once you're back home."

_________________________________

Marcus Acacius walked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace, escorted by the Praetorian Guard. He was not in chains, but wore his dark brown leather armor with the wine red whool cloak and his helmet under his arm - the armor of a General. In fact, he didn't really know why he was even here in the first place. It was quite early for a new war campaign, but he stopped to question them long ago anyways. It wouldn't be a surprise, if the Emperors had already found a new target for their obsession. The mere hunger for expansion was enough to never satisfy both Geta and Caracalla, who simply took military like Acacius and moved them on a map as if they were simple toy figures. The glory of Rome was what they promised the people, yet all the older man had seen was death and despair over and over again - even though he always came back with a victory laurel wreath on his head. What an irony.

The fact that everything was like the last times he was called to the palace, made him unobservant to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap. He was sure that his secret was still a secret - that he and the senators were safe in a way. Maybe safe enough to carry out their plan once the time was ready for it. How wrong he was on this...

When he stepped into the throne room, the guards behind him closed the door and he greeted Emperor Geta according to the protocol in situations like these. "My Emperor", he said with his fist on his chest and his eyes locked on the young man, who stood in front of one of the two elaborately designed thrones, which were placed on a platform at the center of the room.

"General Acacius! It is good to see you again. Come forward...," Geta called and his waving hand was a signal for him to move, to come closer. As he did, Marcus noticed that the other twin was missing, but this wasn't a surprise too since Caracalla was often 'occupied' with other things. In reality, he simply hated politics and rather threw himself into diffent forms of pleasure in an attempt to escape the stuffiness.

They were not alone, a couple of Praetorian guards stood at their distinct positions as they always did and therefore the general simply ignored them.

Meanwhile Geta had to force himself to keep a straight face, when the traitor approached him as if nothing happened at all, as if he was not about to put a sword into his neck with those filthy senators - just as Julius Caesar got betrayed by his kin and the senate as well. The young Emperor would not let this happen again.

"Tell me, General, why did i call for you?"

Acacius brows furrowed, while he looked to the map table, which was standing alone in front of the great window. It was untouched.

"I thought you might answer me that, your Grace. The last time we talked, you granted me a pause before i will regroup my legions in Ostia and start the next campaign in Numidia."

Geta's laughter filled the room in response to the General's words and it took him even more strength to not scream at him.

"Oh, don't worry, Acacius. This plan hasn't changed yet."

Yet. A feeling of unease creeped up his body, as he stood still, his eyes locked on the pale, gingerblonde royal, who stood in front of him in a toga of black and gold.

"But let us be honest now, shall we? I question your loyality to me and my brother, to Rome. As i know, you're meeting with members of the senate," Geta called out and even though this was true, Acacius kept a straight face, hiding his fear in trained perfection.

"As you know, my dear wife is the daughter of senator Galba. Is it now regarded as treason to meet with my father-in-law?"

Geta stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Acacius in an instant, while his jaw clenched in anger. His mind was like a volcano, ready to erupt at any second.

"Do you think we're fools!?", he hissed with an even more aggressive undertone that grew louder with each word. Marcus had to tackle the urge to say 'Yes', in fact there was even so much more he wanted to say right now. That they were tyrants, mad, arrogant and overall spoiled little brats, which he cursed at every given second of his life.

"We know what you're up to Acacius - a snake amongst the men we regarded as the most loyal to our father and to us. How dare you turn against us and plot with those maggots from the senate, even though you've seen that they were not able to rule an Empire for yourself! Have you no respect for Emperor Septimius Severus, who gave you all what you're now!?"

It was too late, he obviously knew. And Acacius was not even able to put in words how much he hated himself for not being able to keep it as a secret long enough. It not only put his own life in danger but the rest of his family too, his wife... his daughter. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of the consequences that might errupt in the aftermath of this audience. Yet he couldn't hold back what was laying under his tongue for so long: "You father still holds my greatest respect and loyalty even after his passing... may the gods grant him peace in elysium. But i've seen your shortcomings many, many times. You lack the wisdom and restraint he had, yes maybe even the love he had for Rome and its people. You and your brother are not worthy of the crowns he placed upon your heads."

Geta's eye twitched and he grabbed a dagger, placing it right in front of Acacius' throat. His whole body trembled in pure wrath at the audacity of that General's words.

"I should kill you now Acacius! I should kill you and all those filthy senators for that treason!", he screamed at him, while his opponent only responded with a cold and collected gaze. This look alone made him Geta even more aggressive and hateful towards Marcus, but killing him would only create another problem - so he went with the path he had already planned in his mind.

"My brother was right, you are a Brutus. But we're not Julius Caesar", Geta hissed against Acacius, leaning his head to the side for a moment, as he studied his stern facial expression. Oh how much he hated it that he didn't fear him. The Emperor wanted to change that.

"We should start all over again, shall we? As a hero of Rome, the people won't be pleased with you being crucified publically... But we can still kill your wife... your daughter?", he started and noticed how - even for a second - the corners of Acacius' mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something against this. Now there was fear, something Acacius tried desperately not to show, but Geta still noticed.

A wide, knowing smile appeared on his face and he nodded in silent agreement. "Ah, now you see the consequences. Yes, i am not above killing you kin and let you watch... but it would be such a shame, such a waste... especially for your beautiful daughter. I wonder how you will explain to her, that you threw her young life away because of your pride"

The blade of his dagger was dangerously close as the tip touched his skin at his neck, while Acacius stood in an almost frozen position.

"I have a proposal for you, Acacius...it is the only option to safe your own life and the ones of those you love the most - wed your daughter to me."

Geta's word hit Marcus like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened in response to the request of the Emperor in front of him. And his heart broke in that very moment.

"I will not sell out my daughter like this", he answered with a firm tone in his voice, but Geta only smirked and leaned forward, whispering in his ear with an amused undertone. He knew that Marcus wasn't able to say 'No' in any way. He loved his daughter too much to watch her die.

"One option, General. She either becomes my wife - and i will make her Empress of Rome. Or she will be crucified alongside your pathetic senators..."

He would always choose her life, but at what cost.

_________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you pretty please write an imagine being house s/o, only Wilson knows, either being under him in his team or in a different department. You guys have a kid together and get called from her preschool or babysitter and end up having to bring her to work with you and the kid exposes you?

As well as just some dad house

surprise? ✩ gregory house

You had the situation under control until Greg had decided to teach his little ducklings a lesson in thievery. To be more specific, Greg had shown up to Cuddy’s office- hoping to ‘borrow’ some classified documents about the patient Cuddy had forced them to treat- while you were in there- trying to convince Aunt Lisa to babysit for a few hours.

The first two hours had been fine with Clementine, but nearing the end of the third hour you had realized how hungry she had gotten. Clementine had been relatively quiet: playing with her dolls and practicing her spelling words for school and such, but she was slowly getting bored.

Being the head of radiology meant that you were constantly discussing and interacting with patients, staff, or other important individuals. So far, the first five patients you’ve spoken with hadn’t minded Clementine’s quiet chatter or when she tried to strike up a conversation with them. But that didn’t mean you felt comfortable with your own baby girl while you weren’t giving her your full attention.

And of course the moment you decide to see if Cuddy could take some time to watch Clem, Greg emerges.

“Lisa, please. Just thirty-“

“Daddy!” Clementine squeals, point and squirming around in your hold. “Mama! Look, it’s daddy! Hi daddy!”

You turn, expecting to see your husband alone. Instead of one person, you lock eyes with a beyond shocked Cameron, Chase, and Eric. Greg smiles awkwardly at you, trying to ignore the stares of his lackeys. “I have a meeting soon. Take Clem, Greg. Make sure she eats,” you continue on casually, letting Clementine clint happily to her dad. You thrn to Cuddy and then at Celementine again.

“Make sure to keep an eye on daddy, okay my little love?” You coo. Clementine smiles brightly at you.

“Okay, mama.”

“Don’t lose her,” you tell your husband dryly before patting him on the shoulder and walking out the door.

The three ducklings exchanged glances. In front of them, Clementine pokes Greg’s cheeks after inflated like a balloon. “I’m- I’m going to run another blood culture and make sure his calcium levels are normal,” Chase bullshits, fumbling for an excuse to leave.

“Say bye-bye to the blonde man, Clementine,” Greg tells his daughter.

Chase doesn’t know how to feel when his boss’s daughter waves her chubby little hand and says “bye-bye, blonde man”.

🫀- bonus:

When you swing by Greg’s office after work, you feel a smile pull at your tired lips. On Greg’s chair, your husband has his legs kicked up comfortably on the foot rest. Clementine sleeps silently on him with Greg’s arm wrapped protectively around her little back to prevent her from falling. The soothing chords of the piani drift from Greg’s record player, and you already regret having to wake up the two loves of your life.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ slim shady, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! this was supposed to be sunday’s game day fic but here it is today instead lol i am a proud og supporter of the buzz cut and it comes out in this fic. i will die on the "joe says cock not dick" hill.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, handjob, romantic dick sucking.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.1k.

You hummed to the rhythm of a song you couldn't quite remember, the office's background noise muffled as you waited for your coffee to brew. The sleek, black machine hissed and spat, the scent of dark roast filling the air. You checked your phone, scrolling through the mundane emails and notifications that had accumulated since your last break. Your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dismiss the unimportant.

Then you saw it: an image sent from Joe. Your boyfriend's name illuminated on your screen as your lips broke in a quiet smile. Curiosity piqued, you tapped it open, expecting one of Joe's rare but charming selfies with his usual wide blue eyes and awkward poses.

But your eyes widened when the image loaded—instead of the familiar mess of dirty blonde hair, you found a bald head with a wide smile. The message beneath read, "New look what do you think?" Your jaw dropped as you stared at the screen, the buzz of the office around you fading into white noise.

Your mind raced with questions.

Why hadn't he told you? What was the occasion for this dramatic change?

But the office was not the place to get into this. You had a meeting in about five minutes and the coffee was finished brewing, the aroma now taunting you with the promise of a jolting caffeine rush you desperately needed.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a text, trying to match the easy light-heartedness of his message. "Why the fuck are you bald?" You decided to add an unimpressed emoji to remove any ambiguity from your words.

Joe's response was swift. "It'll grow back?" He wrote with a laughing emoji. "Got bored. Thought I'd try something new." You could practically hear the nonchalance in his voice and you couldn't decide if it pissed you off or intrigued you. The dryness of his text was typical Joe—always questionably calm. But this was a surprise you weren't quite ready to laugh off. You took a sip of your coffee, the heat scalding your tongue as you thought about his new look.

The day dragged on, your thoughts inexplicably drawn back to Joe's bald head. You had seen him in every hairstyle imaginable—undercut, grown out, and even a questionable middle part that you had mercifully convinced him to abandon under the guise of bad luck—but this was a step beyond. You tried to focus on the spreadsheets and emails, but the image of Joe's egg head kept popping up in your mind.

By the time you left the office, your curiosity had morphed into something else entirely. An excitement you hadn't felt in a while, a thrill that made your pulse quicken. You drove home, your hand subconsciously tracing the steering wheel as you imagined running your fingers over his newly shaved scalp.

The anticipation grew as you pulled into Joe's driveway. You took a deep breath before letting yourself in, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth that awaited you inside. "Joe!" you called out, your voice echoing through the house.

"In the kitchen!" his voice responded, and you could hear the smack of a fridge door closing. You kicked off your heels, the sound of your bare feet padding against the cool, tiled floor.

As you entered the kitchen, you saw him standing by the counter, a protein shake in one hand, and his phone in the other. Your eyes scanned upwards from his broad shoulders, taking in the stark contrast of his bald head against his muscular physique. He looked up and caught your stare, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You bleached it," you murmured, the words leaving your lips in a breathy exhale. The kitchen lights reflected off his pale scalp, giving him an unexpected edginess.

Joe chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Surprise," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Your hand flew to your mouth. "Oh my god," you whispered. "It's... it's not just a buzzcut, it's—"

"Platinum," Joe filled in, taking a sip of his shake. "Figured why not go all out?"

Your eyes roamed over his features, now so sharply defined without the hair to frame them. His strong jaw, the crinkles of his eyes, his stubbled chin—it all looked more pronounced. And you had to admit, incredibly sexy. The shock was giving way to something else, something warm and fluttery in your stomach.

He watched you, his gaze expectant, a smirk playing on his lips. You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch his head. The warmth of his skin was unexpected, and you couldn't help but let out a small giggle. He leaned into your touch, his eyes crinkling as you traced your fingers over the smooth surface.

"I can't decide if..." you said, trying to find the words. "If you look like you should be in a shitty boy band or if you're channeling Slim Shady."

Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Slim Shiesty," he quipped, his voice low and playful. "You know you love it." He teased, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter as he took your hands in his.

You felt your smile widen, your heart racing. You didn't know if it was the caffeine from the coffee or the sudden realization that you were incredibly turned on by his new look. The way his muscles flexed as he held onto your hands, the glint in his eye as he watched your reaction—it was all too much.

Your eyes drifted to his lips, and you leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was equal parts surprise and desire. His grip tightened, and you felt him pull you closer, the coldness of the countertop pressing into your back as his body molded against yours. His free hand roamed your waist, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above your hip bone.

"So you like it?" Joe murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned into you. You felt the heat from his skin and the tension coiling in your belly. You couldn't believe it, but you were insatiably attracted to this new look for him.

"Yeah," you breathed into Joe's ear, your voice silky with want, "I guess so."

Your hands slid down his body, tracing the planes of his chest before coming to rest at the waistband of his sweatpants. He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching. The kitchen light crafted an artificial halo as it bounced off the dye in his hair, and you found yourself craving more of him.

Without breaking the kiss, you tugged at his waistband, and Joe's laughter turned into a groan as your hand found its way to his cock. You wrapped your cold fingers around it, feeling it twitch and thicken in your palm. He pulled away, his eyes dark with hunger. "What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, his voice gruff.

You smirked up at him, your eyes full of mischief. "I'm just... indulging the new look," you said, your voice a seductive purr. You sank to your knees, your eyes glued to his. The kitchen floor was cold, but you barely noticed as the heat between the two of you grew.

Joe's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his cock twitching in his pants. "Babe," he said, his voice thick with lust. But you were already untying the drawstring, his dick springing free, hard and eager.

You took him in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you tasted his surprise and arousal. He was an intoxicating mixture of salty and sweet, and you moaned around him, your tongue swirling and teasing the head. The kitchen light danced over your dark skin and cast shadows across Joe's face as he watched you.

He tangled his fingers in your braids, gently guiding your movements, setting a pace that made him groan. Your eyes flew open to meet his, the blue of his irises burning into the brown of yours. Your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. The taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of the kitchen's citrus cleaner.

Joe's hips involuntarily bucked forward, pushing him further into your throat, and you gagged lightly, your eyes watering. He stilled, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper from the effort of holding back just long enough to indulge in the pleasure you were giving him.

You nodded, your mouth still full. You pulled back with a pop, your lips glistening with the sinful mixture of his precum and your gloss, your eyes gleaming. "Yeah," you murmured, licking your lips. "Perfect."

Joe's gaze was intense, his eyes locked on yours as you took him in your mouth again. He groaned, his grip on your braids tightening, his thumb caressing your cheek. The sound was like a symphony to your ears, the sight of him lost in pleasure pushing your own desire to new heights. You bobbed your head, your rhythm increasing, your tongue flicking and dancing around his shaft.

You felt a rush of power, the kind that only came from knowing you could make him lose control. His breath grew ragged, his hips jerking in time with your movements as his stomach tensed. One of his hands gripped the counter as he cursed under his breath. You could feel his muscles tensing, his legs quivering slightly, and you smiled at the sight of him slowly losing it.

The sound of your mouth moving over him was the only noise in the kitchen, the slick sounds of your saliva mingling with his groans. You reached up and took hold of the base of his cock, your mouth releasing him as your thumb danced over his angry tip. He swore, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to come.

"Babe," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep doing that..."

But you were beyond listening. The thrill of his impending orgasm was intoxicating, and you were determined to push him over the edge. You bit your bottom lip with a smirk, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend throw his head back. With a surge of boldness, you kept your seductive gaze on his face as you licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting him fully.

Joe's knees buckled slightly, now reaching to grip the counter with both hands to keep steady. "Yeah, suck this cock, beautiful," he hissed, his voice a desperate plea.

At the sound of his command, you didn't relent. With a wicked smile, you took him back into your mouth, your other hand now stroking the velvety skin of his balls. The sensation was too much for him, and he let out a strangled groan, his entire body seizing. You felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth, and you swallowed, your brown eyes round as they stared up into his.

You pulled back, your chin glistening with spit, your expression smug. Joe looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with passion. "You're crazy," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "But I fucking love it."

He helped you stand to your feet, your eyes still locked. The kitchen light cast shadows over his bald head, giving him a mysterious allure that had your heart racing. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue tracing your teeth and tangled with yours, sharing the taste of himself. It was a kiss filled with passion and a hint of appreciation, one that left your knees weak.

You broke the kiss with a giggle, wiping at your mouth. "You know, I think the bleached look really suits you, Slim," you said, your voice filled with a teasing lilt.

Joe's eyes lit up, his smirk growing as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Yeah? Maybe I should keep it then."

You playfully slapped his chest. "You better not, I didn’t say all that," you said, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "But for now, I can deal with it."

The two of you pulled apart, and Joe took a step back, looking down at you with a grin. "Deal with it, huh?" he challenged. "We'll see about that." His words were met with a confused look from you, but before you could ask him what he meant, he took a swing of his protein shake, set it down, scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder.

"Joe!" you squealed, laughter bubbling up from your chest as he carried you out of the kitchen. You smacked his ass playfully, but the truth was, you were thrilled. The excitement of the unexpected was like a drug, and you were eager for more.

[hisfavegirl]

Betrayal And Grief - Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

summary : The worst thing happened to your marriage with Aemond, you can't see him like before. You keep distancing yourself from Aemond and give yourself enough time to forgive him.

Warning : mention of blood, jaehaerys death, mention of miscarriage.

You stepped into Alicent’s chambers, the soft glow of the fire casting warm shadows across the room. She sat gracefully by the hearth, her posture poised but visibly tense. The teacup in her hands trembled ever so slightly as she raised it to her lips. Her eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, shifted to meet yours the moment you entered.

“Come in, my dear,” Alicent said softly, setting the teacup down on the small table beside her. She gestured to the chair across from her. “Sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Her tone was gentle but firm, and you could sense the weight of the conversation that was about to follow. You stepped forward, smoothing the folds of your gown before sitting down. Your heart felt uneasy, unsure of what she could want from you at this hour.

For a moment, there was only the quiet crackle of the fire. Alicent studied you, her eyes searching yours as if she were looking for something — doubt, fear, or perhaps resolve. Then, she spoke.

“You are aware of the events unfolding around us,” she began, her voice low but steady. “With Viserys gone, the realm is more divided than ever. Sides have been chosen, and war… war is inevitable.” Her gaze didn’t waver as she leaned forward, her expression serious but motherly. “You are no longer just my daughter-in-law. You are part of this family, and your role will be crucial in the days to come.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. You could feel the weight of expectation being placed upon your shoulders. You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

Alicent reached for your hand, clasping it firmly in hers. “You have done well, my dear. Supporting Aemond, standing by him — it has not gone unnoticed.” Her eyes softened slightly, but her grip remained strong. “But there is more to be done. You must remain vigilant, for enemies are everywhere. Our family is under threat, and I will do whatever it takes to protect it… to protect you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew she meant every word. Alicent Hightower had always been a protective mother, but tonight, she seemed more determined than ever.

“Do you understand?” she asked, her eyes piercing into yours like daggers.

You nodded slowly, fully understanding the weight of Alicent’s words. She was not merely asking for your loyalty — she was commanding it. Her gaze bore into yours with unwavering resolve, a quiet but undeniable assertion of power.

“Good,” Alicent said firmly, releasing your hand but letting her fingers linger for just a moment longer. Her eyes softened with something akin to affection. “You are wise beyond your years, my dear. Aemond needs someone like you by his side. This family needs you.”

Her words lingered in the air like a silent vow. You knew that from this moment forward, there would be no turning back. To remain by Aemond’s side was to anchor yourself to the cause of the Greens, to Alicent, to Aegon’s claim to the throne.

“You are one of us now,” Alicent continued, her voice quieter but no less firm. “No matter what happens, you must not waver. If he falls, you help him rise. If he falters, you steady him. And if anyone threatens him” — her eyes darkened, sharp as a blade’s edge — “you crush them.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but from the weight of responsibility that had now been placed upon you. This was not just a marriage anymore. It was a bond forged in duty, in politics, and in war.

“I trust you to do this, for him, for our family,” she said, her gaze softening only slightly as she raised her teacup once more. “Now, go. Rest while you can. The days ahead will not be kind to any of us.”

You rose from your seat, your legs feeling heavier than before. As you walked to the door, you glanced back at her. Alicent was already gazing into the fire, her face a mask of quiet contemplation. For a moment, she looked older, wearier, like a queen burdened with too many crowns.

With a deep breath, you left the room, knowing that your place had been set. No matter what lay ahead, you would remain at Aemond’s side. Whatever happened to him, happened to you. And whatever fate befell this family, you would be bound to it — for better or for worse.

You pressed a hand to your temple, feeling the dull throb of pain growing stronger with each step. Your other hand rested on your stomach as a wave of nausea washed over you, sharp and sudden. The weight of the day’s stress, worry, and hunger had finally caught up with you.

Reaching the door to your chambers, you leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath. The world around you tilted slightly, making it harder to focus. You hadn’t eaten since the morning, too consumed with thoughts of Aemond’s journey and the unease lingering in the Red Keep.

Pushing the door open, you stumbled inside, closing it behind you. The familiar warmth of the chamber greeted you, but it felt stifling now. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers digging lightly into the fabric as you tried to ground yourself. The pounding in your head grew worse, and the nausea refused to subside.

“Foolish,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head slowly. You knew better than to neglect your health, especially now. With a hand on your stomach, you reminded yourself that it wasn’t just you who needed care — your unborn child depended on you too.

Taking slow, deep breaths, you reached for the small bell on the bedside table, ringing it softly. Moments later, a servant entered, bowing low before you.

“Bring me something to eat,” you said, your voice softer than usual but still firm. “And water. Quickly, please.”

The servant nodded and disappeared without a word. You leaned back against the headboard, closing your eyes. The weight in your chest felt heavier than before. It wasn’t just hunger, exhaustion, or illness. It was the growing dread that had settled there ever since Aemond left for Storm’s End.

You curled your arms around yourself, seeking the comfort you wished he could provide. But he wasn’t here. And until he returned, you would have to be strong — for him, for yourself, and for the life growing within you.

You placed a hand gently over your stomach, your fingers tracing small, absentminded circles. The memory of that night with your grandfather lingered in your mind like a ghost you couldn’t banish. You had sat by his bedside, his breath shallow, his words broken and distant. You had felt the weight of it — the urgency, the finality.

You had wanted to tell him.

The words had been on the tip of your tongue. “I’m with child, Grandsire.” Simple words, but ones that carried so much meaning. You had imagined the way his tired eyes would light up, perhaps with pride, perhaps with hope. He might have smiled, weak as he was, and spoken words of encouragement. Maybe he would have squeezed your hand just a little tighter.

But instead, he had spoken of Aegon, of thrones and crowns, his mind consumed by the weight of kingship. His last breaths had been spent on matters of duty and legacy, not family. Your moment had slipped away like sand through your fingers, and then… he was gone.

You clenched your jaw, eyes stinging with unshed tears. It had been days since then, and still, you hadn’t told anyone. Not Aemond. Not Alicent. Not even Helaena, though you had been close to telling her earlier that day. Every time the words came to you, they felt too fragile to speak aloud, as though saying them would make them too real.

Aemond deserved to know. But you didn’t want to tell him like this — not when he was already burdened with war, duty, and his mission to Storm’s End. You had wanted to tell him when you were both at peace, somewhere quiet, where he could place his hand over your stomach and feel the life growing there.

But peace was nowhere to be found now.

You sighed deeply, tilting your head back against the headboard. Your fingers pressed lightly against your stomach again, seeking reassurance. “It’s just us now,” you whispered softly, barely audible, as though speaking to your unborn child. “But we’ll be all right. We have to be.”

The servant returned soon after, carrying a tray of food and water. You forced yourself to eat, even when every bite felt heavy on your tongue. You ate because you had to. For you. For the child. For the future you still believed in — even if it was slipping further from your grasp.

Aegon’s arrival was as loud and unceremonious as always. The doors to Helaena’s chambers creaked open, and he strode in without warning, the faint scent of wine following him like an unwanted shadow. His eyes, half-lidded but alert, scanned the room with the impatience of a man looking for something he’d misplaced.

“Where’s Jaehaerys?” he asked abruptly, his gaze flickering over you before settling on Helaena. His tone was sharp, not unkind but certainly not gentle.

Helaena barely glanced up from where she sat, weaving a small thread of silk between her fingers. Her voice was distant, as though she were speaking from a dream. “He’s in the library,” she murmured softly, her eyes focused on her hands. “With the maester.”

Aegon exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. You watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes darted around the room as if searching for something to ground him.

“Did something happen?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. It wasn’t often that Aegon looked this unsettled — distracted, yes, but not like this.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, he hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line. “The council wants him present at court,” he said at last, rubbing the back of his neck. “They say it’s time for him to be seen.” His eyes shifted to Helaena, and something unreadable passed between them. “They’re saying too much, as always.”

Helaena’s hands stilled for a moment. Her gaze finally lifted, her soft lilac eyes meeting Aegon’s with a look of quiet understanding — and perhaps a little sadness. “He’s just a boy,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their weaving. “They’ll put too much on his shoulders.”

Aegon didn’t respond. His eyes flickered to Maelor and Jaehaera, playing together on the floor. You watched as his gaze softened just slightly, a glimpse of the man he tried so hard to bury.

“Then I’ll carry it for him,” he said quietly, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.

His eyes lingered on his children for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and left, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

Silence lingered in the room, broken only by the playful giggles of Maelor and Jaehaera. You glanced at Helaena, who was once again lost in her weaving, her lips moving faintly as if whispering to herself.

“Blood and cheese,” she said softly, her voice distant, dreamlike. Her fingers moved in delicate, repetitive patterns. “Blood and cheese… a debt paid in blood.”

A chill ran down your spine at her words. You leaned forward, your heart tightening. “Helaena… what do you mean by that?” you asked cautiously, your voice soft but firm.

Her eyes didn’t meet yours. She blinked slowly, her fingers still weaving, as if she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud. “A debt must be paid,” she whispered, almost like a lullaby. “A son for a son.”

Your blood ran cold. You glanced at Maelor, still playing with his wooden dragon, his soft giggles filling the air. Your chest tightened with unease, a sense of dread creeping into the edges of your mind.

What debt? Whose blood?

You glanced toward the door, half-expecting Aegon to return, half-wishing Aemond were here instead. But you were alone with Helaena’s words, and no amount of warmth from the hearth could chase away the sudden chill that settled over you.

The familiar growl of Vhagar outside the Keep had only moments ago alerted you to his return, but now that he was here, the unease in the air was palpable. You stood frozen for a moment, staring at Aemond as he entered the room, his eyes quickly darting away from yours. His usual confidence seemed gone, replaced with something you couldn’t quite place. The air between you seemed thick with unspoken tension, and it made your heart beat faster in your chest.

Aemond stood still just inside the doorway, his long strides slowing as he approached you. His face was slightly bruised, and there was a tense set to his jaw that you had never seen before. His usual assuredness had been replaced by an almost fragile uncertainty. You couldn’t help but wonder—what had happened to him out there?

You took a small step forward, your voice barely above a whisper, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Aemond… What happened?” You reached out, wanting to close the distance between you, but his eyes flickered nervously to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, his tone sharp but forced. His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of discomfort. “There was nothing. Nothing to worry about.”

But you could see it. The way his shoulders were tense, the slight tremor in his hand as he clasped it to his side, and the nervous glance he kept sending toward the door. You knew him well enough by now to sense when something was wrong. This wasn’t the Aemond you knew—the confident, fearless warrior who had always met challenges head-on. This was someone else.

“Don’t lie to me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the fear you were trying to keep at bay. “You’re not fine. What happened? Please, tell me.”

Aemond’s eyes darted briefly to yours, and you saw a flicker of something deep within them—a quiet, unspoken fear. But before he could respond, he turned his face away again, hiding it from you.

“I… I can’t,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “Not yet.”

You felt your heart sink. The words hung heavily in the room, and the silence stretched between you both. It was like there was a wall, something invisible, yet so painfully real, keeping him from you. Keeping him from sharing whatever it was that had rattled him.

But then, as if to push away your concern, he took a step forward, his eyes once again not meeting yours. “I need to… take care of something,” he said quickly, his words clipped. “I’ll be back later.”

Before you could stop him, he was already walking toward the door, his gait stiff and uneven. You called out to him, but he didn’t look back. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left standing alone, your hand still half-raised, unable to reach him.

The dread that had settled over you earlier was now a tight knot in your chest. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong, and Aemond was hiding it from you.

You felt helpless, watching him walk away without understanding what had shaken him so. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t just let him go. Not like this. You needed to know what was happening. You needed to understand what had caused the cracks in his armor.

And you would find out, even if you had to break down the walls he was building between you.

You stood frozen in front of the door, the sounds of raised voices drifting through the cracks. Alicent’s and Otto’s voices were loud and sharp, calling Aemond’s name with frustration and anger. The air around you seemed to thicken with tension, and confusion gripped your chest. What had Aemond done? Why were they so upset? You felt your heart race as you listened, your mind trying to piece together the situation.

You had seen Aemond return, but he hadn’t shared anything with you—nothing about what had transpired. His odd behavior, his refusal to meet your eyes, and now this… you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. You stepped closer to the door, your hand trembling as you touched the cool wood. You could hear the sharp tones of Alicent, her voice cracking slightly as she demanded something from Aemond. Otto’s voice was more controlled but laced with authority, as always.

“Aemond, this is madness! You must face the consequences of your actions!” Alicent snapped, her voice filled with tension.

Otto’s voice followed, cold and calculating as always. “You’ve put us all at risk. Explain yourself now, Aemond.”

Your stomach twisted with unease, the vague words you overheard doing nothing to quell the rising sense of dread. What had Aemond done? Why had it caused such a reaction? And why hadn’t he told you? You wanted to barge in, demand answers, but fear and confusion held you back.

From what you could gather, the situation was worse than you thought. Whatever Aemond had done, it had angered not only his mother and grandfather but had shaken the very foundations of your alliance. You had no idea what had happened, but the anger in their voices was undeniable.

Slowly, you stepped back, trying to steady your breath as you mulled over your next move. Should you go in? Should you wait for him to explain? You couldn’t ignore it any longer—you needed answers. The thought of confronting him was terrifying, but you could no longer stand in the dark.

Your mind raced with possibilities. Had Aemond done something reckless? Had he made a decision that jeopardized everything?

You turned around slowly at the sound of Alicent’s voice, her tone softer than the heated words you’d overheard earlier. The weight of her gaze was hard to ignore as she stood there, her expression a mixture of concern and something unreadable. You nodded, still troubled by the fragments of conversation you’d heard in the hall, and followed her as she led you toward her chambers.

As you entered the room, you noticed the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, the air thick with a sense of urgency. Alicent gestured for you to sit, and you did so, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire.

Alicent took a deep breath before speaking, her voice calm but firm. “I know you’ve overheard some things just now. Aemond has made a decision… one that has upset many within our family, including your grandfather.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “But I need you to understand, there is more at play than what you may have heard. This is not just about what Aemond has done—it is about the future of this family, and the alliances we need to hold onto.”

You felt your stomach twist in confusion and worry. “What do you mean, mother?” You couldn’t help but ask. “What has he done that has caused so much turmoil?”

Alicent’s eyes softened as she looked at you, her expression laden with concern. “Aemond has taken a drastic step, one that could have severe consequences for us all. I won’t go into the specifics just yet, but you need to be prepared for what comes next. There may be some difficult choices ahead.”

Her words hung in the air, each one more ominous than the last. You couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Aemond had done, it was far more than a simple mistake or an act of defiance—it was a decision that had shaken the very core of everything.

“Is he… in danger?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alicent met your gaze, her expression unwavering. “In a way, yes. But the greater danger is what this could mean for all of us. Aemond’s actions may have set in motion a series of events that we cannot undo, and we all need to be ready for what comes next.”

Your heart raced, your mind struggling to keep up with the weight of her words. You had hoped for something simpler, some explanation to ease your growing unease, but Alicent’s warning only deepened the mystery.

“What should I do?” you finally asked, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “How can I help him… or protect him?”

Alicent looked at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours. “Be there for him, as his wife. Stand by him, even when things become difficult. There will be those who will try to use his actions against us, and we cannot afford to lose any ground. You are more important in this than you may realize.”

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb her words. The future seemed uncertain, and you had no clear path forward, but one thing was certain: you were bound to Aemond, and his choices would shape not just his future, but yours as well. And whatever was coming next, you would face it together.

You stood at the doorway, watching Aemond as he sat by the fire, his back turned to you. His presence was both comforting and distant, a paradox you couldn’t quite understand. The crackling of the flames seemed to echo the tension in the room, and the silence between you both felt like a wall.

You took a step closer, your voice tentative as you called his name, “Aemond.”

For a moment, there was no response. He didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. The air in the room grew thick with unsaid words, and you felt an unease settle in your chest.

You took another step, your heart heavy. “Aemond, please, talk to me.”

Still, he remained silent, the only sound being the fire’s soft crackle. It was as if he was lost in his own thoughts, far away from you, yet his presence was undeniable, filling the space around you.

You approached him cautiously, unsure of how to bridge the distance that had grown between you. Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on his shoulder. His body stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. You waited, hoping he would turn to face you, hoping that this silence wasn’t an indication of something deeper.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he shifted slightly, his voice low and rough as he spoke without meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of them. “Like what?” you whispered, your heart aching as you crouched down to be closer to him.

Aemond’s gaze remained on the flames, but there was something in his posture that spoke volumes—a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “Weak,” he muttered, almost as if the word tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’ve made choices… choices that have consequences, and now I fear I’ve endangered everything. I fear I’ve failed you.”

You could see the struggle in him, the turmoil that had taken root deep within. You knew Aemond as a man of strength, but in this moment, he seemed unsure, lost even. It broke something in you to see him like this—vulnerable, torn apart by the weight of his own decisions.

You knelt beside him, your fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. “Aemond,” you said softly, “You have never failed me. Whatever it is that’s weighing on you, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever.”

His eyes finally met yours, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of something—hope, or perhaps just the smallest bit of relief. He didn’t speak, but his gaze held the words he couldn’t say.

You reached out, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Whatever you’re going through, I’m with you. Always.”

Aemond let out a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest over yours. “I don’t deserve your loyalty,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his. “You do. You always will.”

The room was silent again, but this time, it felt different. There was no more distance between you, no more walls. Whatever came next, you would face it together, united in the quiet strength of your love.

You sat down beside him, your fingers gently wrapping around his hand, offering the warmth and reassurance that you hoped would make him feel safe enough to speak. His hand was cold, tense under your touch, but you refused to pull away, your gaze steady on him as you quietly urged, “Aemond… please, tell me what happened.”

There was a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something darker that made his usual confident demeanor seem distant. He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair, clearly torn between saying too much or not enough.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he finally spoke, his voice strained. “Things I’ve done, things I… should have stopped. It’s not just about what happened in the dragonpit or the decisions I made with the others. It’s everything. It’s what I’ve become—what I’m becoming."

You watched him, trying to piece together the pain behind his words, the weight of regret that he carried in silence. His words felt like a riddle, one you were desperately trying to understand.

“Aemond, please,” you urged, squeezing his hand once more. “I need to know. Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

His gaze flickered to the floor, as if the weight of his own secrets was too much for him to bear. He looked so fragile in that moment, not the proud, powerful man you had known. He seemed… lost.

“You know that I’ve always fought for what I believed in,” Aemond started, his voice low, almost a whisper. “For the throne, for my family, for our future. But in the process, I’ve made enemies. I’ve hurt people. I’ve… gone too far.”

Your heart sank as he continued, the unspoken pain bleeding through every word. He was struggling, fighting with himself more than anyone else, and the guilt he carried was a heavy burden.

“I did things that I can’t take back,” Aemond continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And now, I fear I’ve pushed everyone away. Even you.”

His words hit you like a blow, but you quickly pushed the hurt aside, squeezing his hand more firmly. “Aemond, you haven’t pushed me away. No matter what you’ve done, you’re still the man I married. The man I love.”

He shook his head, his frustration mounting as he stared at the fire. “You don’t understand. I hurt people—people who didn’t deserve it. I hurt you, too, by being so caught up in my ambition, in all of this. I never wanted you to feel alone in this.”

His voice softened, and for a moment, you saw the man he used to be—the man who had never wanted to show weakness. But the cracks in his armor were evident now.

You gently cupped his cheek, turning his face toward you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Aemond, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll fix this together. Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. What matters is now. What matters is that we have each other.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, as if your words were a lifeline he had been waiting for. When he opened them again, there was something in his gaze—something that hinted at both relief and uncertainty.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered.

“You do,” you replied, your voice steady and strong. “You always have.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. But in the silence, there was an understanding—a shared knowledge that whatever storm was coming, you would face it side by side.

Aemond’s words hung heavily in the air, and you felt the weight of them like a crushing blow. Your hand, which had been holding his so tightly, now fell limply to your side as you tried to process the horror he had just revealed.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I wanted to scare him, to show him that I was in control, but Vhagar… she… she wasn’t under my command. I didn’t know she would do that. I didn’t know…” His words trailed off, his gaze distant, as if he were still lost in that moment, replaying it over and over again in his mind.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to breathe, the gravity of his confession almost suffocating. Luke… your brother… dead at his hands. The pain, the anger, and the confusion tangled together inside you, making it hard to think clearly.

“Aemond…” you whispered, your voice shaky, your body trembling as you tried to gather your thoughts. “You… you killed him? You killed Luke?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with an indescribable sorrow, but there was nothing that could undo what had been done. He had taken your brother’s life. The brother you had sworn to protect. The brother you had known and loved.

“I never wanted to kill him,” Aemond continued, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I swear, I never wanted that. But in that moment, I lost control. And when I saw what happened, I couldn’t—couldn’t believe what I had done.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, though he tried to hold them back, clearly struggling with the enormity of his actions. You could see the agony on his face, but it didn’t change the fact that he had taken Luke’s life. No amount of regret could bring him back.

You stood up slowly, distancing yourself from him, the raw emotion flooding through you. Anger, hurt, confusion… It all felt like too much to handle.

“Aemond… I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you even begin to process this? How could you look at him the same way again, knowing what he had done?

He stood as well, stepping closer to you, his hands outstretched, pleading for you to understand. “Please… don’t hate me. I know I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I need you to know it was a mistake. It was never meant to happen.”

You took a shaky step back, your chest tight with emotion. “A mistake? You killed my brother, Aemond. My little brother. And you… you’re asking me not to hate you?” Your voice cracked as the anger began to rise, the tears threatening to spill.

Aemond winced at your words, his own pain mirrored in the depths of his eyes. He seemed to realize the gravity of what he had said, how hollow it must sound to you. But no matter what he said now, the damage had been done. The bond between you and him, the love that had once seemed unshakable, now felt fragile, splintered.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I know. I can’t undo it. I can’t change what happened. But I would do anything to bring him back. I would give my own life if it meant undoing what I’ve done.”

You shook your head, the tears finally starting to spill down your face. “It’s too late for that, Aemond. It’s too late.”

You turned away from him, the room feeling like it was closing in around you. Everything you thought you knew about him, about your marriage, had shattered in an instant. How could you move forward with him now? How could you ever forgive him for taking your brother’s life?

Aemond’s footsteps were slow, hesitant, as he followed you. “Please,” he said again, his voice breaking, “please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.”

You stopped, your back still to him, and your voice trembled as you spoke. “I need time, Aemond. I don’t know if I can stay with you after what you’ve done.”

The silence between you two was suffocating, the weight of his confession heavy on your heart.

Two days had passed since Aemond’s confession, and the weight of his words still lingered in your mind like an unshakable shadow. The anger had started to subside, but the hurt remained—deep and raw. You hadn’t seen him since then, the silence between you both stretching longer than you ever thought possible.

You had taken refuge in Helaena’s room, seeking solace in the presence of someone who understood, even though her own heart carried its own burdens. She had been patient with you, offering quiet comfort and the space you needed. You didn’t blame her. She, too, had suffered in silence, bound by love and loyalty to her family, to her brother, and to you.

Lying beside her now, you stared at the ceiling, the flickering shadows of candlelight casting fleeting shapes on the walls. You didn’t know how to feel—how to move forward. You had spent these two days in a daze, trying to process everything, trying to find some semblance of clarity.

“He will wait for you,” Helaena whispered, her voice soft and gentle, as though sensing the turmoil inside you. She reached out, placing her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Helaena,” you murmured, your voice trembling as the uncertainty washed over you. “How do I forgive something like this? How do I go back to the way we were?”

Helaena squeezed your hand, her eyes full of empathy. “Forgiveness… it isn’t easy. Especially when it’s someone you love. But you don’t have to make any decisions right now. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“But… he killed my brother,” you whispered, the weight of those words threatening to crush you all over again. “How can I ever forget that?”

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she gently brushed a lock of hair away from your face. “I don’t think anyone could forget something like that. But you have to decide what’s worth holding onto. Whether your love for him is enough to move past the pain. It will take time, and maybe that’s what you need more than anything right now. Time.”

You let out a shaky breath, the tears threatening to fall again. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to look at him the same way.”

Helaena’s voice was a quiet comfort. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. One step at a time, sister. That’s all anyone can do.”

You nodded, feeling a small measure of relief at her words, though the ache in your chest remained. It was as if a part of you had been torn away, and you weren’t sure how to put it back together. You couldn’t just erase what Aemond had done, but the love you had once shared… could it still be salvaged?

“Take your time,” Helaena said softly, her gaze reassuring. “Whatever you decide, we’ll be here for you.”

And so you lay there, the quiet of the room enveloping you, giving you the space to breathe. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in days, you allowed yourself the freedom to simply be. To let time heal, even if only just a little.

You walked toward the children’s room, your mind still clouded with thoughts of the past few days. The weight of the situation with Aemond and the events that had transpired had left you with a heavy heart, but in that moment, the thought of the children waiting for you brought a small sense of peace.

When you entered the room, you saw them—Jaehaera, Jaeharys, and Maelor—already tucked in their beds, their little eyes bright with anticipation. They had been eagerly waiting for you, hoping you would keep the promise you made to tell them a bedtime story.

You smiled softly at the sight, your heart warmed by their innocence. Despite everything that had been happening, this moment was simple and pure, a welcome distraction from the complexities of the world outside.

“You’re all ready for the story, hm?” you asked gently, your voice carrying a hint of warmth as you approached them.

Jaehaera’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, please! You promised!”

You nodded, settling into the chair next to their beds, adjusting your gown slightly before opening the book you had brought with you. It was a favorite of yours—a tale of adventure, magic, and distant lands. You began to read softly, the familiar words bringing comfort not only to the children but to you as well.

As you read, you could see their expressions shift between concentration and wonder. Maelor, ever the youngest, lay nestled under his blankets, his small hands clutching his favorite stuffed animal. Jaehaera, sitting up slightly, hung on every word, while Jaeharys was already half asleep, though still content to listen to the story.

The soft rhythm of your voice, the turning of the pages, and the gentle breathing of the children created a calming atmosphere. For a while, everything felt right again. It was a fleeting moment of peace in the chaos, one you didn’t want to let go of.

As you finished the story, you whispered softly, “And the adventurers lived happily ever after, surrounded by love and laughter.”

The children smiled, their eyes drooping as the quiet warmth of the room settled in. You kissed each of their foreheads gently, whispering a goodnight as you rose from your seat. Your heart felt lighter, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself a moment of solace.

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze in place, the cold touch of fear creeping up your spine. In the dim light of the room, two figures stepped forward—one large, looming, and the other smaller, their features obscured by the darkness. They moved swiftly, silently, and before you could react, a blade was pressed sharply to your throat.

The tension in the air was suffocating. You could feel the cold steel of the dagger against your skin, and you instinctively swallowed, your breath shallow. You didn’t recognize them, but the cold, calculating look in their eyes made it clear they were not here for a friendly chat.

“Who… who are you?” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

The larger figure stepped closer, the knife digging just enough to make you wince. “Quiet,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “Make a sound, and we’ll finish what we’ve started.”

The smaller figure, still partially hidden in the shadows, moved toward you, keeping an eye on the larger one. There was something about their posture—something unsettling—that made your instincts scream. It wasn’t just the blade at your throat. It was the coldness in their eyes, the precision of their movements.

You fought the urge to panic, focusing instead on keeping calm. You knew if you could just find a way to stall, maybe you could figure out their intentions.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, but you forced yourself to stand tall despite the fear gnawing at you. “Why are you here?”

The smaller figure smirked darkly, and the larger one pressed the blade closer, almost daring you to speak again. “We’re not here for pleasantries,” the man said, his grip tightening on the dagger’s hilt. “Just do as we say, and you’ll live to see another day.”

The uncertainty gnawed at you. Were they after you? Or were they just here to send a message? Either way, you knew your next move was crucial. Every muscle in your body tensed, and your mind raced, trying to calculate how to get out of this alive, to protect yourself and those you loved.

And yet, as you stood there, the weight of the danger pressing in, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a random attack. Someone had orchestrated this. But who? And why you? why the children?

The silence was deafening as you waited for the next move, your mind working fast, your body still as stone, every sense heightened.

The sharp pain in your abdomen took you by surprise, but it was nothing compared to the horror of the scene unfolding before you. Blood soaked your clothes, your hands trembling as you tried to hold onto consciousness. The blade had pierced deep, and you could feel the life draining from you as you looked at the two men standing in front of you. Their cold eyes were fixed on you, one with a menacing calm, the other with a twisted sense of purpose.

"Blood must be paid with blood. A son for a son," the larger of the two growled, his voice filled with cruel finality as his gaze turned to the children in the corner.

Before you could react, the gruesome reality of their words began to play out. The man swung his blade with a brutal efficiency, and in the blink of an eye, Jaehaerys-Helaena's son— was decapitated. The lifeless body fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the blood pooling around him.

You could hardly comprehend what had just happened. Jaehaerys, your nephew, was gone.

Your vision blurred, and a scream of horror was caught in your throat as you saw Maelor and Jaehaera, Helena's other children, forced to watch the brutal execution of their brother.

Tears filled your eyes as your heart twisted with grief and fear for them. But in that moment, you were helpless. The pain from your wound was overwhelming, but the pain of witnessing this cruelty, of not being able to protect these children, was unbearable.

But before you could do anything, the world around you began to spin. The blood loss, the anguish, the terror-it all became too much.

You tried to call out to Helena's children, to make sure they were safe, but your body refused to cooperate.

Your vision was blurry, the world around you spinning in a haze of pain and grief. The coppery scent of blood was thick in the air. Your breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, every inhale sharp with pain from the wound in your abdomen.

Faintly, you heard it—her voice. Alicent’s scream echoed through the chamber like a shattering bell. It was filled with so much anguish that, for a moment, you almost believed it wasn’t real. But it was. You blinked slowly, your eyes moving toward the doorway, and there she was. Her face was pale as she froze at the sight before her. Her gaze shifted from you to the small, lifeless form of Jaehaerys on the ground. Her eyes widened with shock, horror twisting her features.

“No… no, no, no!” she gasped, rushing forward, her skirts gathered in her hands as she stumbled toward you. “Guards! Guards!” she screamed, her voice cracking as her panic grew. “Aemond! Aemond, come quickly!” Her voice broke as she cried out, and her footsteps quickened.

You felt her hands on your face—warm, desperate, trembling. She knelt beside you, cradling your face with care as if that alone could keep you from slipping away. Her green eyes darted over your body, taking in the bloodstained fabric, the growing red pool beneath you, and the pallor of your skin. Tears welled in her eyes as her voice softened into something broken.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks, smudging blood across your skin. “Stay with me, child. Help is coming. You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me, please.” Her breath hitched with every word, her voice breaking with every plea.

Your gaze shifted, slow and heavy like your eyelids were weighed down by lead. At the far end of the room, you saw them—Jaehaera and Maelor, curled into each other, trembling in fear. They stared wide-eyed at their brother’s body, unable to look away, their small faces frozen in silent terror. Jaehaera clutched Maelor tightly, her little hands gripping him like he was her only lifeline. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her lips quivering as she tried to stay quiet, but soft whimpers escaped her.

Alicent followed your gaze, her face crumpling further as she saw her grandchildren huddled together in the corner. “Oh, sweet children,” she breathed, her voice shattering with grief. But she didn’t leave you. Her fingers pressed against the wound on your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, her eyes darting between you and the children.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, fast and urgent. The guards were coming. You barely registered the shouts, barely felt Alicent’s hands on you anymore. The edges of your vision darkened, sounds muffled as though you were underwater. You wanted to say something—to comfort Alicent, to tell Jaehaera and Maelor that it would be alright—but your lips wouldn’t move.

The pain dulled. Everything dulled. All you could hear was Alicent’s voice calling your name over and over again, her voice cracking with desperation. “Stay with me,” she begged. “Please, don’t leave me too.”

But her voice was growing distant. Her words were like echoes down a long corridor. You blinked slowly, and the world around you grew darker, colder, quieter.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the halls, sharp and urgent. Aemond’s figure appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze immediately landing on you. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he stood frozen—his one good eye wide with disbelief.

He took it all in at once. The blood-stained floor. Your pale, unmoving body cradled in Alicent’s lap. The hilt of the dagger still buried in your stomach. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, and for a moment, it seemed like the world around him had ceased to exist.

“No,” he muttered, his voice raw and hollow. “No.”

His feet moved before he realized it. Each step was heavy, each heartbeat louder than the last. His face was twisted in anguish, his jaw tight as he dropped to his knees beside you. Alicent’s tear-streaked face lifted to look at him, her eyes red and filled with grief. “Aemond,” she choked, her voice hoarse. “She—she’s losing too much blood. I—I tried—”

“Move,” he said, his tone sharp but trembling with barely restrained panic. Alicent hesitated for a heartbeat, but she nodded and released you into his arms. Aemond gently, but firmly, pulled you into him, cradling you against his chest. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure where to touch without causing you more pain. His gaze settled on the dagger still lodged in your abdomen, his breath hitching as if it physically hurt him to see it.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice cracking as he leaned close to your face. His silver hair fell forward, brushing against your cheek like a soft caress. “Look at me, my love. Open your eyes.” His voice grew more desperate with every word. “Please. Please, just look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered, but they didn’t open fully. The weight of everything—the pain, the blood loss, the exhaustion—was too much. Your breathing was shallow, and you could barely make out his face through the haze clouding your vision. But you knew it was him. You knew his voice, his warmth, his presence.

“Aemond…” you whispered weakly, barely more than a breath.

“I’m here,” he said quickly, his fingers gently cupping your face, tilting it so you could see him better. His eye was wild with fear, glistening as if tears threatened to fall. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?” He glanced at the wound and clenched his jaw so tightly it seemed it might break. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

A shuddering breath escaped you, your lips parting as if you wanted to say something more, but only silence came. Your eyes slowly, painfully, began to close.

“No,” he growled, his voice breaking as he shook you lightly. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Don’t you dare leave me.” His breathing grew faster, more erratic. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you!” His voice cracked with raw, unfiltered anguish, and he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eye tightly. “Stay with me. Please, stay with me,” he begged, his voice now barely a whisper.

You felt his tears, warm drops falling onto your cold skin. His grip on you tightened, as if he could somehow tether you to the world with sheer willpower alone. His lips brushed against your forehead, lingering there for a long moment, his breath uneven and shuddering.

“Guards!” he suddenly roared, his voice filled with rage and desperation. “Bring the maester! now!” His shout echoed through the halls, filled with so much fury that it startled the guards who had just entered. They rushed to obey, sprinting away with wide, terrified eyes.

But Aemond didn’t look at them. He only looked at you. His heart thundered in his chest, louder than any sound in the world. He rocked you slowly, his eye never leaving your face, his lips moving as he whispered to you like a prayer.

“You’re mine,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with pain and love in equal measure. “Do you hear me? You’re mine. You stay with me, and I’ll burn the world for you. I’ll burn it all.” His words were a vow, spoken with the conviction of a man who had nothing left to lose.

His fingers pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his knuckles stained with crimson. “You’re strong,” he whispered again, his voice low and breaking. “Stronger than anyone I know. You’ll survive this. You have to.”

But even as he said it, he glanced at the blood on his hands, and doubt clawed its way into his heart. For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen, the fierce Prince of the Greens, looked truly, utterly afraid.

Aemond’s arms held you tightly, your body limp against his chest. His jaw was set in a hard line, his eye dark with a storm of emotions—fear, anger, desperation. His pace was steady but urgent, each step deliberate as if moving any faster might hurt you. Blood dripped steadily from your wound, staining the front of his tunic and trailing behind him like a path of grief.

“Aemond!” Alicent’s voice echoed behind him, filled with panic and worry. “Be careful! Let the maester come to you!”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. Her voice was nothing but noise in his ears. All he could think about was you—the warmth of your body slowly fading, your breath shallow and uneven. His heart pounded in his chest, each thump matching the sound of his boots on the cold stone floor.

“You’ll be fine,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would make it true. His gaze was locked forward, sharp and focused, his expression one of grim determination. “I’ll get you to our chambers. The maester will come. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine.”

The halls of the Red Keep blurred around him. Faces of servants and guards turned toward him with wide, horrified eyes as they saw the blood-soaked prince carrying his wounded wife. Whispers followed him, but no one dared approach. They knew better. They had seen the look in his eye—the look of a man on the edge of breaking.

His breath grew heavier as he climbed the stairs to your shared chambers, every step heavier than the last. His muscles ached, not from exhaustion but from fear. He glanced down at you, his heart twisting at the sight of your pale face, your eyes barely open.

“Stay with me,” he whispered again, his voice cracking. “Don’t close your eyes. We’re almost there.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheek, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “Just a little longer, my love.”

Finally, he reached your chambers. He kicked the door open with more force than necessary, the wood crashing against the wall. The room was quiet, the soft glow of the fire flickering in the hearth. Slowly, he lowered you onto the bed, his hands never leaving you for more than a second. His movements were careful, as if you were made of glass that could shatter at any moment.

His gaze flickered to the dagger still lodged in your stomach, his eye narrowing with barely restrained fury. Blood had pooled around the wound, soaking through your clothes. His breathing grew heavy again, his teeth gritting as he fought the urge to tear the dagger out himself.

“Where is the maester?!” he roared, his voice echoing through the halls like thunder. His eye darted to the doorway, expecting to see someone—anyone—rush in. When no one appeared, he cursed under his breath, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

But then his gaze shifted back to you, and everything else faded away. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hands trembling as he cupped your face. His silver hair hung loosely around him like a veil, his sharp features softened by anguish.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “Please, don’t leave me.” His voice was quieter now, no longer the commanding, sharp tone of a prince. It was the voice of a man terrified of losing the one thing that grounded him.

He sat there, his hands on either side of your face, his eye squeezed shut as if he could will your survival into reality. “I’ll find them,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll hunt them down. I’ll make them pay for this.” His fingers tightened on your face—not painfully, but firmly, as if trying to tether you to him. “But not yet. Not until you’re safe.”

Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hall. The maester arrived with two attendants carrying a box of medical supplies. Alicent followed close behind, her face pale, her eyes red from tears. She moved toward you, her lips quivering as she whispered a prayer under her breath.

Aemond didn’t move from your side. He didn’t let anyone push him away. Even as the maester approached, Aemond stayed close, his hand gripping yours, his eye never leaving your face. His lips moved silently, whispering words meant only for you.

“Stay with me,” he repeated like a mantra, his voice raw and broken. “Stay with me.”

The silence that filled the room was more piercing than any scream. The maester’s words echoed in everyone’s minds, but no one spoke.

Aemond stood frozen by the side of your bed, his gaze fixed on your bandaged stomach. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as if his body had turned to stone. Alicent stood behind him, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and overwhelming grief.

“A child…?” Alicent whispered, barely audible. Her eyes darted to you, filled with confusion and guilt. “You… you were pregnant?”

Those words cut through Aemond like a blade. Slowly, he turned to face you. His one violet eye burned with a storm of emotions — shock, anger, sorrow, and pain. He looked as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

“You were pregnant?” he asked, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but there was a sharp edge to it. He took a step closer to the side of your bed, his intense gaze locked on yours. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. “I was going to tell you,” you murmured weakly, your voice fragile from exhaustion and pain. “That night… I wanted to tell Grandfather, then I planned to tell all of you. But everything… everything fell apart.”

His eyes blinked slowly, and he took a deep, shaky breath, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck straining. He lowered himself slowly, squatting by your side with his hands braced on his knees.

“Our child,” he muttered, his voice cracking as if the words themselves hurt to say. He stared at your stomach, his gaze hollow and distant. His fingers twitched, his hands trembling as if he was on the verge of losing control. “I wasn’t there… I should have been there.”

He leaned forward, his head bowed low, his shoulders shaking just slightly. Alicent took a step forward, trying to place a hand on his shoulder, but he raised a hand to stop her, his fingers stiff and firm.

“Leave, Mother,” he said in a low, sharp voice, his gaze still fixed on your stomach.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, stepping forward, her eyes pleading with him. “Please, think carefully.”

But he wasn’t listening. His single eye locked on the maester again, his face twisted with barely contained fury. “Get out,” he snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Before I lose what little control I have left.”

Alicent hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she knew better than to push him. With a heavy heart, she left the room, glancing at you one last time before the door closed behind her.

Once she was gone, there was only the two of you. Silence. Stillness.

Aemond finally lifted his face to look at you. “I swear,” he said, his voice raw and broken, yet filled with resolve. “Those who did this… they will pay.”

He took your hand in his, gripping it firmly but tenderly. He brought it to his lips and pressed a long, lingering kiss on your knuckles as if it were the only thing grounding him to reality. “I should have been here,” he whispered again, his eye filled with self-loathing. “I should have protected you.”

“You didn’t know,” you said softly, your voice faint but sincere. “You can’t blame yourself, Aemond.”

He closed his eye for a moment, drawing in a deep breath, and slowly shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he said, his voice more resolute now, colder, sharper. “An apology is not enough. Empty promises are not enough.”

His face changed. The tenderness you had seen moments before faded into something colder, harder — a mask of quiet fury. It was the face you had seen him wear when he made a decision that could not be undone.

“They took our child,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, his eye narrowing with cold fury. “I will make sure they feel the same loss. I will hunt them down, one by one, until they beg me to end them.”

“Aemond, please—” your voice cracked as pain shot through your stomach. You winced, biting down on your lip to stop a groan from escaping. Aemond’s eyes widened, and in an instant, he was by your side, his hand pressing gently on your shoulder to keep you from moving.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice firm but laced with worry. “You need to rest. Nothing is more important than you right now.”

But despite his gentle words, you knew what was going through his mind. You could see it in the way his gaze shifted to the door, as if he were already envisioning the faces of the people he would hunt down.

“Aemond, don’t do this,” you pleaded, forcing yourself to sound as steady as possible. “Don’t let hatred consume you.”

His eyes returned to yours, and for a moment, his face softened. He reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“It’s not hatred,” he said quietly, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “It’s justice.”

Then he stood. And in that moment, you knew. You knew, as he released your hand and walked toward the corner of the room where his sword lay. His fingers brushed over the hilt, slow and deliberate, like it was a part of him.

“Aemond, don’t leave me,” you begged, your voice trembling as your tears fell freely now. “Don’t leave me alone.”

He paused at the door, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of a deep breath. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. And in that single glance, you saw it — doubt, grief, love.

“I will always come back to you,” he promised, his voice a quiet but unyielding vow. “But I will not come back empty-handed.”

“I will make them regret it. They thought they could take from me without anything in return?”

“They will know what it means to take something from Aemond Targaryen.” his voice was cold as Valyrian steel.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud that echoed throughout the room.

Tears streamed down your face. You stared at the ceiling, struggling to breathe steadily. Your body felt weak, and your stomach felt hollow — not just from the wound, but from the loss of something precious.

The loss was real. The loss was deep.

Outside, the sound of Aemond’s footsteps echoed down the corridor. Each step was slow, heavy, deliberate. The guards stationed along the hall stood at attention as he passed, saluting him, but he did not see them. His gaze was fixed ahead, unwavering, unyielding.

He would find them.

And he would show no mercy.

You leaned your head against the headboard, your gaze distant, fixed on the window where the sky outside shifted from soft blues to the dull gray of a coming storm. The cold air seeped in through the cracks, chilling your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache that gnawed at your heart.

The pain in your stomach had dulled, the sharp sting replaced by a hollow, aching throb. But it was the pain in your heart that refused to subside — an unbearable weight that settled deep in your chest. You pressed your hand lightly over your abdomen, your fingers trembling as you felt the warmth of the bandages beneath your palm.

A child.

Your child.

Gone.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. If you started crying now, you feared you wouldn’t be able to stop. The silence of the room was suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire, but its warmth did nothing to ease the coldness within you.

Is this the gods’ punishment? The thought clawed at your mind, sharp and relentless. Is this their justice for my choices?

You thought of your mother, of Luke, and of everything that had happened since the day your grandfather died. Siding with the Greens had been a choice made out of love, duty, and survival. But now, doubt seeped in. Was it all worth it?

A sob threatened to break free from your chest, but you swallowed it down, clenching your fists at your sides. You didn’t want to appear weak — not even here, not even now, when there was no one to see you.

Alone.

That word echoed in your mind, louder than the crackling fire, louder than the silence that hung over the Red Keep like a storm cloud.

Aemond was gone. He had left you with promises of revenge and justice, but he had still left. And though you understood why, it didn’t make the ache any less painful.

Alicent was with Helaena and her children. You could hardly blame her. After what had happened to Jaehaerys, Helaena needed her mother now more than ever. But it left you feeling… forgotten. Alone.

The weight of it pressed down on you, heavier than any wound. Your eyes drifted back to the window, watching as the clouds darkened, the first raindrops tapping softly against the glass. It felt fitting — the world mourning with you.

You closed your eyes, letting the sounds of the rain fill your mind. Maybe if you focused hard enough, you could drown out everything else. The pain. The loss. The guilt. The feeling of being so, so alone.

But no matter how hard you tried, it was still there. The ache in your heart remained, as if the gods themselves had branded you with it.

The next morning, you were still leaning against the headboard, your gaze lost in the distance when the door to your chamber creaked open. Alicent entered slowly, carrying a tray of food in her hands. The soft clinking of porcelain and metal echoed in the quiet room.

Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if she feared one wrong move would shatter you completely. Her eyes, filled with sorrow and quiet pain, watched you closely. Seeing you like this — pale, fragile, and hollow-eyed — seemed to break something inside her.

She placed the tray gently on the table beside the bed. The warmth of the food wafted toward you, the scent of bread and broth filling the room, but it did little to stir your appetite.

You glanced at her, your eyes dull and heavy with exhaustion. Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line, as if she were holding back words or tears. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the distant patter of rain on the window.

Your voice was hoarse when you finally broke the silence. “Has Aemond returned?” you asked quietly, your gaze fixed on the bedsheets, too afraid to meet her eyes.

Alicent’s breath hitched, her hands folding tightly in front of her. Her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read — was it guilt, was it pity? She hesitated for a moment too long.

“Not yet,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for your hand but stopped herself halfway, as if unsure if you’d allow her to touch you. “But he will. He always returns.”

Her words were meant to reassure you, but they only made your chest tighten with the familiar ache of longing. You nodded slowly, leaning your head back against the headboard, eyes fluttering closed. You didn’t want to think about where Aemond was or what he might be doing. Not now.

Alicent sat at the edge of the bed, silent and watchful. You felt her eyes on you, the weight of her worry pressing down like a heavy blanket. She didn’t tell you to eat. She didn’t tell you to get up. She just stayed, her quiet presence offering a comfort she didn’t know how to put into words.

You stayed like that for a while, the rain tapping softly against the glass, the warmth of the untouched food slowly fading from the air.

You finally broke the silence, your voice trembling with a raw edge of pain. “It was a miracle,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on nothing in particular. “A miracle that I conceived after only a week of marriage with Aemond.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. Your hands tightened around the blanket on your lap, fingers twisting the fabric as if it were the only thing grounding you. Alicent turned her head toward you, her brows furrowed in concern, but she stayed silent, letting you speak.

“But the gods…” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “The gods must be punishing me.” Your eyes finally met Alicent’s, filled with unshed tears. “They gave me a gift, only to take it back.” Your voice was strained, raw with emotion. “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed a hand against your stomach, feeling the dull ache that lingered there. But it wasn’t the pain from the wound that made you crumble — it was the emptiness. The loss.

“I’m angry, Mother,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m angry at them, at everything. At myself.” Your breaths grew shallow, your heart pounding against your ribs. “I feel… I feel like I’ve failed.”

Alicent’s face crumpled, her eyes shining with tears she struggled to contain. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, the warmth of her touch grounding you. Her fingers curled around yours with a firm but gentle grip.

“You did nothing wrong,” she said softly but firmly. Her voice had the weight of a woman who had known loss and grief too many times. “The gods are cruel, and their will is beyond our understanding. But you are not to blame.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her grip on your hand tightening.

Her words touched something inside you, but the ache in your heart remained, sharp and unyielding. Tears spilled down your cheeks, silent and unrelenting, as the weight of everything crashed down at once — the loss of your child, the fear for Aemond, the weight of a world that seemed so ready to break you.

Alicent moved closer, wrapping her arms around you. She held you tightly, her hand cradling the back of your head as she whispered words of comfort you could barely hear over the sound of your quiet sobs.

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated like a prayer, her voice steady even as her own tears began to fall. “It’s not your fault.”

You finally broke down in Alicent’s arms, your sobs coming in waves so powerful that they left you gasping for air. All the pain, the anger, the grief, and the loneliness you had kept bottled up inside came pouring out in an uncontrollable flood. Your body shook with every cry, your face buried in her shoulder as if trying to hide from the world that had been so cruel to you.

“I’m so tired,” you choked out between sobs. “I’m so… so tired of all of it.” Your hands gripped the fabric of her dress, holding on as if letting go would make you fall apart completely.

Alicent said nothing at first, letting you release it all. Her arms were steady and firm around you, grounding you in the storm of your own emotions. She held you the way a mother holds a child, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rested on your back. Every now and then, she pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to the top of your head, her breath warm and steady against you.

“You are not alone,” she whispered softly into your hair. “You have me. You have Aemond. We are your family, and we will not abandon you.” Her words were slow, deliberate, each one carrying the weight of her love and conviction.

Her embrace was unyielding, her presence solid and constant, like an anchor in a sea of chaos. You clung to her, letting yourself feel every ounce of your grief. No one rushed you. No one told you to stop crying.

Time felt like it stretched into eternity, the only sound in the room being your quiet sobs and the gentle hum of Alicent’s soothing whispers. And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable. You allowed yourself to feel everything.

And for the first time in days, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @giirlinblack

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

WILD HEARTS (M)

★ PAIRING: Haechan x Reader (ft. Mark)

☆ WORD COUNT: 12.7k

★ GENRE(S): smut, hate to lovers

☆ Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had a crush on Mark. Over the summer, you have the opportunity to get closer to him but there is one problem. For as long as you could remember him, Haechan always got in the way.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, rated 18+, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: I had to do this before the summer ended. Would you believe me if I said this was supposed to be nothing but fluff? I tried so hard not to write hate to love but my finger slipped. Next time, I promise. Enjoy.

Since fifth grade, you have had a crush on Mark Lee. In the seventh grade, you spoke your first words to him, and by the twelfth grade, you had at least two or three exchanges. This year you two are attending the same college. You would not let your good fortune be for naught because this year, Mark Lee would be yours.

“Five days out in the woods?” Your roommate quirks a brow at you. “You hate bugs, you’re a shut-in, and you’re not even part of that club.”

“Not yet. I’m working on that, and I’m not a shut-in! I just don’t fit in,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

You had a hard time making friends back in grade school, graduating with only having made a handful. You were the smart kid, the nerd, and the one people would pick on when they were bored. You had a hard time fitting in, but since you started college, things have mellowed out a lot. College kids didn’t care how you looked, how you dressed, or who you were; they had too many deadlines to meet and too much classwork to juggle to really care about those things. You were finally able to come out of your shell a little, and with your newfound confidence, you are certain you could bag the man of your dreams.

Mark Lee was perfect—he was smart, athletic, funny, and most of all, kind. He was the only one to look at you with any ounce of kindness back in grade school. This year, you had created a plan to finally get him to notice you. Mark is the head of the campus activities board, and this year the club is going on a camping trip. You saw a flyer hanging up outside the student center; it stated that the trip would be five days and four nights at some old camping grounds by a lake. This was the perfect chance to get close to Mark; the only problem was that you weren’t a member of the club yet, and the deadline was fast approaching.

“Whatever, you’re still too scared to talk to him,” your friend shrugs while flipping through her textbook.

“Yeri, you’re not helping,” you whine before flopping onto your bed in defeat. She was right; you hadn’t talked to Mark in who knows how long.

“I’m sorry. I believe in you,” she says unconvincingly.

“I’ll prove it! By the end of this trip, Mark Lee will be mine!” You sit up with newfound conviction.

Your roommate smiles in amusement. “Good luck.”

You woke up early the next morning, needing ample time to get ready and hype yourself up. You got a full eight hours of sleep last night, and you were going to need every ounce of energy if you were going to talk to Mark today. You even had time to make a quick breakfast. As you checked the time one last time before leaving, you gasped. You had spent so much time getting ready—taking a shower, doing your makeup, and eating—but you were still too early. Maybe you overestimated the time it would take you to get ready. You still had an entire hour until your first class.

“What are you doing?” a groggy Yeri asks, rubbing her eyes as she opens the fridge.

“I woke up too early,” you sigh.

“It’s because you’re too anxious. Relax—it will work out. It’s not like you’re asking him to marry you.”

"Not yet," you think to yourself.

You needed to go for a walk; Some fresh air would help clear your mind and calm your nerves. There's a trail near your dorm, so you decide that's where you’ll go. The truth is, you don’t have a clear plan beyond the trip itself. You know the first step is to go, but after that, you’re unsure. You figured there would be plenty of camp activities and various team-building exercises. Maybe a deeper bond could be formed through those? You heard there was archery planned; perhaps you could shoot an arrow right through his heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Yeri calls after you, noticing your distracted expression as you step outside.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how to make the most of this trip,” you reply with a nervous laugh.

“Well, don’t overthink it. Just be yourself and see where things go. You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself as you set off toward the trail. Each step helps you steady your nerves, your mind buzzing with the excitement of what’s to come. This is just the start of your plan to finally get close to Mark Lee, and you’re determined to make every moment count.

You bite your lip in thought, realizing that before you can do anything, you first need to overcome a major hurdle: talking to him without feeling like your throat is closing up. Mark makes you more nervous than you already are. Just looking at him makes your heart race, like it's about to jump out of your chest. Whenever you've tried to speak with him before, you could barely get a word out without stuttering. There must be a way to make this easier. Maybe you could ask one of the other club members to help you sign up? No, you need to face this yourself; otherwise, you’ll never gather the courage to ask him out.

The trail wound through the entire campus, you took the long way to think and you eventually ended up heading toward your first class. This was where you’d cross paths with Mark every morning since he had class in the same building as you. Spotting him on his way to class, you decided it was time to rip off the bandage and get the ball rolling. The quad between the buildings was bustling, and you had to navigate through a crowd to reach him. Just as you were inches away from tapping his shoulder, someone roughly pushed you aside. You stumble into another student, quickly apologize, and look around for the person who shoved you.

It was him—Haechan.

You burn holes into the back of his head. Your relationship with Haechan isn’t really a relationship at all; it’s one-sided animosity. You despise him for the simple crime of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which, unfortunately for you, is always next to Mark. As Mark's best friend, Haechan is always glued to his side, and time after time, he’s managed to come between you and Mark.

There was that time in middle school when you sprained your ankle. Mark was supposed to take you to the nurse’s office because he was the teacher’s aide, but Haechan insisted on taking you instead. Then there was the school project where you were paired with Mark, but because Haechan joined the class, the number of students became uneven, and he was added to your group. When Mark got sick, you ended up meeting with Haechan every Sunday to finish the project instead.

The worst thing Haechan did, though, was steal your first kiss. It happened at the one and the only party you were ever invited to. Eager to fit in, you joined a game of spin the bottle, convinced it would land on Mark. Your heart sank when, at the last moment, it landed on Haechan instead. So he kissed you. When he pulled away, everyone looked at him with expectant eyes. You could see it on their faces: how did the "weird girl" kiss? The embarrassment was overwhelming.

“Your lips are chapped”

Chapped? Chapped! From that moment on, you were called "Chappy" for the rest of the year. You wanted to murder Lee Haechan. Determined not to let him get in your way this time, you head to your class, planning to catch Mark after.

Finally, after an hour-long lecture, you’re free. You take your time exiting the building, scanning for Mark. As you turn a sharp corner, you run into someone and stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet. An arm reaches out to steady you.

“Thank—” Oh no, it was happening again. Your throat was closing up, your brain was malfunctioning, and you just wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. Yeri called it the “Leeffect.” It was like, whenever Mark was around, you froze up like a deer in headlights.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” He asks, bending down to pick up the keys you dropped.

It takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken your keys from his outstretched hand. No! You refuse to let the “leeffect” ruin this. It’s now or never.

“It’s not too late, right?”

“Late for what?”

Be specific, you chide yourself, you’re sinking here.

“The club!” You blurt out too loudly. “Sorry, um, I saw a flyer about your club going camping. It’s not too late to join, is it?” You finish weakly.

“Wait, you want to join the club? You’re exactly what I needed!”

Mark said he needed you, you think dreamily.

“My friend really wanted to go on this trip, but since it’s already kind of last minute, everyone had already buddied up. But if you join, we’ll have enough people to pair off evenly!” Mark explains, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s perfect!”

This was terrible. Mark was supposed to be your partner. You sigh a little in disappointment when he leaves. It could be worse.

“At least you got his number, and hey, now you’re going on the trip!” Yeri tries to cheer you up.

You pop another gummy worm into your mouth, chewing it absentmindedly. It’s movie night at the dorm: Yeri is sprawled across half the couch, while you’re curled up on the other end.

“Yeah, but I still have to go with someone else!”

“Do you know who your buddy is yet?”

“I don’t know yet; I didn’t have time to ask. We just exchanged information. He said he’d text me the details later because he had to get to his next class.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to switch?” You hope she’s right.

The next morning, you receive his text with all the information. He sends a detailed paragraph containing the location, fees, departure date, activities, and a short itinerary of the stops along the way. There’s also a list of key items you might want to bring. At the end of the message, he includes your buddy’s phone number. You’re set to leave in two days.

Everything was packed, and you were out the door before the sun was even up. You had a long day ahead of you, but you didn’t care because you’d be on the same bus as Mark for five hours! Sure, you had to sit next to your designated partner, but if he chose an aisle seat, you could sit across the aisle from him.

All club members were to meet at the student center and load the buses from there. You arrive and slip inside with your bags and head to the lounge area. Not expecting to be the first one to show up, you text your buddy to let them know you’re waiting.

You stay positive—nothing could ruin your chance to get close to Mark. People start arriving along with their buddies, and everyone slowly pairs up, but you’re still left alone. Mark finally shows up, and as the leader, he gathers everyone to go over the rules and what to expect for the trip. You’re instructed to sit next to your buddy on the bus, stick with them at rest stops, and stay together if you visit a gift shop. You understand the need for caution, especially when traveling far from campus, but you can't help feeling a bit stifled.

It isn’t long before it’s time to load the bus, and your buddy still hasn’t arrived. You wait in line to pack your bags into the additional storage space under the bus, hoping your buddy will show up soon.

“Dude! What took you so long? I thought you weren’t going to make it!” Mark’s voice cuts through the crowd.

You glance over your shoulder and tighten your grip on your bag at the sight.

“Overslept, sorry,” another voice responds.

Lee Haechan was catching his breath as Mark filled him in on the details. You had a suspicion, and despite your best efforts to dismiss it (such as sacrificing a small child the previous evening to ensure it wasn’t true) there was no denying it now. As he strode up next to you, it became an undeniable reality.

Lee Haechan was your designated trip buddy.

“So, you’re my partner? Nice to meet you. I’m Donghyuck, but everyone calls me Haechan,” he says, shrugging his bag over his shoulder as he introduces himself.

You scoff. Of course he forgot you. After making your early school years a nightmare, how could he not? “Y/N,” you reply coldly, facing forward and closing yourself off from any further conversation. This could not be happening to you.

This trip was starting off terribly. After loading up the bus, you and Haechan were assigned seats far at the back, while Mark was seated at the front. Haechan claimed the window seat, leaving you stuck in the aisle seat with no Mark on the other side. You had no one to talk to and nothing to look at. You were bored.

The only upside was that Mark was sitting in an aisle seat at the front, so if you leaned just a bit into the aisle, you could catch glimpses of the back of his head. Unfortunately, hanging your head into the aisle to sneak peeks at Mark for five hours wasn’t exactly cool and mysterious, so that option was out of the question.

Haechan had given up on trying to talk to you after you had ignored him for the third time an hour into the trip. You had practically acted like he wasn’t even there. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the next four hours.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, the bus stops for a bathroom break. Haechan trails behind you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. As you both make your way to the restrooms, you manage to say your first words to him in hours.

“Seriously, you don’t have to follow me everywhere. You wanna wait outside the stall too?”

“I’d actually feel safer inside. Someone might snatch me up,” Haechan replies with a grin.

You roll your eyes as you head toward the women’s bathroom. “And I’d just die if that happened,” you joke sarcastically.

When you exit the bathroom, Haechan is at your side again. As you both leave the rest stop, you notice Mark and his partner chatting on a bench outside. With a few more moments to stretch before loading the bus again, you figure it’s as good a time as any to chat with Mark.

Mark looks up and waves. You wave back but realize a second too late that he was actually waving at Haechan. Haechan strolls over, and you follow behind.

Haechan effortlessly joins Mark’s conversation, and you can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at how easily he fits in. You don’t mind too much, though; watching from the sidelines gives you a chance to observe Mark up close without being too obvious

“I’m really glad you decided to come on the trip,” Mark says. It takes you a moment to realize that the conversation has shifted to you and Mark is addressing you directly.

You take a deep breath, remembering your practice. “Thank you for letting me join so late,” you say.

“It's no problem and Haechan's great! I think you’re going to love him. Hopefully, we can all hang out after the trip,” Mark encourages.

You can practically feel the stars twinkling in your eyes at the promise. “That sounds great!”

When it’s time to load the bus, you notice that Haechan is a bit quieter than before. It doesn’t bother you much, but the constant staring does.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

Haechan hesitates for a moment before finally speaking. “You like him, don’t you?”

You choke on your own spit. “What!?”

“Mark, you look at him with the worst case of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen,” Haechan states matter-of-factly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is the heat getting to you? Want me to ask if they can turn the AC up?” In a bus cramped full of college kids, it could get stuffy, so maybe he needed some more air because he clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

“I can help you, if you want,” Haechan proposes.

You’re at a loss for words. This had to be a joke, but if it wasn’t, you had to take the chance. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to talk to me. For the rest of the trip, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore,” he whispers, turning in his seat to face you. “Promise to give me the time of day, and I’ll help you win Mark’s heart.”

“And what makes you so sure you can do that?”

“No one knows Mark better than me,” he smirks.

And that’s how you made a deal with the devil.

Although Haechan was your assigned buddy, you ended up with an entirely different bunkmate. You had never spoken to her, but you did know her. She was in one of your morning lectures, sitting a few rows in front of you.

“Hey, I’m Yujin. I’ll be your roommate for the next few days,” she introduces herself as you unpack your bags. You had finally arrived at the camp a few hours ago, and after the initial tour of the grounds, you had been split into pairs and assigned to different cabins.

You liked Yujin well enough. You hadn’t come here with the intention of making friends, so whether you hit it off with her or not didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, too preoccupied with dusting off the covers on the top bunk and checking for any spiders or insects that might have crept into the sheets. You really hated the outdoors.

“Woman of few words, huh? I think we’ll get along just fine,” she says with a genuine smile. Her sincerity makes you pause and look at her for a few seconds. You appreciate that she isn’t completely put off by your quiet demeanor. Maybe she’s right; you two could definitely get along well.

After settling in, you change into the club’s shirt and some active shorts. You consider staying in the club even if you don’t manage to get close to Mark, because they’ve really made an effort to make you feel welcome. Despite having just joined, someone had already given you an extra club shirt to help you feel included.

There’s little time to rest. There were multiple activities planned for today ranging from high to low mobility. Mark mentioned one of the activities was arts and crafts. After a long day of settling in all you really wanted was to relax but with such an important mission going on you decide every second counts. You and Yujin head over to the cabin that hosts the art activates and you hope you run into mark somewhere along the way. The cabin is spacious, filled with heaps of art supplies and a few tables set up to work on.

Yujin splits off to find her original buddy, leaving you to navigate the cabin on your own. You haven’t seen Haechan since you arrived at camp.

There was a patio at the back with a few more tables, and since the wind wasn’t very strong, you decided to sit out there. Everyone was busy with their own projects, and you had chosen to make something that reminded you of Mark.

“What is that?” a voice asks. You look up from the glue sticks and paper you’ve been using.

“Origami. Do you think Mark would like it?” You ask Haechan.

“Maybe if he was twelve.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay, I think it’s kind of cute. Is it a star?” he asks, opening the notebook he brought.

“No, it’s a sunflower!” You reply, a bit offended.

“Why are you using glue for origami?” Haechan asks, picking up a spare pencil from the table and starting to sketch.

“The paper keeps tearing,” you shrug. “This is stupid. He’s in college, not kindergarten. What am I even doing?” you say in defeat. You still haven’t spoken a word to Mark since you arrived at camp.

You throw the origami sunflower onto the table and cross your arms. Haechan picks it up and carefully tucks it into the pages of his sketchbook. You figure he’s better off having it than Mark.

“Don’t frown like that; you’ll get wrinkles,” Haechan scolds gently.

“Oh, thanks for the advice! Last time I checked, you were supposed to be helping me figure out how to get Mark to like me!”

Haechan sketches absentmindedly. “Okay, let me think. How about you just be yourself?” he suggests.

Your frown deepens. “Have you met me? There’s nothing special about me. He wouldn’t like me,” you reply quietly.

Haechan sighs. “So you’re just going to pretend to be someone else forever if he does date you?”

“Yes,” you say, gazing out at the tree line and taking in the wild beauty. “If it means being by his side, then yes.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Haechan says. “Tomorrow there’s a canoe race. I bet if you win, he’ll congratulate you.”

“You think something like that would impress him?” you ask.

“Mark likes athletic girls who can keep up with him. If you win, everyone will be talking about you,” Haechan explains.

“Maybe... we’ll see,” you say thinking on it. You head back to your cabin.

That night, you stay up with Yujin, talking about everything and nothing. Despite being polar opposites, you click surprisingly well. You’re still hesitant to tell her about your crush on Mark, but you do share your frustrations about Haechan.

“I can’t believe he said that,” Yujin giggles.

“And after all this, he acts like he doesn’t even remember me!” you add.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed? He probably feels bad about what he did.”

“Well, then he should apologize!”

Yujin just shrugs, popping another candied rope into her mouth. She’s sitting at the only desk in the room, finishing her arts and crafts project from earlier. She’s working on some paper Mache lemon shark, despite your suggestion to finish it tomorrow in the craft cabin.

“I mean, what if this is his way of making amends? Didn’t he say he was going to help you get that guy to like you?” she says. You’ve explained the situation to her but left out any direct mention of Mark.

You consider the possibility but remain unimpressed. Even if Haechan somehow managed to make Mark fall for you, you’d never forgive him for everything he’d done.

You wake up to a light tapping and realize it’s Haechan knocking on the wood of your bunk bed.

“Rise and shine,” he says, peeking at you from behind his sunglasses.

“What time is it?” you ask, panicked.

Apparently, you’ve overslept a little. You had planned to wake up early, you just needed a few hours to practice for the race but now you were down to just 2. You scramble down from your bunk and notice the empty bed underneath yours—Yujin must have already left for the day.

“Can you step out? I need to change,” you say, ushering him out of the cabin.

Haechan waits outside while you quickly change into something light for the weather. Since you’ll be canoeing, you put on sandals, grab a towel in case you get wet, and slip on a visor.

With some time left before the race, you head over to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. Haechan silently follows you and sits on the other side of the table, watching as you eat. The silence is thick, leaving you to focus on your meal while trying to shake off the lingering anxiety about the day ahead. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made you realize how little you and Haechan had to talk about.

“Have you eaten already?”

“It’s 1 p.m.,” he replies.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he says, and once again, silence falls between you.

You ignore his attitude, he was probably upset you woke up so late. You finish up, and Haechan stands to follow you. Together, you head to the lake to practice for the canoe race later. You find the shed with the equipment and drag one of the canoes to the water. Haechan holds it steady while you hop in, then pushes it into the lake and climbs in after you.

You had watched a YouTube video the other night and thought it looked easy enough. At first its hard to find the right rhythm but when you do, the rowing is relaxing. Unfortunately after about five minutes, your arms start to ache. You quickly realize that you’re not cut out for the outdoors or any physical labor.

“Would you row already? We’re barely moving!” Haechan calls from behind you.

“I’m tired! This was a bad idea,” you whine. Your arms are burning, and it feels like you’re rowing through sand.

“Well, if you don’t row, I’m not rowing either,” Haechan huffs, pulling his oars into the boat.

“Hey! Those are wet—you’re getting them on me!”

“Well then, pull your weight!”

“This was your idea!”

He glares at you in annoyance. “Fine! If you want to sit out here, we can!”

After sitting in silence for at least five minutes, you finally lean back against Haechan’s knees, surprisingly finding he doesn’t push you away.

“The race is going to start soon. We need to get back,” Haechan says. “I’m really going to need your help if we’re going to win.”

You look up at him and sigh in defeat. Knowing your probably being really childish, you pull your oars up, ready to help steer you both back to shore.

As you row in sync with Haechan, he starts singing a melody that matches your rhythm. His smooth, relaxing voice makes you forget about the burn in your arms. You don’t even notice when the canoe gently bumps against the sandy bank. By the time you pull the canoe to shore, everyone else is already preparing for the race.

“I know we just got the hang of this, but I definitely don’t think I can row again so soon. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off,” you say, stretching your limbs after being in the canoe for so long.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a quitter, Y/N?” Mark says, walking up to you in nothing but a life jacket and swim trunks.

Your breath catches at the sight of his toned arms. “Um, no, absolutely not! I would never quit on you, Mark!” you say suddenly feeling energized.

Mark quirks an eyebrow at you with a smile. “What she meant was, you’re going to feel like quitting after we win first place.” Haechan says

"I'll be happy regardless of who wins,” you say cheerfully

"pick me" Haechan coughs out under his breath.

“That's the spirit! No one likes a sore loser!” Mark calls out before turning back to his team mates

After the initial overview of the rules, the announcer gives everyone 10 minutes to prepare. You don't have very high hopes of winning anymore, but you hope to at least have fun. You spot Yujin somewhere in the crowd, and she waves at you, giving you a thumbs up. There are 5 teams competing, while the rest of the people have either taken to the stands or are off doing some other small activities set up around the camp.

The race is starting, and once the gun sounds, you and Haechan get into your canoe and push off.

You start the race strong and manage to keep up with the others. Mark and his partner are in 1st place, while you are in 4th, just barely ahead of two girls rowing their canoes.

Your arms are growing tired, and you can feel your grip slipping on the oars. The other teams speed ahead without looking back. You try your hardest to row and are almost close to catching up, but then one of your oars slips.

“Wait, Haechan! I need to get my oar!” You call out, reaching back into the water to try and grab it before it floats away.

“Just leave it! Stay in the boat; it’s dangerous!”

You manage to grasp the oar with your fingertips, but suddenly, the canoe begins to tip over, and you’re falling into the lake.

You’re sinking.

In your haste to start the race, you had picked a lifejacket from the storage shed that was too big and didn’t fit properly. When you fell in, the lifejacket floated up to the surface and slipped out from under your arms as you sank to the bottom.

You lose consciousness, and the last thing you see before blacking out completely are two figures swimming towards you from above.

You wake up, coughing up water as someone hovers over you, patting your back to help you expel it all. You half expect to see Haechan, but when you look up, it's Mark.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his voice.

As you take in your surroundings, you realize you're lying on the shore, surrounded by everyone. Yujin stands nearby, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as she looks over you. You search for Haechan and finally spot him kneeling on the other side of your body.

"Were you the one who saved me?" you ask Mark as he passes a soothing hand over your back.

"I heard all the commotion when you fell in. I had to do something, so I jumped in and went after you," he confirms.

Before you can think about it, you lean over and hug him. Silent tears stream down your face as you weep into his shoulder. You cry so hard that you don’t even notice Haechan’s slight frown that takes over his face as he watches Mark embrace you.

Today, you woke up early for breakfast. You sat with Haechan outside on one of the benches beside the lake as you ate.

"I can't believe Mark gave me CPR!" you gush. "He literally kissed me on the lips, and I have you to thank for that." You flash him a smile as you take a bite of your pancake.

"Well, drowning you was definitely not part of the plan," he replies. He's been a little quieter than usual this morning, and you can't help but wonder what's got into him. "You weren’t even awake for it, so it doesn’t count."

"You're just jealous because I got a kiss from Mark. Be honest, you like him too, don’t you?" you ask jokingly.

"And what if I do?"

“That makes you my love rival and I would have to kill you in your sleep,” you say, waving your fork in his face.

“Only if you promise to choke me out,” he says, taking a bite of his food with a playful smirk.

You stick your fork into his plate and take a bite out of one of his pancakes, not fighting the smile that spreads across your face. A part of you still feels a twinge of disgust at the thought of Haechan attempting to flirt with you, but you're in such a good mood that you can’t care less.

"Hey, Y/N. Good morning," Mark says, sitting down with his own plate of food.

"Oh, good morning, Mark!" You smile at him but can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, so you focus on cutting your pancakes. You’re still embarrassed about crying all over him.

"I was just coming over to check on you. After yesterday, are you alright?" he asks.

"All thanks to you," you say, forking a piece of pancake into your mouth.

"Well, Haechan helped too," Mark adds matter-of-factly, glancing towards Haechan.

You do remember seeing another figure dive in after you, which might explain why Haechan has been so quiet today. You didn’t bother thanking him at all.

"Thanks," you say as sincerely as you can muster, but it still doesn’t carry the same weight of gratitude as when you thanked Mark. Haechan rolls his eyes playfully.

"I can really feel the sincerity," he says sarcastically. "It’s not like I saved your life or anything. If it wasn’t for me, you would have died and become a virgin ghost."

Mark chokes on a piece of sausage he was chewing, and you kick Haechan under the table. After clearing his throat, Mark makes an effort to change the subject.

"Hey, we're doing tug of war today. I want you on my team if you're up for—"

"I would love to!" you say before he can even finish, then awkwardly apologize for nearly cutting him off.

"Don’t be sorry. I really like that about you. You're so eager, and I’ve seen more drive in you than anyone else," he praises you.

You can’t even muster a reply, only offering him a shy nod, which he returns with a smile.

"Later on, do you want to meet up? we should go over a plan on how to win" he asks.

Your heart races, and you feel like you might die from excitement. Mark wanted to meet up with you to talk! You think you might have died and gone to heaven.

You spend time with Yujin and her friend wandering around camp because you couldn’t find Haechan again. You must have really upset him earlier. You make a mental note to properly thank him later.

After hiking with Yujin and Sungchan and playing a few games of ping pong at the rec cabin you bid them farewell. You know you need to meet Mark before the tug of war match so you head out to find him.

You spot him sitting under a tree, lounging in the sunlight that filters through the branches, much like a cat basking in the warmth of a sunlit window. He doesn't even open his eyes when he speaks to you.

“Isn't this so relaxing? We should just sit here and enjoy the sun.” he says

“oh? what about the game plan,” you say teasingly.

"Hmm..." He scrunches his face up in thought "ok the game plan is to win. now relax with me" he pats the spot next to him.

you feel your cheeks heating up. Was that just an excuse to get you alone?

He turns to you and finally opens his eyes. “You know, after all this time, you really haven't changed. It's just like how you were in high school.

He says, looking you over, like he was trying to piece the face of the young girl he once knew with yours.

“That doesn't sound good. I feel like I was so embarrassing back then.” You snort out a humorless laugh.

“No, you were really shy back then but I always thought you were adorable. I still think you are,” he admits.

Your heart stops beating in your chest. Mark Lee just called you adorable. You couldn't say anything as you just watched the large grin spread over his face. “See, like now, you always get so nervous when you talk to me”

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks even more, and for a moment, all the years of awkwardness and uncertainty vanish in the warmth of his compliment. “Nervous? Me?” you tease, trying to regain your composure, but the softness in his gaze makes it hard to maintain your facade. Deep down, that shy girl still lingers, and as his smile broadens, you wonder if perhaps some things—like the way he makes you feel—never really change at all.

“Tug of war is starting,” a voice cuts off your train of thought along with any moment you and Mark had begun to share.

The familiar voice snaps you back to reality, and just like that, the moment dissolves into the background noise of laughter and playful shouts around you. Haechan stood in front of you. hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he regards you both. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mark underneath the large oak tree and somehow his fingertips were just shy of yours, like he was just seconds away from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Lets go, captain; we won't be able to start without you,” Haechan says before turning around and walking towards camp.

“We should get going,” Mark says, standing up and outstretching a hand towards you. You take his grasp and he helps you up. You shift your focus, momentarily startled, as groups of people gather in anticipation for the game. Mark’s eyes sparkle with excitement, and his grin widens as he turns to join the crowd.

You find yourself standing in front of Mark in line for tug of war, with Haechan, the captain of the opposing team, glaring at you from across the rope. He seems a bit annoyed as your eyes meet over the mud puddle, perhaps wishing you'd joined his team, but there's no time to ponder that when the game starts and you're yanked in every direction. You dig your feet into the ground to stabilize yourself as your team struggles to hold on, determined to avoid getting covered in mud.

Despite your efforts, you slip, and with one final tug, your team is launched into the puddle. Mark manages to catch you before you fall, but you both tumble into the mud together. Wiping the dirt from your eyes, you see Mark fighting back laughter, which prompts you to scoop up some mud and toss it at him in retaliation. His laughter fades, and yours takes over as you watch him try to clean himself off, leaving you feeling like a kid again.

You both look ridiculous, covered in muck and breathless with laughter, the tension between you melting away in an instant. He glances at you with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but grin wider. “What was that about me being adorable?” you tease, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Here, let me help you wipe the mud off your adorable face,” Mark threatens with muddy hands

“No, you don't,” you stand up and run. Well, you try to as you slip and slide from the mud caked on the bottom of your shoes. Even though you had lost, your team was full of laughter as Mark chased you through the field. Just when you think you might escape, you glance back, only to be pulled straight into his embrace—mud and all—in a blissful tangle of limbs, and for a moment, the entire world shrinks to just the two of you.

As you step out of the showers, the cool night air hits you, and a tingle of unease settles in since the walk back to your cabin feels especially long in the dark. Yujin had left with Sungchan earlier, leaving you solo and curious about their relationship; they'd grown really close during the trip, and you wish you had the chance to ask her about it. Shrugging it off, you gather your belongings, take a deep breath, and start the trek back, the soft sounds of the night around you doing little to ease your apprehension.

As you gaze over the serene lake, mesmerized by the moonlight reflecting off its surface, a sense of tranquility washes over you, and you momentarily forget your worries. You spot Haechan sitting alone on the dock that stretches out over the water, his silhouette framed against the shimmering backdrop. Curiosity piqued, you debated whether to approach him; he seemed lost in thought, and something about the scene felt deeply intimate.

As you approach Haechan on the dock, the soft fabric of your towel robe sways lightly around you, a reminder of the hasty shower escape and your choice to skip the communal changing area. You feel a mixture of vulnerability and determination bubbling within you—this is the perfect moment to apologize for ditching him during tug of war and to express your gratitude for coming to your rescue. You sense a warm openness in the air. Summoning your courage, you clear your throat and prepare to break the silence, hoping to bridge the gap created by your earlier absence.

"You can really see the stars out here," you say, settling down on the weathered wooden dock next to him. The cool night air wraps around you, and the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

"It’s my favorite thing about coming out here to the middle of nowhere," he replies, his eyes scanning the sky, sparkling with a mix of starlight and mischief.

"I thought being my partner would have been the best part of coming to the middle of nowhere," you joke, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as a breeze rustles through the trees nearby.

He turns his gaze toward you, the moonlight illuminating his features, and a warm smile forms across his face, making your heart flutter.

As you catch him admiring your star-lit features, your smile fades slightly with the weight of earlier events. You turn toward him more seriously and say, "Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were captain of the other team; I would’ve joined your side for sure."

He scoffs lightly, and that infamous smirk dances back onto his lips, infectious and teasing. "I knew you were going to choose Mark over me. It’s no worries." His tone carries a hint of playful exaggeration, but you can sense the underlying disappointment, mixing with the warmth of the night as the stars twinkle endlessly above, both an audience and a comforting blanket to your candid moment.

“And about the lake, I want to properly thank you,” you say, your voice earnest “I saw you swim in after me; I should have thanked you for trying to save me.”

“Look, it’s nothing. Just drop it,” he replies, running a hand through his hair, frustration shadowing his once playful demeanor. The way he shuts you down, the subject must be sensitive.

Somehow, after all your gratitude, you’ve managed to turn the mood sour. “No, because you’re clearly upset about something.”

“I came out here to get some peace and quiet,” he snaps, irritation flashing in his eyes.

“Well, too bad. I’m not leaving you alone until you accept my apology,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

“You are a spoiled brat, you know that?” he snaps, shaking his head in disbelief. Instead of backing down, he stands up, and for a moment, you expect him to walk away to his cabin. But then he unexpectedly pulls his shirt over his head. Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look away, heart racing, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. The cool night air feels electric, and as he stands there, bare and confident, you sense a mix of irritation and something deeper stirring between you, leaving you breathless with unspoken tension.

“You pervert, what are you doing?” You exclaim, shielding your eyes but unable to resist peeking through your fingers.

“Going somewhere you can’t follow,” he replies with a mischievous grin as he shucks down his bottoms, leaving only his boxers.

Before you can even question his intentions, he plunges into the lake with a splash.

“Haechan! What are you doing?” You call out, watching as his head bursts back up, catching his breath.

“You want to talk about it? I dare you to jump in,” he smirks, water dripping from his hair and the moonlight dancing on the surface around him.

That jerk! He knows you can’t swim. There he is, the Haechan you knew and hated—cunning and infuriating. “You think I won’t?” you challenge him.

“I think you don’t have a death wish. Not before fucking Mark, at least,” he teases, pushing your buttons.

“I do not want to sleep with him!” You retort, frustrated, realizing he’s just trying to provoke you out of spite.

“Not before you kiss him, right?” Haechan replies, his words laced with subtle venom, making your heart race with anger and confusion.

“What are you talking about? What’s your problem, anyway?” you snap, irritation bubbling up inside you.

All you have is your robe, and jumping in would leave you completely naked, but he must know that. He’s banking on it, counting on your backing down. “You don’t think I’ll jump in? Watch me,” you declare, defiantly shedding your robe and standing before him, bare and unyielding.

The late hour feels charged with adrenaline, both of you possibly the only ones awake while others are tucked away in their cabins or lost in the woods. Your focus sharpens on the mission at hand: wiping that infuriating smirk off Haechan's face, proving him wrong.

“What are you—” Haechan stutters, his face beet red beneath the moonlight as he treads water, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

“Save me!” you shout just before you leap in, diving into the cool depths. You hold your breath, trying to swim to the surface, but panic begins to set in when you realize it’s no use. In seconds, Haechan is there, pushing your body against his as he powers you both upward.

When you finally break the surface, gasping for air, Haechan doesn’t miss a beat to scold you. “Are you fucking insane? What’s your problem? What if you would’ve drowned?” The worry in his voice makes you realize just how reckless your stunt was.

His grip on you slips, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown,” you say with a teasing smile, and for once, Haechan is left speechless. In that moment, he becomes acutely aware of your naked body pressed up against his; the coolness of the lake contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from you. As your skin brushes against his, he struggles to maintain his composure, desperately trying to think of anything but the sensation of you against him, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’ll surely feel the evidence of his escalating emotions pressing against your stomach.

“You need to learn how to swim,” is all he says.

“Teach me”

Haechan spends the next hour teaching you how to float. You liked that the most because you could just lay back and watch the stars. The next hour he teaches you how to doggy paddle something easy enough for you to learn in such a short amount of time.

After the initial adrenaline rush, you realized just how close you two were. You noticed the way his skin warmed yours against the cool lashings of the water. You don't know how or why but your heart starts to race and suddenly you wish you would have thought a little harder about jumping in completely naked. His hands hover near your waist as you practice, and in that moment, the usual teasing banter dissipates, leaving an intimate stillness between you. Out on the lake, it was just you, Haechan and the stars that lit the deep, dark sky.

As the chill begins to seep into your bones, Haechan helps you back onto the dock, where he hands you your robe with an embarrassed smile. You quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, wrapping it tightly around your body, grateful for the warmth it provides. Just as Haechan tugs his shirt back on, you realize how close you were to him moments before, the intimacy of the swim still lingering in the air. "So, you ready to talk? What's up with you lately?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the quiet moments that have felt so different between you two. His expression shifts slightly, and you can sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

“Mark wasn’t the one who saved you,” Haechan states after a thick silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. A shiver runs down your spine, the truth of the moment crashing into you.

“Well, sure he was. He said he pulled me out of the water,” you reply, but Haechan’s firm correction stops you in your tracks.

“We both pulled you out, but I was the one who did CPR on you, not Mark.”

Panic and realization ignite within you; Haechan was the one who had kissed you, the one who had breathed life back into you. The memory floods back—soft lips, warmth—and your heart races with the implications. “Are you kidding me?” you say with an incredulous laugh, frustration bubbling over. “Every. Single. Time. You do this every single time!” You stalk towards him the distance between you narrowing as you search for answers in his eyes.

His confusion was palpable as he struggled to grasp the depth of your feelings, completely unaware that for years he had been the invisible barrier between you and Mark. He had stolen your first kiss and now your second one as well, leaving you tangled in emotions you didn't quite understand.

“You cannot seriously be upset about that. Some thanks for saving your life,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the situation as if it were trivial.

Anger surges through you at his nonchalance, and you can't hold back the words that spill from your lips. “Fuck you!” you shout, the weight of your frustration fueling every stride as you storm back to your cabin, casting a final glance over your shoulder at the boy.

Your heart raced as anger coursed through you, mingling with an unwanted thrill that made you uneasy. You desperately wanted to push that feeling away; Lee Haechan could only ever make you feel disgust, not excitement. Yet, despite your efforts, you couldn’t shake the confusing mixture of emotions he stirred within you, leaving you frustrated and conflicted.

Despite your anger towards Haechan, he was the only one around lately, as Mark was swamped with camp activities and Yujin had been occupied with her partner. You couldn't help but recall teasing Yujin about their closeness. Being around Haechan felt risky after last night.. You weren't sure how you felt about him. There was a nagging emotion tugging deep in your gut and you were afraid of what it was. Even still, you figured awkward silence with him was preferable to slogging through Yujin's special edition of Moby Dick for a second time this trip.

Part of you was intrigued by the feeling bubbling inside—an inexplicable pull toward Haechan that you couldn't ignore. It was confusing, blending annoyance and curiosity, drawing you closer despite your better judgment.

Haechan seemed unfazed by your presence as you lounged on his bed, absently picking at a loose thread on your tank top. Surprisingly, you weren't as upset about the kiss anymore as you'd anticipated; the initial fury had faded, replaced by a sense of resignation. Given your streak of bad luck, perhaps you should have seen it coming all along.

“Are we really just going to sit here in silence?” Haechan sighed from his spot on the floor, tossing a poorly inflated volleyball into the air and catching it.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said, wanting to clarify. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh yesterday; I was just upset because the one step forward I thought I had was actually two steps back.” You tried to explain, hoping he understood it was nothing personal.

Haechan took a seat beside you on the bed and shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “I want to say I get it, but honestly, I really don't,” he laughed. “I’m a way better prize than Mark.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughing, and for once, you weren’t preoccupied with all the things you disliked about him or the past he had put you through. As the evening wore on, you both found yourselves deep in an unexpected conversation, swapping stories about your earlier lives and uncovering shared interests in music, along with a mutual disdain for the mess hall dinners.

To your surprise, the tension began to dissipate, giving way to a reluctant camaraderie as you relaxed in his presence. In that quiet cabin, with the day’s light fading, something shifted in the atmosphere—something you couldn’t quite name yet, but it lingered like a promise of something more. Could you two actually become true friends?

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks.

“Do you really not remember after all this time?” You ask skeptically.

Haechan joked, "Was I your first kiss?"

"Yes," you replied seriously, watching as his smile faded and surprise lifted his eyebrows.

"You never kissed anyone else before that? Well, lucky for you that you almost drowned," he quipped, trying to lighten the moment.

Confused, you shook your head. "What? No, not at the lake. Back in high school," you explained, frustration bubbling inside as you attempted to jog his memory. Haechan fell silent, narrowing his eyes as he searched his mind. You watched as the gears slowly turned, his expression shifting from confusion to sudden clarity, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

"Chappy?!" he exclaimed finally.

You slapped his shoulder hard, fuming, “Yes, you asshole! Because of you, I had the worst 8th-grade year possible.”

Haechan’s mouth dropped open, and you could see the regret wash over his features. “I am so sorry. I never meant for that to happen,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

"Well, unlucky for you, that wasn't your only sin against me," you shot back, your tone sharp as you began to recount everything, filling in the blanks for him. By the time you finished revealing how many times he had sabotaged you throughout that year, the shocked expression on his face almost made you want to laugh—a bemused mix of disbelief and guilt that momentarily bridged the chasm of your shared past.

Another wave of realization crossed his face, and before you could ask if he remembered anything else, he said, "You must have hated me. You probably still do, huh?"

You answered honestly, “Maybe a little, but if there's anything I've learned from this trip, it's that you're not half bad,” offering him a small smile.

Haechan shrugged as he leaned back on his forearms. "Well, I guess that beats being a complete asshole," he replied, and you could see him processing all the new information. Suddenly, a devilish smirk appeared on his face, signaling that he was gearing up for another playful jab.

"If you think about it, those weren't really real kisses. They don't count," Haechan said, his gaze fixed on your lips. "If you want to have a real kiss, you'll need to practice. I can show you how, you know, so you'll know what you’re doing when you kiss Mark."

You hesitated, fully aware that Haechan's ideas were often terrible, but his playful intensity was hard to ignore. He leaned in closer, and as the air thickened with tension, you countered, "Well, if those aren't real kisses, then I still haven't had my first kiss. That means Mark still has a shot at being my first”

"Well, yes, but kissing me is different because we've already kissed. So any other kisses, especially ones done for practice, are null," Haechan argued, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That makes no sense," you replied, tilting your head in confusion. But then, with a breathless urgency, he added, "Kiss me." To your own surprise, you complied, drawn in by the moment's gravity, as the familiar spark ignited once more, blurring the lines between practice and something far more real. You didn’t know why you did it, but deep down, you blamed that feeling you had been trying to keep buried in the depths of your chest. As your lips met his, the warmth and flutter of emotions you thought were dormant surged back to life, leaving you breathless and questioning everything. The kiss stirred a whirlwind of confusion and desire, awakening a longing you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

You were awkward, that much was certain; you struggled to find the right angle, unsure where to place your mouth against his, yet you couldn’t deny the rush of warmth that spread through you at the contact. This kiss was different—driven and lingering, lasting longer than any before. You could feel his energy intertwining with yours, igniting something bold within you.

He pulled away slightly, a teasing smirk on his lips. “That’s how you kiss?” he quipped, and a wave of indignation washed over you. “Go to hell,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, but a newfound determination surged within.

With a fierce resolve, you leaned in again, pouring every ounce of passion you could muster into the kiss, playfully shoving him back until he was flat against the bed. You positioned yourself over him, straddling his waist, kissing him deeply again, letting go of all your inhibitions.

You pull away after a few more heated moments, breathless and eager for feedback. “How’s that? Better?” you ask, hopeful yet nervous.

“Hmmm, not bad, but you could use more tongue and you’re rushing,” he says.

“How am I rushing?” You retort, brows furrowing.

“You kiss like this; come here,” he replies, effortlessly pulling you back into another kiss. He bombards your lips with quick, short, frantic kisses and your shocked when he finally stops.

“No way!” you gasp, eyes wide. You kisses were definitely rushed and a little desperate. You cant help the way your cheeks heat up.

“Yes! So if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Mark, you better practice,” he says with a cheeky grin, leaving you flustered and eager to improve.

The fact that you could count your steamy interactions with Haechan on one hand while not being able to recall a single one with Mark left you vexed. It felt as if the universe was trying to convey something crucial to you—actually, scratch that; it was YELLING at you. Every thought for the past hour had revolved around Haechan.

His soft lips, that cute smile that recently made your heart race, the way his soft brown hair begged for your fingers to tangle in it, and the warmth he radiated that made you crave closeness. You wanted to scream, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, pulling you closer to Haechan despite the nagging logical part of your mind.

You tried to remember all the sweet moments with Mark—his laughter, the way he made you smile, and those cozy evenings together—but nothing worked to take your mind off Haechan. For hours, it felt like Haechan had consumed your thoughts completely, his playful smile and warmth overshadowing everything else.

Today's activity was hiking, and while everyone paired off, you decided it was time to step up your game. You needed stories to impress your roommate, Yeri, who doubted your chances with Mark. Spotting Mark alone with his planner, you approached him. "Hey Mark! Let’s partner up; I haven’t seen Haechan around."

“That actually works out, apparently Hyunjin got sick and is sitting out today.” Today might finally work out in your favor.

RIP to Hyunjin, but honestly, that was the best news you’d ever heard. As long as Haechan stayed out of the way, you could spend so much more time with Mark. About ten minutes later, everyone began the trail after checking in, and you felt a surge of excitement. Haechan ended up tagging along with Jeno and Jaemin, which you were grateful for, but a glance at his face made it clear he wasn't thrilled about you ditching him. Deep down, you hoped he would understand; after all, this was a chance you couldn't pass up.

Today was so perfect, it almost made you want to cry. The weather was lovely; despite the heat, a refreshing breeze blew often enough to keep you cool. As the group began to disperse, stopping to admire the scenery, it ended up being just you and Mark. As long as you didn’t glance back at the people about ten feet behind you, it felt like you and Mark were the only ones in the world. This was the most you had ever spoken with him, and soon a comfortable silence settled between you two. Your heart soared with every smile and laugh he shared, filling you with indescribable joy. This was right—this was where you were meant to be.

“You know you’re really cool; we have to hang out back on campus,” Mark says, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“You’re not just saying that, right? You promise to hang out with me?” He asks teasingly.

“I should be saying that to you; you’re not too cool to be seen with me, right?” you counterplayfully.

“Absolutely not,” he states with a tone of finality, and you believe him. Throughout the trail, you take plenty of photos of Mark and the beautiful surroundings, even snapping a few selfies together. Tomorrow will be your last day with him, and you’re certain that, above all else, you’ve gained a friend. As the sun sets and you walk back to camp with a lightness in your step, you spot Haechan engrossed in conversation with a girl who laughs at everything he says. Jaemin and Jeno are nowhere in sight, and unease settles in as you notice the way Haechan looks at her and how she stands too close for comfort. Mark notices the change in your expression and follows your gaze, a knowing smirk dancing on his face.

“Haechan, huh? I always thought you two would be cute together,” Mark says teasingly.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I don’t like Haechan!” You reply, trying to brush it off.

“I can practically see the jealousy radiating off you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” he laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you start to insist, but suddenly, a voice cuts you off.

“MARK!” Jaemin calls out, standing with Jeno and Chenle. “We’re heading to dinner! We can’t promise to save you a seat, so hurry up!”

“I’m coming!” Mark shouts back, then turns to you. “Are you coming?” With a heavy heart, you reply,

“Nah, I think I’m going to head back,” attempting to cling to the remnants of your joy. As Mark walks away, your resolve crumbles, and you fight back tears, feeling the sting of his words. The realization that Mark believed you had a crush on Haechan cuts deep, turning your emotions into a bitter swirl.

“Well, you know who else would make a cute couple? Me and you,” you think angrily, silently cursing him for misinterpreting your feelings.

You were livid. The emotions swirling inside you were a chaotic storm—jealousy, hurt, confusion—but anger was the one that cut through clearly and sharply. Anger was familiar; anger wasn’t confusing. Fueled by it, you stormed over to Haechan and interrupted his conversation with the pretty girl, who was hanging onto his every word. Without uttering a single word, you seized his arm and yanked him away from her. He followed you, bewildered but compliant.

You dragged him towards your cabin, deliberately ignoring the whoops and hollers from Jaemin and the others. Their laughter and commentary only fueled your resolve. They probably thought it was some melodramatic jealous lovers' spat. You didn’t care. Mark had only ever seen you as a friend, and after all these years, you were beginning to accept that he probably always would.

You burst into the cabin, startling Yujin, who was busy packing for tomorrow's departure. “I need a moment, Yujin. Do you think you could...” You start, but the words fade as she swiftly grabs her phone and exits. The door clicks shut behind her, sealing you in with Haechan. Finally releasing his arm, you spin around to face him with fire in your eye

"You! Always Lee fucking Haechan! Since the beginning of time, you've done nothing but get in my way! I'm so sick of you; stay away from me!" You scream, feeling the weight of your emotions lash out. You know it doesn't all make sense, but in the heat of the moment, you couldn't care less.

Haechan narrows his eyes, defensively replying, “I don’t know what your issue is, but I didn’t ask to be your partner if that’s what you’re mad about. If anyone should be upset, it’s me! You ditched me today and then snatched me away like some jealous girlfriend when I’m trying to get laid!” His annoyance only fuels your fire.

“Tragic! Try being cock-blocked for years!” You shoot back, the words spilling out as raw emotions clash in the air between you.

“Can’t cockblock if you never stood a chance,” he sneers, a smirk playing on his lips, but you let the insult roll off your shoulder—if he wants to bite deep, you can certainly bite back.

“And you think someone as pretty as her would have given you the time of day?” You mockingly laugh, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, in your dreams,” you add, relishing the way his expression shifts, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across his face as the words sink in, igniting the tension that crackles between you both.

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to me,” he says, and you open your mouth to retort, only to close it in confusion—did he just indirectly call you pretty? The realization swirls in your mind, making it hard to concentrate. “You want to know what you are? You’re selfish. You use me to get close to Mark and then just throw me away. You were supposed to be mine, you hear me? You think I want her? I want you!” he declares, closing the distance between you, and as his words sink in, your mind races to catch up, grappling with the intensity of what he just revealed and the undeniable heat of the moment.

“I want you,” he repeats. “Do you hear me?”

Your heart betrays you, racing faster than you'd like to admit, while your limbs feel unsteady and weak, like jelly under his intense gaze. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, a sensation more intense than anything you’ve felt before, and you wrestle with the surge of feelings you'd tried so hard to suppress. But when he reaches out, cupping your face gently, you don’t shy away; there’s no twisting in disgust. Instead, your eyes soften, and you lick your lips, anticipation thrumming in the air as he draws you in slowly, inching closer until you're just a breath apart, the tension palpable and electrifying.

“Tell me you want me,” he murmurs.

“I do,” you whisper back, your heart racing with each word.”

“Say it.” His insistence draws you in deeper.

“I want you.”

“And who am I?” he presses, seeking affirmation. He wants you to acknowledge that you’ve chosen him, not by chance or coincidence but by deliberate choice, over Mark.

“Lee Haechan,” you breathe, almost as if casting a spell. His name feels imbued with a kind of magic, because in that breath, he kisses you, and everything around you blurs into a mesmerizing haze. His lips move against yours—slow and deliberate, every sensation amplified, as if he’s savoring every second. His lips are warm and soft, brushing against yours with a tender urgency. The contact is electric, sending a shiver through you that pulses with each heartbeat.

As his lips continue to dance against yours, the softness of his touch is a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of the moment, creating a tantalizing balance of passion and delicacy. His hand, still cradling your face, provides a reassuring sense of grounding. The gentle parting of his lips was an open invitation to surrender to the kiss and let him slip his tongue inside your mouth. You could taste a hint of his mint gum as the kiss grows more fervent. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you even nearer.

You soon realized that Haechan’s kissing “lessons” would have never worked on Mark. Haechan had shown you exactly what he liked—how he wanted to be kissed, how he wanted to be touched. Through these lessons, he had sculpted you into the perfect match for him. You had become attuned to his desires because he had made you so—you were made uniquely for him.

Haechan was never going to help you win over Mark—how could he when the two of you went together?

You’re not quite sure when it happened, but suddenly you realize both your shirts have been pulled off, his warm skin pressing against your stomach and through your bra. His hands travel down your back, gripping your hips. As your feet shuffle, your back meets the mattress of Yujin’s bed, since you usually sleep on the top bunk. You know you’ll have to apologize to her later, but at the moment, thoughts of anything other than Haechan vanish from your mind.

“I’ve always wanted you; I never forgot you,” Haechan confesses, pulling away from the kiss. His lips find your skin again, kissing softly along your shoulder and down your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you—all night if I have to, until you forgive me,” he promises, gently pulling your bra down before lavishing kisses on your exposed skin. The quick nips of his teeth elicit small, involuntary moans from your lips, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“I don't know; it might be awhile before I can forgive you for the chappy bit,” you tease, your breath hitching with excitement.

He chuckles softly, his confidence shining through. “You can stay as mad as you want; just means I have more time to work my charm”

The laugh that you let loose turned to muffled moans as you bit your lip as he seductively licks his way down to your body until he's pulling at your shorts and underwear. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat already after from the warm summer air so his skin stuck to yours as he pressed your naked bodies against each other. He settles between your legs and nuzzles into your neck as he rocks his hips into yours. Each pass through your folds had his length more and more slick with your juices. You glide your fingers through the back of his head before you tug, pulling him, wanting to join your lips again, wanting to swallow his moans.

You could feel his desperation in the way he kissed you. He kissed you like he had been waiting a thousand years to get you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed you like he had missed you. He kissed you like you were supplying his last breaths. This is when you knew it.

It was never going to be Mark, not if Haechan had anything to say about iy.

You lock eyes before you shift your hips in a way that has him slipping deep inside of you. You wouldn't tell him but you find it amusing how, no matter how far back you looked, you always had strong feelings about him. Weather that was anger, irritation, or adoration. He always made you feel something. He made you feel.

Mark made you think.

Think about how you would get him to like you

Think about whether you would ever be enough for him

Thinking and obsession all over him

The way Haechan controls his hips as he drives deeply into you has you curling your legs around his waist. You couldn't describe the feeling as anything other than drunken ecstasy.

Your breaths intertwined, creating a melody of soft moans and whispered exhilarations that echoed in the stillness around you. The heat from your bodies mingled with the warm air of the early evening, amplifying the intoxicating blend of passion and desperation that lingered between you.

His gaze, filled with an intensity that made your heart race, locked onto yours as he captured your lips once more, deepening the kiss The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this shared moment of intimacy.

You could feel every pulse of pleasure radiating through you, each one more potent than the last, as he pressed deeper, his hands firm on your thighs, anchoring you to him as if he were afraid to let you slip away. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine, and you reveled in the way he made you feel so completely alive.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a sultry whisper that sent another wave of heat pooling within you.

All you could do was moan in response, arching your back and urging him on, your body craving more of him, more of this exhilarating connection that felt so right yet so incredibly wrong. You were aware of the uncharted territory you were embarking upon, but the allure was too potent to resist.

He shifted, locking you against the mattress as he picked up the pace, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling further into bliss. You surrendered to the sensations, to him, letting every ounce of pleasure wash over you like a tide. In that moment, the chaos of your thoughts faded, leaving only the euphoria of the now and the magnetic pull you felt toward him.

“Make me yours,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire as you searched his eyes for assurance.

His expression shifted, a mix of mischief and sincerity washing over his features. "You were always mine," he urged, his lips brushing against yours, igniting yet another spark of passion as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

As the world faded away, everything came down to this—two bodies entwined, two souls colliding in a moment that felt both inevitable and exhilarating. And as he filled you completely, you understood that this connection was one you had always longed for, a connection that set fire to your inhibitions and awakened a part of you that had long been dormant.

You had no idea how you would explain this to Yeri back at home—how you left on a mission to win Mark but managed to bring Haechan back. You thought back to the way he had made you feel—how vibrant and alive he made you feel. It was exhilarating and undeniably real, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“Is something funny?” Haechan murmured, looking down at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes, breaking you from your reverie.

“Just thinking about how hard it’ll be to explain all of this,” you chuckled softly.

He arched an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh? And what are you going to say?”

You shrugged, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to tell them that life has a way of surprising you.”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. “You could say you went for one guy, but the universe had other plans.”

You giggled, feeling the playful banter flow between you. It was easy, natural. Just like this connection you had found, so unexpected yet somehow right.

In that moment, nestled against him, you realized you didn’t care how you would explain it. You didn’t need a plan or a story—what mattered was how you felt right now, the joy and passion igniting your heart. You had gone out seeking one thing, and you had indeed found it—but in Haechan. You found something amazing.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!” 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[morbidlcve]

Saw that your requests are open so how about a drunk reader confessing her heart out for natasha not knowing they're already dating and stuff (or something along those lines) 👀

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 0.9k

CW: alcohol consumption, vomit, use of painkillers.

an: this was SO fun to write, i hope you like it!!

"One more!" you squeal excitedly, reaching for another shot lined up at the bar. It was girls' night out with you and your friends; you insisted Natasha should come, and you told her that the rest of your friends were bringing their other friends and partners, so she was allowed. "1,2,3!" one of your friends said, and you all downed the shot, sighing heavily as it burned its way down your throat. You jump around with the music that's playing in the background, pulling Natasha by the hand to the dance floor.

Time didn't seem like a concept to you as you partied your little heart out with Natasha, clinging onto her, your arms around her neck swaying back and forth, and your mind adjacent to your body. Natasha stuck by your side the whole night, her warmth always in your proximity; you were safe.

Drinks continued being placed in your hands, and soon enough, your world tilted on its axis, your stomach flipping. "Natty!! You whined, pulling her with you to the bathroom. Ever the lady, Natasha held your hair and rubbed your back gently, muttering soft words of comfort to soothe you.

You leaned back against the stall, staring at the recessed lights, your eyes fluttering shut, attempting to calm yourself down. Natasha had brought wipes with her and began to wipe your mouth, pulling out a new one for the running mascara around your eyes, then your face, to cool you down.

Feeling the cool wetness against your face, your eyes coming into contact with the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her soft eyes bore into yours, and her lips are turned into a slight smirk. "You're so pretty", you mutter, cupping her face.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "And you're far beyond intoxicated. Let's get you home", she replied, slowly pulling you to your feet; she wrapped her arm around your side, putting your arm around her shoulder, propping you up against her.

You and Natasha stumbled out onto the bustling street, trying to call a cab while trying to keep you upright. She finally managed to put you into the taxi; she climbed in next to you, noticing you fumbling with your seatbelt. She gently took it from your hands, clipping it in.

As the cab made its way through the streets of New York, your eyes swipe across the woman's features, admitting her to memory. Your hand works its way into hers, pulling her arm into your lap; you continue to stare at her, the many lights on the outer world illuminating her face and the unnatural beauty she seems to possess.

"Do I have something on my face moya lyubov'?" she smiles, turning to face you. You shake your head, "Do you have a girlfriend?" you slur, "Because you're too pretty not to have one."

She laughs lightly, "I do, and if my girlfriend finds out that other girls are trying to hit me up, I would be rather scared for them." She smiles, looking down at your hands entwined.

"Who is your girlfriend?" You ask, your cheeks flaming slightly, "Is she pretty?" you say, looking up at her from your head resting on your shoulder. She meets your eyes. "She's the most beautiful girl in the whole world. I don't think I could ever be without her", she admits to you, her thumb stroking over your knuckles.

Your eyes begin to flutter, and you end up falling asleep against her.

The cab pulled up around the corner of the tower- Natasha softly woke you up, her thumb stroking your cheeks. "We're here, love, wake up"- not wanting to give the driver Natasha's identity, given that he didn't seem to recognize her, she paid him and then took your hand guiding you out of the vehicle.

Natasha hobbled the rest of the distance with you to the tower, where she scanned her card and walked in with you clung to her. She called the elevator and waited whilst it came to pick the two of you up. Her hand stroked your head as you stood there still groggy from your near thirty minute sleep.

Once you got back to her room, she led you to the bathroom so you could go to the toilet, and whilst you did, she quickly changed into her PJs and met you washing your hands. "Sit down, pretty girl", she told you, pulling out your face wash slightly wetting her hands before rubbing the cleanser on your face, removing your makeup.

You just sat there, letting her clean you, putting your toner, serum, and lotion on, your arms wrapped around the back of her legs. She soon moved to brushing your teeth, standing you back up so you could spit out the toothpaste and rinse your mouth. She gave you two painkillers and made you drink a glass of water because she knows you're going to be "dying" tomorrow.

"Go get into bed," she said softly, kissing your nose. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, then came to join you. You were slowly falling back to sleep when she slipped in next to you. "I'm your girlfriend, aren't I?' you whisper, shuffling into her, wrapping your legs into hers. "Yes, you are, my love. Now go to sleep; you're going to need lots of it, " she mutters back, kissing your forehead and slowly drifting off once she hears your soft snores and even breathing.

thank you for reading!! <3 please leave feedback!!

(reqs are open for now!!)

[seradyn]

Yours To Bare, Mine to Cherish

Dragon!Sylus tries to push you away when old wounds flare up, causing him too much pain to trust you. You refuse to let him, and instead teach him how to ask for help, how to be vulnerable and not fear the lashes that follow. Basically: how to train your dragon to let you comfort him and give good massages.

As a chronic pain haver, I am forced to give all my blorbos chronic pain :) I’ve been working on this for SO LONG 😭 Still not over his myth so please enjoy us pampering our dragon 💕

Word count: 11,021. AO3 Link cause it's long

Important tags: gender neutral reader, no y/n, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, chronic pain!Sylus, cuddling and snuggling, massages, Dragon!Sylus, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, present!Sylus (you’ll see), arguing, Sylus x reader, Sylus x MC, canon compliant, canon-typical violence

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

Your dragon was in a foul mood.

It’d started when you decided you’d like to restore some of the old weapons Sylus had discarded haphazardly around his home. Swords, axes, spears and daggers laid in broken heaps throughout the cavern, each one a trophy plucked from his would-be assassins turned prey, he’d boasted. Impressive as they may have once been, though, they were now but piles of chipped rubbish, pushed up against the walls and out of the walkways, hardly spared more than a glance. A dragon has no use for such weaponry; their claws are daggers, their teeth swords, so the battlements remained as haughty decorations, a warning to all those who dared enter his domain, lest they meet the same fate.

One particular sword had caught your eye. Dragon’s Scourge, Sylus said the warrior had called it, sniffing derisively at the pretentiousness of such a name and the underwhelming performance of said blade. It had pierced neither scale nor flesh before the sorry sod had been strung up in the stalactites of the cave and left to rot, much like his weapon. Sylus claimed it wasn’t even worthy of straightening his bangs, dismissing the old thing, as he had with the daggers you once turned against him.

Upon further inspection, though, after returning from another successful raid, and bored beyond belief, you found the steel to be of decent quality. Being raised under the army’s instruction taught you how to recognize the mark of a good smith. Taught you to know the quality of the metalwork on your blades, how the weight felt as you gripped it, the feeling of it sliding through the air before hitting its mark. They taught you many things, as they groomed you to be their killing machine, while the lordlings sat getting drunk on their own false grandeur.

You hoped with all the blood you planned to spill with it, its steel would take up a new name, carved from crimson rivulets of the faithful. You were thinking something along the lines of Justitia’s Scourge, or maybe even Human’s Scourge, just to rub salty irony into their wounds. But that would have to wait, you thought as you scrutinized it, until it wasn’t caked in rust from centuries of disuse, and a proper whetstone had been taken to its dull edges.

It took a full day and night of work to restore it, though you now reaped the fruits of your labor, watching with a satisfied smile as you turned the blade to catch stray beams of moonlight through the porous cave ceiling. A vinegar bath overnight had peeled off the old rust, and with the tools Sylus had snagged for you from the armories you’d torched, you were able to scour and polish the sword the following day. By nightfall, the edges were properly sharp again, a few experimental swings showed it was ready for battle once more. A bolt of excitement ricocheted down your spine, tingling to your fingertips as you thought of showing the rebirthed blade to Sylus, of cleaving pious flesh from bone to earn it its new name.

It had been at least three days since you had seen your dragon, however. He left you to your devices when you began work on your little pet project, when you’d shooed him out of your chambers to prepare a ‘surprise’. He seemed less than thrilled with the idea, if the downward curl of his lips was any tell, but he’d nevertheless entertained your whims and left you be. You were grateful to have his eyes off you for a day or two, but now that you’d finished, his absence reverberated through the yawning emptiness in your chest, where his claws had carved a dragon shaped hole. Normally, he often lingered nearby, watching curiously as you tried to climb out of his cave, or polished his coins out of sheer boredom, or even while you ate your meals, made of sparse rations stolen from soldier barracks. You hated it, at first, until you realized he didn’t do so out of malice. He was but a shepherd, watching with intrigue as his sheep tried to jump the fence of its enclosure, wondering if it would ever have the strength to clear it, or if it was doomed to an early trip to the slaughterhouse, ushered there on broken legs.

But now you’d seen neither sight nor heard sound of him, and you couldn’t help but miss him. If he wasn’t nearby, you could usually still hear him deeper in the cave, the clinking of coins as he moved about, or the faint rustling of his scales gliding across stone. The gust of wind from a flap of his impressive wings as he took off. The sword was complete the previous evening, and yet the cavern remained noticeably silent. As if the mountain held its breath, anxiously waiting for his return. The mark he left on your neck throbbed, pulsed, beckoning you to him as the fisherman’s lure calls the guppies from the safety of the school.

This wasn’t like him.

Leaving the blade in your chambers; it wouldn’t do to approach an agitated dragon with such a thing; you began to make your way through the winding tunnels, deeper into the darkness. His own quarters, the ones you’d once slunk into with thoughts of dragon eyes and dripping red, were in the heart of the mountain, where the sun didn’t dare reach, and veins of buried magma spread like spiderwebs underfoot, keeping it pleasantly warm. Sylus made it clear his distaste for sunlight, and dragons ran naturally hot; all you need do was follow as the darkness stretched deeper into the earth, down the spiral staircase in the heart of his nest, as the air grew warm and charged.

You descended the last crude steps, carved by his own claws, landing with a thud in his chamber. His overflowing coffers, now teeming with the prizes from your exploits, glittered in the dull orange glow of the candles, a kaleidoscope of technicolor treasures. You felt a wave of satisfaction as you gazed upon your additions to his hoard, proof of your enacted vengeance in every pillaged gem. But less so the jewels, you were pleased with the tapestries, the blankets and pillows now strewn about his cave, after you’d bemoaned the harshness of the stone against your skin. You had no scales to protect you, after all. Sylus thought you odd for requesting things so mundane, but he acquiesced, if only to sate your growing desires.

And there you found him, sat amongst a pile of pillows on his ‘perch’, as you’d lovingly called it, a dark shape against the speckled constellations of his gold. The raised stone dais, where he often lazed about when not with you, had not escaped your demands to make his home more accommodating for a human. A puffy white blanket now laid over the old rock, stolen straight from an Oracle’s bedchamber. You’d tucked ivory pillows with gold tinsel into the corners, to rest his head or back against, you’d reasoned, but Sylus only scoffed. He made no move to stop you though, and you weren’t blind to how he snuggled into the cushions when he thought you weren’t looking, his tail flicking and eyes closed like a contented, oversized cat.

You came up short, however, when you fully took in the state of your dragon. Sitting up, his back turned to you, he was curled in on himself, a taloned hand gripping his tensed shoulders, his tail draped over the edge, twitching restlessly. He hung his head, hiding his face from view, his body heaving with faint pants that echoed in the tight space. Next to him, the once pristine and well kept bedding had been shredded, huge gashes running across the delicate fabric, a plume of feathery down decorating his bed and the cave floors where the stuffing had been ripped out.

The mark on your neck flared to life at seeing him, and you instinctively clasped a hand over it. You could feel the outline of his bite under your fingers, his reminder of your deal, a stamp and signature on your contract. You let out a stuttered breath as the ache spread underneath your skin, consuming, tearing, flaying your flesh open with phantom fire. It burned.

You’d never seen Sylus like this before, never felt the mark throb quite as sharply. It tended to hurt, when his draconic instincts expressed themselves, when you felt him crave mortal souls, but that was a feeling you’d grown familiar with. You knew it, felt it, and discarded it, the mark and his desire tampered down as quickly as it had roared to life. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the ache deep in your chest that cried devour, devour, consume, it’s yours, even as it filled you with a sense of wrongness. Sylus never acknowledged it, never hinted that his desire grew in twine with yours, even as you felt the reflection of it in yourself. He swallowed it down, and with it, the mark would go dormant again, like nothing had happened, his stoic expression no less tamed than before.

The pain it radiated now was so different. You felt it travel along the highways of your nerves, burning and burning and burning its way down your spine, through your limbs, all the way to your toes, where it felt like your meat was being pulled from your bones, ripped and sliced and stabbed. You shuddered, a harsh exhale pushed from your lungs as you suppressed the urge to scream, to rip into your own flesh to find the source of your pain, and carve it out. You’d felt a distant ache from the mark as you traveled deeper into the mountain, but standing in front of Sylus, it was nearly unbearable.

Was Sylus…Could he feel it too?

Carefully, on gentle padded steps, you approached him. You made no attempt to hide the sound of your footfalls, you were sure he already knew you were there, if your previous meetings were any indication. However, he was surely irritated, the jerky movements of his tail confirmed as much, and you had no desire to exacerbate it by startling him. You’d been on the receiving end of it before, when you teased him too much too often, or when you demanded he bring you something particularly ridiculous, like the fuzzy mountain cat that now roamed his domain with you. You’d not seen it in a while either though, it could likely sense the ire of its master, and decided it was better to simply stay out of sight, lest it become collateral.

“Sylus?” you broached softly, as you neared his place on the dais. Even the quiet whisper of his name felt too loud in that space, where the tension grew thick, made the air scrape across your suddenly dry throat.

His reply was a deep, rumbling growl, coursing its way out of the depths of his chest and echoing on the cave walls. You stopped in your tracks, eyes going wide as the sound made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Leave me be,” he spoke, and it sounded nothing like the smooth velvet of his voice, tinged with tender fondness and amusement that you’d grown to adore over the long months. No, this was the voice of a dragon - one filled with seething flames to scorch the earth, make his bed of ash and rubble. A fury so potent, the heavens trembled in its presence.

This wasn’t like him at all. 

“Sylus, what is wrong?” You asked, your worry spreading like mold throughout your body, choking you, covering up the pain from his mark, even as it swelled, surged, pushed into your fingertips.

“I am in no mood for your games. Leave.” He hissed. Actually hissed. His tail lashed, gouging out shallow grooves in the rock below his perch, the pointed barb extending and retracting. Poised and ready, like a scorpion’s, right before the kill.

In all the time you’d known him, all the months of shared hardships, he had never spoken to you like that.

Not even when you both dreamed of tearing the other apart.

“What is going on with you?” You breathed, not bothering to hide the worry in your voice, your heart. 

“It is no concern of yours,” he threw over his shoulder, and it struck like a sword in your chest.

How could he say that, after spending months with you, helping you, fighting alongside you against a world that abhorred you and him?

How could he say that, as the only person who stood by you now? And you, the only one left who stood by him?

“Of course it’s my concern,” you said, and you wondered if he could hear the hurt in your voice. “Sylus, what is-”

“Have you lost your hearing?” He snarled, cutting you off as his voice grew louder. “I thought I made myself clear. Leave. Now.”

You stared at him, stunned, as Sylus seethed vitriol at the tender place inside you, where you’d planted the seeds of affection, adoration, where they timidly poked their tender leaves out. As you felt them wither, their crumbling stalks easily pulled out, shredded in apathetic claws.

Had you made him angry, somehow? Crossed a line he forgot to draw in the sand, and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Your heart kicked, lurching at the thought. Had your dragon finally grown tired of you?

But, as you looked at him, tensed up and refusing to look at you, your intuition cracked like a whip, and you realized what he was actually doing. Your skin rippled, and you felt a steady stream of anger pump into your veins, to match his own, where once was only worry. You’d worked so hard, tending that garden, to grow something other than bloodlust and hatred inside of you. But now they came back, like weeds you could never fully eradicate, twisting around your fragile heart.

Did Sylus truly think he could scare you away so easily? Intimidate you into abandoning him, so effortlessly? Did he forget that you were not the same helpless little thing he rescued from the Abyss? He said it himself; you’d grown your own horns, when you vowed vengeance on those who damned you, and vowed your soul to him in tandem. You weren’t just going to let him destroy whatever it was you two had built together. You hated the thought so much, it filled your mouth with the acrid taste of bile.

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly, planting your feet. If he wanted you to leave, he’d have to throw you out. The gnawing worry and anger, coupled with the pain still writhing under your skin, made the thought so unpalatable you wanted to peel yourself open, let him consume your soul if only to let him feel the tender emotions that enveloped you whenever you thought of him, when you looked at him.

“Then you are a fool,” he sneered, and you felt your hopes being snuffed out. “Begone.”

“Sylus, let me help-”

“I need no help.” He spat, the final word tasting foul on his tongue. His tail flexed, muscles rippling as he drove it into the ground, a clean puncture straight through the stone, pebbles scattering across the floor.

You breathed through your nose, trying very hard to stop yourself from saying ‘yes, you do’, bluntly to his face, or it may anger him more than your continued presence already was. You knew when to hold your tongue, despite what he may think.

“Please, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” You begged, hating how desperate you sounded. It reminded you too much of when you first met, when he held your life so easily in his hands. But, strangely, you found you hated his current state even more, could stomach begging like a peasant if it meant you could get through to him.

“Do you truly wish to test my benevolence again, sorceress?” He ignored your question, saying the nickname he normally spoke with such fond amusement, filled with contempt and repulsion. Spoke it the way the Judicators did, as they condemned you, sentenced you to die. As they took you away from everything you knew and loved, and made you watch as they reduced your world to rubble, made you watch as the only people you ever knew chanted for your execution, rejoiced at your damnation.

The extent of this transgression, this intentional cruelty made your skin grow hot, your brows drawing down as nothing but rage bubbled up and shot out of your heart like lava, a volcano erupting and eating away at the worry there. How dare he? How dare he speak to you like that, after all you had been through together? After you blocked blows, fought off the wrath of the holy army that aimed for his vulnerable flank while you raided their temples, their armories, their barracks. You’d taken hits for him, gladly, if it meant sparing him pain, even if it meant feeling the wounds twice; once for when your blood spilled, and again when Sylus admonished you for being reckless, for worrying about him, even if he inevitably patched you up, told you to be more careful in that quiet way he did. After you learned to enjoy what slivers of peace you could find together, how he took you to the night markets, bought you anything your hands touched, and tried to fight the smile that curled his lips as you covered him in cheap, counterfeit jewelry, in leather pouches that he would never use, but you liked the designs of, or that set of old red keys that’d been turned into an ornament, simply because it matched his eyes.

Did all of that mean nothing to him, for him to treat you this way? Treat you worse than he did when you were nothing more than a meal to him?

Part of you was so angry and hurt, you wanted to just do as he said. Leave him to his devices, and let him suffer in solitude. Tell him to never ask for your help again, since he clearly didn’t need it. 

You turned, took a step away from him, fighting back the stinging in your eyes. You stopped, your breath catching, as your heart stuttered, like your chest was caving in around it, crushing it. Your vision swam, and you clamped your eyes shut, as you tried to hold onto your anger at him for speaking so cruelly to you. At hurting you in a way you hadn’t been sure you were still capable of hurting. But all you could see were those moments when he showed you the kind of creature he really was. Those moments like when you sang to him on the cliff, and he looked at you with affectionate awe, promised to buy you an organ so you could play it properly for him. The gentle lull of his voice as he carried you away from the tavern in Tarus City, retelling the play to you when you complained you’d have nightmares if he didn’t. How he snuggled with you at night when you had them anyway, because the thought of him mutilating himself was so much worse than whatever you could’ve imagined was the reason for the end to that awful, awful play. How you two poured over maps and star charts, planning your next assault while joking and teasing each other. Smiling, laughing.

Your heart screamed, as the dragon shaped hole he’d carved hemorrhaged, filled your chest with so much blood, you felt like choking.

As much as you wanted to be enraged at him, force him to suffer for hurting you so thoroughly…you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away, even if it meant your own destruction. The prospect hurt so much more than the words he used like daggers.

You straightened, hardening your resolve, tucking your anger away for later. You turned back, marched over to the dais. If Sylus refused to see reason, then you would make him understand his own foolishness.

“This has nothing to do with your benevolence, or lack thereof,” you snapped, proud of yourself when your voice came out even, unaffected by the anger and revitalized concern that now mixed into a potent concoction inside you. “It has everything to do with you being too afraid to admit you need help!”

What you thought before was a snarl was nothing compared to the throaty, guttural angry and inhuman sound that burst from his throat at that, echoing around the both of you like the detonating of a bomb. He twisted violently, pinning you with his eyes, the ill omen of those ominous pools of ruby rose. They crackled like a storm, his nose crinkled and lip curled in utter contempt at your accusation. His next words came out as a barely contained roar.

“I am a dragon-”

“Indeed,” you cut him off, raising your voice to match him, unflinching in the face of his utter childishness. “In which case you can surely stomach telling me why you’re so upset.”

He paused, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before he quickly wiped the expression off with a scowl, turning away from you as his tail continued to flick. You stared at the back of his head, crossing your arms, daring him to try to deny it again. You always did like a challenge, he knew this about you. You weren’t going to leave, if for no other reason than the fact that only he could soothe the burning of the mark, douse the fire that tore through you, even as you stood there meeting his anger head on. The truth was, though, that you still cared about him. You weren’t sure if that would ever change, now. Even when he was being insufferable.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Everything hurts,” he whispered through gritted teeth, curling in on himself further.

Your heart dropped at that, the confirmation that the fire in your muscles was also in his, the untouchability of him in your mind shattering.

Sylus always seemed so invincible; he shrugged off the blows from the army as if they were nothing, he stopped arrows with a flick of his wrist, rended battalions with a swipe of his tail. A grimace and a stare, his right eye roaring to life sending whole squadrons into madness, howling as they tore each other apart. You’d yet to see anything perforate his impenetrable scales, save for the greatsword nestled somewhere deep in your chest. Even then, when you first found him in the depths of the abyss, looking up at the sheer size of his true form, all rippling scales, muscle, and teeth, he had seemed more annoyed than anguished, while he sat ran through with the sword, with his massive scarlet wings cocooned in chains. He watched you as the lion does the mouse, waiting for the inevitable, for you to wrap your hands around the hilt, for the blade to slide smoothly out from where it was implanted in his chest, to set him free from the prison of your ancestor’s making.

He seemed so…almost boyish now, in the near fetal position, tail flicking, flicking. And what a strange sight it was. Something filled you at it, boiling and prickly thorned, wrapping around your heart and squeezing, pulsing along with the mark on your neck. It took a moment to recognize it as offense. Offense at seeing your untouchable, mighty dragon, who scoffed at attempts for his slaughter, who laughed as you tried to procure his eye, now besought by something intangible, something which you could not name, that you could not know. Something that your daggers, your swords, all the weapons in the caves could not split away from, could not heal the jagged edges that cut him, and thus cut you.

Through the fire seeping into your veins, though, the only train of thought that remained on course, reverberating through your head was why, why, why is your dragon in pain?

What could be causing your dragon such agony?

You wracked your brain, trying to think if you had missed something, if he had hidden any injuries from your last raid. But the Justitiaurs fell as easily as they always had; tearing each other apart with one look from his glowing red eye. You two were together when you stormed the resident Oracle's chamber, cut his throat with your daggers, and watched his blood paint the ivory tiles a color that matched the gem in Sylus’s chest. Non had presented more than an inconvenience to you both, more like fleas squashed between your fingers. He’d claimed his invulnerability, and proven it just as easily; what could have possibly inflicted such debilitating pain upon him?

Though, you quickly realized it didn’t matter so much the why or how of what Sylus was feeling. What mattered was that he felt it, and you didn’t want him to be feeling it, regardless of the fact his pain was reflected into you.

You gently padded to the dais, watching his twitching tail as you sat on the edge of the coarse stone, brushing aside loose feathers. Here, you caught a glimpse of his face; his nose scrunched, lip slightly curled to reveal pointed fangs, and eyes clamped shut by furrowed brows. Your heart plummeted like a stone thrown in a mirrored lake, lost in darkness’ depths, seeing the pain etched so clearly onto his marble face, disrupting the collected, bored expression he always wore.

“Where does it hurt?” Your voice came out soft, soothing. Gracing the air as a brush of fingers on his skin, a kiss of petals.

“Everywhere,” he huffed, exasperated. He shook his head violently, his claws bearing down on his delicate skin, just shy of breaking the surface and drawing blood. Your fingers flexed, wanting to pull the deadly talons away from his shoulder, away from himself, but you refrained. Patience was key, with a predator so close to snapping.

“Where does it hurt most?” 

A growl reverberated out of his throat, a discontented purr. He peaked open his eyes, though he did not look at you, his gaze remained fixed on the shredded blankets, the frayed threads loosened by his rough scales and talons. You simply waited, for the waves of pain to abate, for him to find his voice again. He let out a heavy exhale, closing his eyes.

“…My tail, my shoulders, and my back.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, gaze flitting to each area as he listed them off. Outwardly, you could see no damage to them, the scales glistened a burned amber shade from the sconces scattered about, his mortal flesh was smooth and unblemished, save for the marks his claws had already begun to leave from gripping his shoulder so tightly. Your curiosity burned with the desire to ask questions - had he been poisoned, perhaps? Was he sick? But again, you reminded yourself that questions could come later. Healing must come first.

“Give me your tail.” You outstretched your hand to him, palm up expectantly.

His eyes opened again, darted to you, the deep, preternatural growl rumbling in his throat. You held his stare, unwavering in his clear attempts to dissuade you.

“This is none of your concern.” He looked away, shaking his head again to try to rid himself of the nagging sensations plaguing him.

You frowned. “I know,” you said, making grabby motions with your hand. “Now stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

His growl transformed back into a hiss as he shot you a glare. When you, again, didn’t back down from his challenge, he let out a disgruntled snort. Spitefully, like a child angry about being caught stealing his mother’s pastries, he turned his back to you, letting his long, lithe tail plop gracelessly onto your lap. You let out a light ‘oof’ as the weight settled across your thighs, effectively pinning you down. It reminded you of when he effortlessly threw the dagger out of your hand and pulled you to him with the lean appendage, like you were weightless, like it required barely a thought. You couldn’t say you were surprised, as you admired it, your hands tentatively brushing along the top and sides, feeling, searching as you thought about how to help him deal with the pain.

You weren’t sure if what you had in mind would work, but you were willing to try, if it meant he had a chance at relief. You were taught some basic medicine in the Sanctuary; as was mandated by the army. Basic first aid, how to treat a wound, what was reasonable to handle on the field and what required a doctor. Nothing too sophisticated.

But most importantly; how to handle basic muscle aches and soreness.

You decided to start at the tip of his tail, the impressive spike and retracting barbs you had enviously stared at more than once. You gently took it in your hands, holding it steady as it attempted to twitch out of your grasp. Sylus let out another angry snort, but held still when you refused to let go. Observing the lithe appendage, you realized the end was forged of bone, and beyond your help, but on the underside, the scales slowly faded into a soft, leathery underbelly. You felt along it, slowly moving up, using your fingers and the heel of your palm to gently push on it until finally, you felt it; a knot of twisted flesh just below the surface.

Being as tender as possible, you held his tail firmly as you began to grind your palm into the center of the knot in tight circles, to loosen and soothe the ache there. It was definitely painful; Sylus growled, his tail jerking to wrest it from your grasp, but you simply tightened your grip, not letting him get away. He slowly relaxed, as you felt his flesh detangle, pushing bigger circles into his scales until it lost its shape, molding into the rest of his powerful, healthy muscles. Sylus let out something like hum, clearly pleased, his body starting to relax under your fingers.

When you were satisfied the knot had been thoroughly worked out, you moved on to the next section of his tail, where the pointed barbs faded into smooth ringlets of scales, rippling from half formed, stubbed spikes. You carefully coiled the finished section around you, not wanting to pull his tail by letting it dangle off the dais, and began running your fingers around the base of his spines. The ones closer to the base of his tail were thinner, sharper, little knives diving out of his scales. In contrast, these ones were wide, dull, and short, as if they hadn’t fully formed yet. You wondered if Sylus was even younger than you first thought, feeling the ache of a body that wasn’t done metamorphosing, hadn’t finished growing all the scales and spikes dragons were known for. You wondered if that was why he ached, why his muscles had tensed into knots.

You gently pushed your fingers into his scales, into the mountains and valleys of the contours of what made his draconic skin. You felt how they dipped, like city streets that snaked through clusters of buildings, made a network of highways where you could see the sky, feel the wind on your face. You felt how they rose again, like shockwaves pulsing away from the origin of an explosion, as you pressed your palm into another knot. Sylus grunted, his tail curling of its own volition, as you soothed his muscles. It was different, from the human skin you’d practiced on, but so similar, too. His scales were warm and rough to the touch, but underneath, his muscles steadily smoothed out, like you’d been taught these massages would do.

When you were done there, you had to scoot closer to him, to massage the last part of his tail. The finished parts curled around you, inviting you closer, keeping you in place. You worked around the magnificent spines that curved toward his back, the deadly weapons smooth to the touch, but unmistakably sharp, as you brushed your hand around them. The scales here were bumpy, like permanent gooseflesh pebbled his scales, though the heat radiating off him proved otherwise. You ran your hands up and down, spreading your fingers, rubbing circles and indistinguishable shapes into the peaks and valleys, the bumps and ridges that made the topography of his reptilian skin. You wrapped one arm under him, cradling him gently, so gently, as you massaged the place under the fin-like protrusions that jutted out from the sides of his tail. A deep rumble broke the stillness, and you smiled, when you realized Sylus was doing the dragon equivalent of a purr. His head lowered, relaxing, as you rubbed the leathery membrane of the frills between your fingers, smoothed over the spiked ridges where it turned back into polished scales.

You leaned back, relishing in satisfaction as his tail curled further around you, without pain, without a grunt or grimace. It quickly faded though, as you looked at him, tilting your head appraisingly. Tracing your eyes over his bejeweled back, how the red streaks flowed from it, slithered around his body and rejoined at the gem in his chest. He said his back and shoulders hurt too, didn’t he?

You weren’t quite done, then.

You angled yourself towards him, his tail still in your lap, holding you in place. You laid your hands on his back, the lower part of his shoulder blades, spreading your fingers across the smooth planes of mortal flesh. They tensed at your touch on instinct, drawing his shoulders together, before they relaxed, surrendered to you, trusted you. His tail flicked once, intrigued, before you started slowly rolling your hands, from his shoulders to his lower back, up and down, like using a rolling pin, kneading out dough with your hands. The rumbling purr grew louder, echoed through the cave, his back beginning to arch slightly to give you better access, his head tilting in bliss. You didn’t bother hiding the smirk that spread across your face. Instead, you had to suppress a shiver as you marveled at the feeling of his skin beneath your hands, so delicate and fragile and beautiful, like what you thought holding a newborn babe would feel like. You moved your hands in, towards the cord of scales that traveled down his spine, untangling the knots you found there too. You rolled your shoulders, the pain that burned and ripped through you settling, easing as you soothed Sylus’s ache.

Once his back was done, you leaned forward, chest nearly flush with it, intent on giving his shoulders proper care next, when you yelped as Sylus fell back into you in a heap, his tail sliding out beneath him. You stared at him in disbelief as he settled in your lap, purring, ever purring, his face completely relaxed as he nuzzled it into your chest. His eyes were closed, and he let out a long, tired sigh, as he made himself comfortable, reclining into you like a chair.

“More,” he mumbled, when your hands didn’t return to him, didn’t continue his massage. Against your will, a bark of laughter erupted from your chest, watching the big, scary dragon melting on top of you. His warmth soaked into you, your skin a greedy sponge, and you let yourself just relish in it, for a moment. The outer caves, where your chambers were, got so cold at night, where the lifeblood of the mountain didn’t flow. He brought you blankets, wrapped you in silk, velvet, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the heat that surrounded him, an aura of warmth that kept the fire in his heart, his belly burning. You held him in a tighter embrace, as you were reminded of how much you missed him, how you shivered in the plush nest of bedding you made, how unbearably cold it was, absent of his warmth for the past few days.

Sylus wriggled, grunting unhappily when you didn’t immediately comply. You snapped out of your stupor, chuckling, impatient dragon, before putting your hands on his wide, muscular shoulders, beginning to slowly roll them in your palms. His left one was much harder to work on, the scales rising up like jagged peaks, the pointed ends barely kept from your tender flesh. You did your best to work around them, pressing your fingers into the canyons where the scales parted, rolling the heel of your palm where they met his neck. He huffed, rolling his shoulders as the knots came loose, as the soreness he felt dissolved like warm fog, the reflection of it in your own shoulders draining.

When the taut string that held his shoulder blades together finally went lax, your hands traveled downward, beginning to delicately caress his arms, over the backs of his hands, before ascending again. An achingly tender touch that your caregivers at the Sanctuary used to sooth you with when you were a child, the faintest ghosting of fingers across skin, a touch so sickeningly sweet it made you want to weep. Sylus’s breath hitched, as you shared this delicate caress with him. He let out a shuddered sigh, turning his hands and opening them, so you could slide your fingers all the way over his wrists, down to his palms, and travel back again.

You both let the moment stretch, let the silence bloom between you, save for the occasional purr or sigh. You watched him, as you tended to his pain, how his back pushed against you with every breath, how his eyes were closed in sheer euphoria as he rested his cheek on your chest. You stared at him as you felt emotions build in your chest, push on your tender ribs, your heart clenching. Happiness that he was no longer in pain, anguish that he felt it at all. Joy that you were able to comfort him when he needed it most, despair that you both let him suffer for so long, by not seeking the other out.

I will always come to your aid.

You vowed it, to yourself, in the deepest recess of your soul. You promised it, to him, in the darkest echelons of your heart. And as much as you would’ve liked to let the silence last, let this feeling of your heart leaping as a blissful doe across a grassy, sun dappled knoll, with your beloved dragon in your lap, there was only one way to ensure such a promise remained intact.

You kissed his hair to smooth him, the delicate silver strands tickling your lips. “Sylus?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remained closed.

“What caused you such pain?”

His contented half smile vanished, brows furrowing. He opened his beautiful eyes, averted his gaze from you, tail swaying in renewed agitation. You worried for a moment that he may not answer you, or worse, try to part from you again.

“Before I was imprisoned in the Abyss, many sought me out. To claim glory in my slaughter, to be the one who finally killed the fiend. I was accosted by armies, whole battalions.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “They were…harder to repel, when I was younger.”

You closed your eyes. You closed your eyes, against the sinking feeling in your chest, against the despair that crested, flooded you. You could see it. The mark pulsed, and you stared out of eyes that were not your own. You heard a dragon's roar, a familiar sound, as you watched a writhing, living ocean of gleaming steel bound down the hilltops towards you. Massive, scaled hands stretched away from you, swatting at the bright shapes as they threatened you with their polished swords, their axes, their spears. You screamed, as they dug into your arms, your flank, arrows embedded into your wings, your neck. A flash of red streaked across your vision, a sword made of blood descending on you, aimed at your heart.

You shook your head, the images swirling together in blotches of color, condensing, precipitating back into a picture of a dark, black cave. You felt steel along your limbs, pinching, pulling and locking you in place. You thrashed, snarling and snapping your jaws at the chains as your muscles ignited with pain from the wounds that never got proper care. But the chains did not yield against the thrashing of your head, the beating of your wings, your lashing tail. A sword made of blood, holding you in place.

You opened your eyes. You opened your eyes, and looked down at the tormented creature in your lap, who trusted you enough to show you his soft underbelly (even if it required some coaxing), the tender parts that took the blade so easily. And what a monumental feat that was, for a dragon, you realized. For a being whose very existence depended on being the strongest, on having the will to fight against a world that longed for his head from the first moment he opened his eyes. Vulnerability was weakness, and weakness was death. Cruelty was a shield against the swords, bows, axes of cruelty that were wielded against him first. He’d snapped at you, before, as a wolf does when caught in a snare, baring fangs and snarling even as the kind hunter tries to free him. Tries to restore his freedom, before he could finish gnawing his leg off, because what is a leg compared to the boundless sky, a forest that stretches and stretches into a pinprick of darkness, or an ocean that reaches so far, it touches the horizon with blue gold fingers?

You rested your chin atop his head, his horns framing your face. Your hands kept moving, spreading your fingers, closing them, down the ridged scales on his arms, back again over soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

Sylus huffed, brushing off the heaviness that cloaked you at his admission. “You’ve no reason to be sorry.”

You squeezed him. “And yet I am, for what my kin did to you.”

He hummed, clearly still in disagreement, but letting the matter drop. He adjusted his position, getting more comfortable in your lap, snuggling against you. You watched him fondly while you bore the full brunt of his weight without protest, shielded him from the pain as best you knew.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go down to the market and get you some lotion for the soreness.” You suggested, not stopping your hands from moving across his skin.

He hummed again, thinking on it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” You tilted your head at him.

Sylus took a deep breath. “…This is enough.” He said, his voice heavy with emotions he was too prideful to share.

“…Okay,” you said, because you trusted him, now, to be honest with you about this. Trusted him not to push you away when pain made him feel weak, made him want to hide in the shadows.

Even with this newfound trust, though, you gently cupped his chin in your hand, turning his face so he’s forced to look at you. So he could not claim ignorance as his blood-red eyes took in the conviction on your face, in your words, spoken with genuine, honest devotion.

“Come to me next time you’re feeling like this.”

He stared at you. You held his gaze, holding him softly, but firmly, not letting him pull away from the words you needed him to hear from you, and what you needed to hear from him. Would grow sick with worry, if you didn’t.

He looked away, staring up at your lovely neck, his teeth marks in your skin. He nodded, once, before meeting your eyes again.

“Very well.”

You let out a tense breath, your shoulder blades easing. You let go of his face, but he was quick to grab your hand. He held it up, turned his face into your wrist, nuzzling it, his lips softer than the purest, freshest wool as they pressed into your skin.

“Only if you promise to hold me, as you have today, when I do.” He pushed your palm into his cheek, his hot breath fanning down your arm as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Your heart swelled, felt like it might burst from affection, an adoration that it felt too small to contain. You swallowed around the lump in your throat those thick emotions formed, as he asked you to be his safety, his comfort.

“Always, my dragon.”

Sylus smiled, buried his face in your palm. He placed another gentle kiss on the outside of your wrist, before returning your hand to his cheek.

“How did you know to come to me?” He asked softly.

You paused, tapped his cheek to make sure he was looking at you. Your hand moved, his gaze following it, as you brought it up to press against the imprint of his teeth marks in your neck.

“Because…I felt it, too.”

He stared at you, with those perfect rubies, traveling across your face. His eyes flicked between the mark and your face, before his nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from you again.

“That wasn’t my intention, when I gave it to you,” he said, some of his irritation creeping back at his displeasure.

You let out a heavy breath. You suspected as much, weren’t sure he even knew you caught traces of his own desires through it. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No.” His tail swayed unhappily. “You should be angry with me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were angry at him, still. Just not for that. “I can handle the pain,” you said, instead of admitting your hidden feelings.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He looked up at you, his rose colored eyes filled with…remorse?

“I am willing to, if it’s for you.” You leaned forward, brushing your lips over his temple to reassure him.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disdain. “Humans are foolish,” he hissed, though there was no heat in his words.

You grinned down at him. “One of our many charms.”

He snorted, and you felt how his lips quirked up in a smile. He relaxed again, closing his eyes, your reassurances a powerful balm for his soul. His tail stopped swaying, curled around your ankle instead to hold you closer.

“I am still mad at you, though.”

He stilled, his expression falling. He opened his eyes again, caught your gaze, puzzled.

“I care about you. A lot,” you said, hardening your expression, so he knew you were serious. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you speak to me like you just did without any consequences.”

Understanding colored his features. He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he admitted quietly. He slowly lowered your hand from his face, guiding it to his chest, to the gem embedded over his rapidly beating heart. You brushed your fingers across the smooth surface, traced the edges of each uneven, polished side. He engulfed your hand with his massive claw, closed both of them over his heart. “I will make it up to you. Anything you desire, it’s yours.”

You hummed, considering his offer, letting him open your hand again, lean down to run his nose across your palm. Watched him, as his forked tongue parted his lips, licked a soft stripe across your skin so sweetly, you may have wondered if you imagined it, were your eyes not locked on him. Not an apology, but perhaps the closest a dragon could come to the concept.

You smiled.

“You’re going to have to be an obedient little dragon for a long time to make up for it.”

Sylus stilled, his talons tightening around your open palm. Then he shifted, met your eyes with his, a toothy grin meeting your own.

“I am at your mercy, O great sorceress.”

🐉 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🐉

Sylus is in a foul mood.

A deal had gone belly up, that he’d been working on for weeks. Weeks of dealing with the sniveling underlings of a business partner he coveted, whom nearly pissed themselves whenever he spoke, of long, boring negotiations that got dragged on for hours beyond what was necessary, of finally drafting and signing a contract for the protocores he needed, only to have a rival business, some small faction he couldn’t even bother to know the name of, made of traitors and vultures alike, had outbid him with an offer too tantalus; the promise of Onychinus on a platter, them as the new reigning monarchs of the N109 Zone.

Their hubris was their own undoing. They hadn’t tried to disguise the bombs they put in his shipment very well, assuming with the contract in place, Sylus was keen to be lax. What they didn’t know is that Sylus is nothing if not thorough, consistent with his business. Every shipment bound for his warehouses is checked, checked, and checked again, to ensure he gets exactly what he is promised, and to ensure situations - precisely like these - are foiled before even having a chance at fruition. The protocore shaped explosives had been caught on the first scans, and Sylus is offended, not at the attempt on his life, but the sloppy execution of the whole ordeal, especially from his own ex-employees.

He’d repaid the offensive slight tenfold. It was customary, after all. Crushed the insurrectionists who coveted the seat of the N109 Zone, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. They’d made their bed, and Sylus is more than happy to help them lay in it, under six feet of dirt. And his new supplier, who was so for such a short amount of time, got the same treatment for consorting against him in his own territory. He stormed the building they used as a den in a hail of bullets and red-black evol, looking forward to the mushroom cloud that would erupt in a ball of fire when he blew the place off the map. He’d smirked, thumbing the detonator in his pocket, as his men scoured the building for anything valuable or useful, while his supplier hung suspended in the air by his evol.

It was when his men reported back what they’d found in the building’s basement that he took a special pleasure in the vengeance he planned to enact. The dozens of women, in cages, they’d found, emaciated and barely alive. Whom he’d had to relocate anonymously to a shelter within Linkon, because he refused to leave them buried among the rubble. He remembers the way his face twisted in outrage when his men first delivered the news of what was going on in that wretched place.

This was one business Sylus refused to dip his fingers into. That level of depravity was lower than a swine’s belly, and he refused to stoop so low as to wallow in the mud with people more monstrous than he could ever hope to be. Had he known about his new supplier’s involvement in such things, he never would’ve pursued them in the first place. But he was a weapons dealer, first and foremost, and his particular brand required top quality protocores to meet his, and his buyers, standards. And, supposedly, his newest catch sold some of the best on the market after his last, and longest lasting one, had been caught in a turf war near the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and was erased from existence completely.

Sylus prefers to keep his emotions out of business; it simply made things easier, less messy. But perhaps he was more biased than he let on, because he let that old, familiar bloodlust make his bones feel restless, let the burning fire of rage seep into his veins like molasses as he discovered the kind of pigs that tried to lay with him. As they tarnished his reputation, by even associating with them.

It was no matter, though. That contract was now neatly shredded in his bin, all copies of it eradicated, and that portly man who ran that business, well, he’d made for a fine night’s entertainment. Sylus feels a deep sense of satisfaction at having acted as his comeuppance, tearing down his fragile kingdom brick by brick, ensuring nothing but a crater would be left of it. His lips quirk up in a smile, as he remembers how the man had squealed - as all hogs do - when he peeled his skin off, slowly, and fed it to the wanderers that lurk in the nearby no-hunt zones.

But, as much fun as he’d had smearing another pest in his territory into the dirt, he is now facing the consequences of his actions, dealing with the fallout of indulging in his murderous whims. Without a proper supplier, he is pressed to find another way to fulfill the orders that had piled up over the last couple of weeks. Onychinus always fulfills its orders, Sylus prides his business on that, but now he is scrambling, trying to find a new supplier who won’t sell him fakes within the next 48 hours.

Sylus sighs, staring down at the papers on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Swirls the glass of wine that’s gone warm in his hand. His head is beginning to throb.

A light rapping at the door has Sylus lifting his head. His first impulse is to be irritated, as he suspects it’s the twins, and with the drumming behind his temples, he has half a mind to tell them to leave him be. But, perhaps their reconnaissance to find a new source for the protocores he needed was fruitful. He could handle them for the few minutes it would take to be debriefed on the results, he decides.

“Enter,” the smooth baritone of his voice broke the stillness of his office. Sylus leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he waits for them to comply.

The door handle turns, and Sylus sits up, when he sees not the twins, but your beautiful, perfect self, wearing one of the outfits he bought you, dart through his door, quickly closing it behind you.

“Sweetie,” he greets, perking up as you turn, flashing him a sweet, gentle smile as you make your way over to him. Though only an expert could see how the slight widening of his eyes, the faint relaxing of his shoulders belied his adoration for you. You, who made every deal worth slogging through, made every contract a stitch in the fabric of the tapestry of all he would do for you, offer you. You, his most precious treasure, who smiled so sweetly as you approached him, are the only one who can tell his face lit up the moment he saw you.

Your brows furrow slightly as you round his desk. “Everything okay? You look exhausted.” You ask softly. Your voice, a caress of feathers against his rough exterior, made him want to shed the armor that protects the soft, squishy parts of himself. He discards the wine on his desk, opens his arms for you, and you obediently plant yourself shamelessly in his lap, straddling him to bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

He let out another sigh, the stress he feels seeping out of him as he absorbs your warmth, his shoulders slumping. “Unpleasant business,” he answers, kissing the crown of your head, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along your lower back. He feels his heart swell, strain against the warmth that fills it, as you hum in acknowledgement, nestling deeper into him, rubbing your hands up and down his recently tense shoulders. He wonders how you are able to do it, how you are able to tamper the lingering bloodlust towards the sycophants who thought they would consort against him, by simply being there, holding him, existing.

“Do you want a massage?”

Sylus opens his eyes, tightening his grip as he tries to suppress the way his heart leaps at the offer. You do this for him so often, yet his heart is just as excited every time. He thought he would get used to it, that the greedy, yawning maw inside him that wants to swallow you whole would be soothed by your presence. But with every indulgence, every time you run your hands along his skin, he only feels his greed growing bigger and bigger, his desire for you like a cancer that grows and grows without ending.

“I might become a spoiled brat, if you keep offering so often,” he teases, calm, collected. Hiding the way he wants to say yes, please yes into your ear, beg for his desires that squirm and wiggle in the deepest parts of his heart. He would, for you. He’d bend the knee with a smile on his face, if it meant he’d get to feel more of your angelic touch.

You lean back and he lets you, despite his urge to keep you crushed against him. You smile, and he can see that mischievous twinkle in your pretty eyes.

“Who says I don’t want to spoil you?”

Sylus can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. You may make a monster of him yet, with such promises. “I could certainly get used to it.”

You nod happily. “Good,” you say, leaning in to trace your nose up his neck, pepper the underside of his jaw with kisses. He groans, tries to keep himself from devouring you, like he so desires to do. “Come on then,” you speak into his skin. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, but dutifully stands, lifting you as he does, your legs naturally coiling around his waist. The papers, his problems from the last few days, slide off his shoulders like rain on hydrophobic feathers as he carries you out of his office, down the hall to his bedroom. The door opens, shuts behind him with a soft click and the brush of his evol, the lock sliding into place to ensure you’re not interrupted.

Sylus sits down on the edge of the bed, holding you in his lap as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, smelling you, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your plushness. You kiss the place just above his ear, finishing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt off him. He takes it, throws it somewhere inconsequential, then shifts you off his lap, looking at you expectantly. You waste no time getting to work, and as soon as you prop up a suitable amount of pillows against the headboard, settle yourself to lean comfortably on them, he crawls after you, letting himself fall on top of you like a giant weighted blanket, wrapping his arms underneath you. You laugh breathlessly, squirming while you complain that you can’t get to the skin oil with him on top of you. Without opening his eyes, his fingers twitch, the sound of a drawer being opened reaching his ears, the small container of oil put in your hands by inky red tendrils.

You scoff playfully at him, before popping the cap and lathering the oil into your hands. Sylus’s nostrils flare, trying to catch as much of the scent as he can. Datura flowers, a splash of vanilla, a hint of lavender. The same scent in the lotion you got for him in Tarus City, when you finally convinced him it would help the muscle soreness, despite his protests. You’d been right, of course.  You usually are, Sylus had learned. Though, he is sure you don’t remember the scent, wouldn’t have reacted so lukewarm towards it if you did. Another attempt at making you remember bound for the bin.

He gives up on dwelling on it though, because he has to swallow a moan as your hands, which are so, so unbelievably soft, start to knead his supple flesh, pushing and pulling on his skin expertly. You trace every inch along the planes of his back, the contours of every muscle, down his spine, the place just below his neck. He can feel as his stress is worked out of every inch of him, your hands leaving no place ignored, forgotten. He shivers, his skin tingling with delight as he holds you closer, tries to absorb the feeling into his bones so he can never be without it. He could live here, he thinks. Would be content if this moment stretched into infinity, and he never had to leave your embrace.

He isn’t sure how long he lets you dote on him. All he knows is that sleep has begun to call for him, he feels so relaxed, so full, completed. That the oil, whose touch was cold at first, is now warmed by his body and your hands, is disappearing into his skin as you and it cradle him. He wants to accept the invitation to unconsciousness, let the world fade into nothing around him, but he knows stress has dug its greedy claws into you, as well. You tried to hide it from him, said you didn’t want to bother him; he already had so much on his plate. When would you learn you are never a bother to him? When would you learn that he would strip Onychinus down to a cadaver, if it meant you are always happy, always pleased, always at his side?

So instead of allowing himself to fall asleep, despite how tempting, he holds you more firmly, before he abruptly rolls, planting you snugly on his chest.

“Sylus!” You protest, and he can’t help but smirk; you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with him. “You could give me a little warning, at least.”

“I could,” he agrees, pinching the fabric of your clothes between his fingers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You huff, peel yourself off him to scrutinize his form. “You want a chest rub too?” You ask, hands instinctively moving to start anew.

Sylus quickly grabs your hands, gives them a gentle squeeze. “You already pampered me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t,” he concurs again, running his hands up and down your arms. “But I want to. I know you’ve been stressed lately, too.”

Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. You always thought you hid it so well. “I’m okay, really-”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gives you a pointed look, cupping your face in one big hand, running his thumb below your eye. “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

You stiffen, avert your gaze. Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulls you further into him, so you can bury your face into his neck. He runs the tip of his nose along your own neck, kisses the place his teeth once punctured.

“Let me take care of you.”

You don’t respond, for a long moment, and Sylus worries you may try to deny your fatigue further. But then, you give the smallest nod, and he is relieved.

He doesn’t hesitate; starts working your clothes off as soon as he has your permission. His fingers run across your skin, pulling the fabric up, giving you a chaste kiss when you obediently lift your arms so he can finish removing it. You shiver as the cold air graces your form, and Sylus pulls you more tightly into him, letting you soak up as much of his warmth as you can. His evol stirs when you settle, placing the bottle of oil in his hands. He pours a generous amount onto them, the hands made for you, to love you, made for your pleasure, lathers it into them. He puts them on your shoulder blades, spreading his fingers in an attempt to be as gentle as you, before he begins to slowly roll your doughy flesh. You let out a whimper, then a happy sigh as you melt into him, get lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He allows himself to start humming the tune you taught him, the one he knows you do remember, somewhere deep in your subconscious. Your hands grip his shoulders, clutching him as he watches the oil slide across your body, sooth the deep aches where his hands can’t reach.

It doesn’t take long for your breaths to grow long and even, your body sinking further into him as drowsiness overtakes you. Sylus feels a profound sense of satisfaction that he is able to comfort you so thoroughly as to lull you to sleep, as you just had for him. That you trust him enough to let down all your defenses. He remembers, not so long ago, when you hated him, accused him of being a monster, a title more literal than you remembered. When you thought he was responsible for ripping everything you loved from your desperate fingers.

You’ve both come so far since then.

He lets his lips roam across your scalp, nibbles on the shell of your ear. You stir, shifting to secure yourself more firmly in his lap.

“I love you.” Your voice is gruff with sleep, though the words come out no less assured.

Sylus hums. “I love you,” he echos, nuzzling his face into your soft, downy hair. He presses his lips into your temple one more time before closing his own eyes, settling into the cushions. “Get some rest, my beloved.”

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

I had so much fun with this, even though it took around 2 months and like, 20 drafts 😂😭 But I really wanted to show the progression between the past lives both Sylus and us/MC have had and how they are now, while exploring the scars Sylus definitely has from being hunted in his youth. I wanted to show this mirroring effect with past/present and how they’re the same people, but they’ve also changed over time. It was also an excuse to write more nonsexual intimacy, which I couldn’t say no to :)

Btw I hope Sylus wasn’t too mean in this. I HC that he can revert back to such a state when his instincts kick in, because of his cruel lines right before MC stabs him the second time (right before they share souls). It’s like how animals become more aggressive/hide away when they’re sick because they know they’re more valuable during that time. But I hope it wasn’t too much 🙏

I also definitely didn’t cry while rewatching his myth to get names/details right, because the song that plays when he dies plays intermittently throughout the entire myth. You do not perceive me

Disclaimer: I do not consent to my work being translated, published, used without my knowledge, reposted, or used in AI training.

[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 BEYOND THE JOB // JJK ; 2

daddy jungkook (literally)

; babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

+ comment to be added to the taglist

— 2/??

<< previous | next >>

“i told you i could just look after her for you.” the raven haired man said while doing nabi’s pigtails that she loves so much.

“you have your own job too, taehyung.” jungkook simply replied, “plus, you’re always near killing her when you’re left alone.”

taehyung scoffed, taking it by heart as he tied the final loop of nabi’s pigtails. “killing her? don’t be dramatic. she’s perfectly fine with me, right nabi?”

she giggled and taehyung picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. the boring, quiet house was now filled with her sweet laughs. “hey! see now? put her— tae!” jungkook went to reach for his daughter, but the man ran away, nabi’s pigtails swinging and bouncing.

“you’re gonna drop her!”

“you know i won’t!”

“but anything could happen any second-“

taehyung stopped, playfully throwing nabi down on the soft mattress of the couch. “you ever have some fun, man? jesus..”

jungkook rolled his eyes at his words, “i can have fun too!”

“be for real, the last time you had fun was probably when you made nabi— ow!” taehyung laughed but instantly stopped when he felt a slap on his neck.

“watch your mouth?” he whispered, pointing to nabi. taehyung turned around and noticed how she was unbothered, being in her own little world playing with her princess dolls.

“calm down, the fuck. she ain’t even paying attention to us— i mean, you. right nabi?” taehyung asked the last part loudly with a huge grin, glancing at her.

he turned back with a smile to jungkook when she nodded, “see? i’m always in the center of her attention. she loves me, dude. you know that too!”

“of course i know she loves you, you’re like the second dad.”

“whoa, we ain’t gay—“ taehyung put his hands up in surrender.

“not like that!” jungkook smacked his neck again, “you’re her uncle, besides you and me, she got nobody else.”

“you ever thought of dating again?”

jungkook let out a sigh of frustration. “you at this again? i told you— at least a million times already that i don’t want to.”

taehyung shrugged and fixed the blanket next to nabi. “dunno, you could’ve changed your mind since then.”

“well, i haven’t.”

“okay, great to know. so, i guess i should cancel the blind date i planned?” taehyung asked with a raised brow.

“the hell, tae?!”

“jokin’..” he laughed but he quickly took his phone out, typing a message to someone. jungkook watched in disbelief, shaking his head as he checked the time.

“you should go, she could be here any moment now.”

“what? you won’t even let me meet the person who’s gonna spend all day with my precious angel?” he feigned hurt, pouting.

“you can, just another time.”

jungkook crossed his arms while taehyung kept his pout on with his puppy eyes, “no. that looks weird on you, grow up. stop it.”

he cursed at jungkook in a whisper, reaching his hand out to nabi. “nabi, come on. say goodbye to tata.”

she got up and walked to him, holding his hand. he bent down to plant a kiss on her hair, “am i the best?” he whispered to her. she smiled and nodded, “the best!”

“just go already,” jungkook scoffed and pushed taehyung. he opened the door but stopped, “what?” jungkook asked and looked to the door.

you stood there, about to press the bell. “oh,” jungkook rushed to the door and pushed taehyung aside.

he looked at jungkook and then back at you. “is this her?” he asked, unbothered if he sounded rude. jungkook gave him a look but nodded, already knowing what’s gonna happen next.

taehyung turned to you, looking you up and down. he hummed and that made something weird in your stomach, as if you were being looked down on.

“hey, i’m taehyung, single—“ he couldn’t finished as he got pushed out of the door. “bye tae!” jungkook said and stepped aside to let you in.

you glanced at taehyung and you saw him make a ‘call me’ sign with a smile before he turned his back to you, walking away.

“sorry about that,” jungkook embarrassedly apologized as you both got inside. “it’s alright. is he your friend?” you asked, taking off your coat.

he nodded and took the outerwear from you, neatly hanging it. you mumbled a thanks and you took off your shoes too, placing them nicely next to the wall. “yeah, he can be kind of annoying.”

you both settled down on the couch, and after jungkook got a glass of orange juice for you, it was now discussion time.

“so, i have a set of keys hanged next to the coats, those are yours. i wrote the names of the doors on the keys to not switch them up. gate, front door, basement. i also got a key for nabi’s room if it would be an emergency.”

he explained everything and you nodded, taking a sip. “she usually eats lunch around 2PM, the latest is 3. if you’re out and get back late, just wait till’ dinner.”

he leaned a little closer to make sure nabi doesn’t hear him, but it was useless because she wasn’t paying attention anyways. “i have chocolate ice cream in the bottom drawer of the freezer, if she’s having a huge— and i mean huge tantrum, give her a small cup and she’ll be nice again.”

you laughed and nodded, “does she have allergies?” you asked. he hummed and shook his head, leaning back to his original seat.

“no, nothing that i know of. she got it checked a few months ago and she can eat anything.”

“oh god— food. she’s hella picky.” jungkook sighed and glanced at her, then back at you.

“first of all, peppers. she doesn’t like the seeds inside, so i always cut them in thin lines to make sure none gets in there. same with grapes, oranges and tangerines. literally anything that has seeds, needs to be picked out. except tomatoes, thank god.”

“whoa, i never met someone who doesn’t eat the seeds.” you said, looking at her.

“she says because it’s soft food, and the seeds are hard. i dunno, i guess it’s.. nabi logic or something.” he waved his hand, leaving the topic.

“next, bread. always cut the bread crust off. it once poked her gums and she wouldn’t eat it since then.”

“i don’t like the crust either, so that’s not an issue.”

he looked at you weirdly, “the crust is the best part of a freshly baked bread.”

you shrugged, “i don’t like it.”

after a good 5 minutes long discussion about bread crust, jungkook lead you to a door. “and lastly, this is your room.”

you step inside, taking in the decor. it wasn’t much different from the other furnitures in the house, “it’s the guest room,” jungkook broke the silence.

you turned to him with a nod, “it’s really nice. thank you.”

“it used to be my office so there might be a few papers or folders in one of the drawers, just let me know if you find anything.”

“yeah, of course.”

“you can bring as many decorations as you want in here, i want you to feel the most comfortable. you can move in whenever, i won’t rush you.”

he saw the hesitation written on your face, and he panicked that he must have misunderstood the situation.

“or— you don’t have to move in obviously! i just thought you’d be with nabi from early hours to late afternoons, sometimes even nights therefor-“

he ranted, his eyes going everywhere in the room but your eyes, his hands in a fist next to his body. he was nervous, afraid he made a woman, — he made you uncomfortable.

“i understand, don’t worry. and i think i’ll just spend a few days a week. if that’s alright?”

“yeah!” his tone was more excited than he intended to be, he cleared his throat. “yeah that’s fine.”

you smiled at his clumsy behavior, your eyes looking around the room once again. “oh, i wanted to ask you something.” you turned to him.

“yeah?”

“the man, who was here before, does he come over a lot? i don’t want unexpected people to show up when i’m alone with nabi.”

“oh, taehyung. well yeah, a few days a week but he also has his own job, so don’t worry. and he knows i wouldn’t be here, so i doubt he’d come over.”

you nodded as he explained, walking out the room and heading to the living room, where nabi was still occupied.

“i could—“ jungkook started and he hurried in front of you, stopping you with his arms reached out. “i could write a list of names and their phone numbers about whom to trust and reach out to if i’m not available.”

“oh, that’d be helpful. thank you,” you smiled and jungkook got lost for a second, your lips looking wetter than they did a minute ago, shining beautifully.

“i have a very close friend of mine, her name is sasha.” you said and he got his attention back, looking at you dumbfounded as what you wanted to say.

“uh, like— if i ever go out with nabi, would it be a problem if sasha comes along with us?” your voice was uncertain, if he said no it would be damn embarrassing and awkward.

he hummed as he hesitated, scratching his head. “i mean i guess not? you said she’s your friend, so i believe she’s not a serial killer..” he joked, or half joked, maybe didn’t even joke about it but you laughed and his shoulders relaxed.

“no, she’s not. she was my co-worker, i can give you her number if an emergency were to happen.”

“sure, that’d be nice.”

┈ ⪩⪨   ┈

the first week of taking care of nabi wasn’t so horrible, better than you expected. she was really calm, sometimes too calm and quiet. you didn’t think much about it, telling yourself she gotta get used to you.

one day she was sweet like an angel, asking to play dolls with her, “__! play barbie with me!” she didn’t ask, she commanded you to play it with her.

so you did, you sat down on the floor across her, holding another blonde barbie doll. it was going fine, until she— or more like her ‘barbie’ talked bad about your doll.

“ew! your dress is so not cool!” her tone was high pitched, you gasped. “oh my! that’s not so nice of you, nabi.”

“i didn’t say that, it was her!” she held up her doll.

you got lost in your thoughts that day, afraid she might grow up thinking it was fine to judge others’ appearance. you know that she’s aware it’s just games, but what if she thinks it’s just as fine to do that in real life as with dolls?

then some other days, she just wouldn’t say one single word to you. she would mumble a few ‘thank you’s when you give her juice or make food, but she wouldn’t ask you to play with her, go out for a walk, watch a show. nothing.

when you would be the one suggesting to go outside, she’d shake her head. “everything okay, sweetheart?” you asked when you walked from the kitchen to her, holding a plate of cookies.

she didn’t look up at you but she gave you nod, “i brought cookies. chocolate, the one you like.” you put it down but she completely ignored it, continuing to draw.

you watched her in silence, maybe you were the one doing something wrong? maybe your cookies aren’t tasty? maybe you said something that she misunderstood?

all the bad possibilities flew to your mind, stressing you out. you sat down on the couch, zoning out but not completely. you saw nabi move from the corner of your eye, she walked up to you with two dolls.

“you wanna play?”

…

she just shrugged, giving you the same doll she did the other day, which made you remember what she had said.

it started fine, she said some stuff about horses and playgrounds, but then it happened again. she randomly changed the topic, saying your doll’s hair was ugly and it’d be better to buzz it off.

you put the doll down, “nabi, don’t be so mean. you know you can’t say stuff like that, right?”

“you can’t say someone’s dress is not cool or their hair isn’t as pretty as yours. you might think it’s okay because these are just dolls, but no. treat them like you would treat a friend.”

“i have no friends.”

your heart sank. you never asked about friends, assuming she had them. what a disgusting thing you did. assume.

you felt horrible, ashamed. “i’m sorry angel.” you placed your hand on her small back, and that’s when the door opened.

jungkook walked in, looking a bit like a mess but the tiredness left him as soon as nabi ran to him. he smiled but then frowned, hearing her sobs.

you widened your eyes, confused why she was crying now. you stood up and jungkook stared at you, picking up his daughter. “what’s wrong?”

he asked her, but she gave him no reply. he looked at you again for answers but you shook your head, no idea what was going on with her. “ya, it’s fine, stop crying.” he kicked off his shoes and carried her to her bedroom.

you waited, patiently sitting on the couch.

“she’s okay?” you asked when he got back, plopping down next to you.

“yeah, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

you stayed silent, staring at the turned off tv in front of you.

“did you.. say something to her?” he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

you snapped your head towards him, “no, nothing bad that i know of.”

“what did you talk about?”

“we were playing with her dolls and she started talking bad about my doll, for the second time this week. so, i told her it’s not nice and she shouldn’t do that. she needs to be nice, not judge the dolls.”

he listened carefully, resting his head on his arm.

“i told her to treat them like she would treat a friend. i didn’t know she doesn’t have friends..”

jungkook sighed, “she must say those things because some girls used to be rude to her at daycare. that’s why i got you instead, i don’t want her to be raised in a place like that.”

“i’m so sorry i brought that topic up in front of her, i should’ve acted like a mature person and think before saying anything— god, i feel awful.”

“you don’t have to, you didn’t know.”

“but i assumed..”

“so? that’s just how the brain works, social life and friends are normal and common, we assume everyone has them.”

he saw how much this affected you too, he scooted a little closer and placed his big hand on your shoulder. “don’t feel bad. she’s fine, she will be fine.”

you groaned, throwing your head back. “i know..”

he chuckled, noticing how exhausted you looked by the end of the week. “was she fine tho? how was your week with her? i hope she’s not too.. horrible to you.”

you shook your head, giving him a look then closing your eyes. “she’s fine. a little quiet but that shouldn’t be a bad thing, right?”

“right. better than a child who runs around yelling all day.”

“oh i hope that day never comes. i wouldn’t survive that.” silence fell in the room after a round of small laughing.

“you had lunch?” he asked you out of the sudden, looking at the clock. almost 5PM.

“yeah, i cooked her some of those dino nugg—“

“no, i meant, you. did you have lunch?”

oh. how embarrassing..!

“no, i didn’t.” you sighed, sitting up straight.

“come on, then.” he stood up, walking to the kitchen. you frowned, “what?”

“let’s eat.”

“it’s late, almost dinner time.”

“then, let’s eat dinner. call it whatever you want.” he shrugged, taking off his hoodie which he threw on the armchair when he walked past it.

“i can eat at home, it’s fine.”

“__.”

wow, there was something in his tone, commanding, strict. he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at you. he jerked his head towards the kitchen, signaling you to follow.

“please, eat with me. it’d be late when you get home, i don’t want you to cook at that hour. come on,”

his voice wasn’t aggressive nor loud, but yet it had a firmness, leaving no room for argument.

“also, it’s already getting dark. stay for tonight.”

taglist: @ahgasegotarmy116 @joonlover1207 @starlight-1010 @kingtinaa

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? pt. 2 ft. obey me! datables

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! datables x f!reader

cw: HIGHLY suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (sweetheart), fondling, groping, grinding/humping, semi-public but no sex, licking, stripping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank u so much for the love on the first part, im so happy to be able to write these hcs, they’re such a fun idea. i got a bit carried away and some of these turned into half-ish fics but i hope u enjoy this version just as much as the first ♡

haven’t read the first part yet? you can find it here ♡

diavolo loves ass. the end.

just kidding.

ever since arriving in the devildom, student council meetings had always been a bore to you. you were never able to understand the complex topics of the “worldly problems” discussed, which often led to you staring out into space.

but ever since you got close to diavolo, things had changed.

“keep it down, y/n,” diavolo whispered through clenched teeth, as he kept a beaming smile glued to his face.

you let out a peeved groan. how the hell were you supposed to keep quiet when he kept rocking you back and forth on his lap like this?

despite your squirming, his hands never left you as he pushed and kneaded at your ass under the table. his hard-on evident as it ground against your clit, eliciting hushed whimpers from your lips.

in many ways, doing this was beyond worse than just zoning out, one wrong move and the whole student council would probably never look you in the eye again.

to make matters worse, diavolo insisted that meetings can’t start unless you were up here, in his lap, at all times.

“dia, i can’t do this anymore,” you whimpered under your breath.

“it’s almost over soon, sweetheart. just a little longer ‘n then i’ll make you feel good, hm?”

it might not be obvious at first, but barbatos loves boobs.

hearing that he was the “greatest pastry chef in all three worlds” has always been something that intrigued you. it wasn’t until you tried them for yourself that you realised that this statement was far from being a lie.

it was only a few weeks ago that you asked him to teach you a few of his recipes, you had never seen so much delight in his eyes. “oh that would be great, y/n! i’ve always been looking forward to the day you’d ask me so.”

as you slam the door to the oven, a gust of the hot air blows against your face, “how long should these be in the oven for, barbs?”

“thirty minutes should be fine. do you mind adding some of that sugar over there into this bowl?” you set the oven timer to thirty minutes before scurrying over with a measured bowl of sugar, pouring it into the bowl of fresh cream.

“perfect, could you whisk up this cream for me while i go find the vanilla?”

“sure.” he hands you the whisk before poking his nose through the cupboards in search of vanilla.

as you were whisking, you let your mind wander. gosh, i can’t wait to try this when it’s done… but dang i lowkey wonder when he’s gonna let me in his pants already… a few wet splatters across your chest had snapped you back to focus, “oh shit— i spilt it on me!”

the clank of the whisk dropping to the countertop had barbatos rushing towards you.

“oh goodness me, you’ve made a mess!”

“i know… fuck i’m sorry. i’ll just get a tea towel and wipe—”

before you could finish your sentence, barbatos had stopped you. his body crowding up against yours as he leaned in. holding you by your waist, you could feel his kitten licks swipe against your chest, even reaching as far down to the cleavage of your boobs.

you started to feel hot and dazed as the sweet aroma drifted through the kitchen, while he started to suck harshly against your skin, fingers creeping up to caress your boobs. soft pants began to leave your mouth as his tongue worked across your chest, but before it could escalate any further, he had pulled away.

as he stepped back, wiping the corner of his lips, you were left completely flustered, “oh wow, the cream without the vanilla tastes really good, you might just have a talent for baking y/n!”

“uh-huh…” you muttered, staring at him dumb-found and wide-eyed.

simeon is secretly a big fan of boobs, so today was a big treat for him.

it was the weekend, he had scored a pair of free tickets to the amusement park, and of course decided to bring you along. it was a leisurely day however, the rides and attractions he decided to do were almost too tame for your excitement.

dragging him along, you spot an attraction that seemed to catch your eye. handing two tokens to the employee, you quickly rushed into the tank, simeon freezing, clearly stunned and confused about what was about to happen. “hey y/n, what’s going on?!”

taking a seat on the tiny platform you point to the target beside you, “can you hit a bullseye?” you winked.

the employee hands simeon a ball, “you’ve got three tries, buddy.” after a moment of hesitation, he throws the ball, hitting the center of the target with a loud smack.

you let out a small shriek before getting submerged into the tank of water. “oh my— Y/N!” simeon rushes towards the tank, quickly pulling you out from the water. you let out sharp breaths before giggling, “your aim is amazing!”

“is this your idea of fun?!” his hands reach up to hold both sides of your face, turning it from one side to the other. “you’re not hurt are you?”

you smile sweetly, flattered by his concern, “i’m fine simeon, it was fun, really.”

he sighs, “good, alright.” his eyes travel over your body checking for any scrapes before widening at the sight of your chest. the water had soaked your white shirt completely, revealing that you were wearing nothing underneath. your round nipples were perked up from the cold water while your shirt was clinging onto your wet skin.

gasping even louder than before, in a flimsy last-minute attempt to cover you up, he slaps his hands over each of your boobs and although it works in his favour, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“don’t laugh y/n! we need to get you a new shirt, or at least a sweater!”

you pull him towards you by his collar, your lips mere inches away from touching, “so are you gonna help me take this one off first?” your purr.

his hands race to cover his reddened face, “w-wait that’s not what i—!” upon realising your boobs are on display again, he slams his hands back over them, “y/n!” he whines.

two hours in, and it was blatantly obvious to solomon that this tutoring session was going nowhere.

you weren’t understanding any terms or concepts of the topic at hand and with a week to go before your final, it seemed like solomon was more worried about this than you were. surely it isn’t because you’re too distracted sitting in his lap, right?

he clears his throat, “how about this…” you slowly lift your head up from the palm of your hands, clearly distressed about your upcoming failure. “for every question you get incorrect, you remove a piece of clothing.”

you raise your brows, intrigued, “and for every question i get right, you remove a piece of clothing?” you stare back at him.

“exactly, and for that answer…” he slowly shrugs off his blazer and places it behind his chair, “i’ll remove this.”

in hopes of this becoming a motivation for you, he began to quiz you with a mini questionnaire. “what are the three ingredients used to make the elixir of cerebral stimulation?”

you internally face palm because you knew jack shit about brewing potions, “uhhh… newt legs, unicorn hair, and frog mucus?”

solomon clears his throat ubruptly. “um, no. the correct answer is powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root, and caladrius blood.”

you look down in embarrassment before removing three pieces of clothing. only four minutes in and you’re left in nothing but your underwear and bra.

“last and final question, what covered the devildom when it was first created?”

“…darkness?”

“…unfortunately, that is incorrect. the correct answer is a forest.”

you groan. you haven’t gotten a single question correct and embarrassment was evident as your face was flushed. you turn to face solomon, “at this point, why don’t you choose what i take off?”

your pretty face staring up at him, teary and doe-eyed had him swooning. slowly standing up and pushing your back down onto the table, he stared deliriously at you. papers were scattered everywhere and textbooks were crumpled open. your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands gently pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

staring at your bare chest he murmurs, “i’m obsessed with these,” before diving straight in.

a/n: haven’t written in about 5 months so excuse how rusty my writing has gotten.. but nonetheless, thanks for reading this far, luv you all ♡

©2024 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

The Look

summary: its awards season. meaning glits, glam, and harry looking like a total snack at events.

word count: 8.8K (i got carried away 😬)

read time: 37 min

content warning ⚠️: D/s dynamics, MAJOR DADDY KINK, subspace, dom space, dd/lg (if you squint), (filthy) dirty talk, mild & sweet degradation, pet names (love, lovie, baby, baby girl, good girl, baby love), possessive!harry (if you squint), anal play (plugs), nipple clamps, light bondage (if you squint), spanking, paddling, (mention of flogging/ a flogger), fingering, ring kink (is this a thing? sure.), hand kink, light choking, manhandling (kind of), unprotected sex (and the mess that comes with it), (slight) hair pulling. If I messed something let me know!

a/n: I saw this picture of Rihanna looking at A$AP Rocky like she was about to suck the soul out of that man in front of all those people….and then I wrote this. and I'll do it again lol. Enjoy! 😉

You were bored, and beyond ready to go home. You hated award season, selfishly. You knew what it meant for Harry, and you were always so proud of him, and his accomplishments. But dammit did you hate all that came along with it. Dressing up and cameras, let alone the interviews. You’d only ever get a question or two thrown at you,but regardless, you were not built for it.

But Harry, he was a natural born star. He didn’t love the attention all of the time, but you knew him well enough to know that he did get a bit of a kick out of the attention. And he knew how to handle it far better than you ever could. It made you feel all the more guilty when all you wanted to do was stay home, cook a nice meal together and watch your shows. But you were nothing if not supportive, always taking one for the team, even if the team was just Harry. “It’s just a few hours,” you’d tell yourself. “Just a few hours and then I can have him all to myself the rest of the night.”And that’s what you told yourself, and that's how you ended up here, at some after party, in a dress, vacuum sealed to your body in heels that feel like stilts, and a little too tipsy from the free-flowing champagne.

Harry had just gotten off the small stage,giving a speech about…something. And while you were so proud of him, and how he commanded a room, you hadn’t heard a word he said. You were too busy gawking at your charming, devilishly handsome boyfriend.

Harry works his way through the crowd, eyes locked on you and dimples popped as he tries his best to make it to your side. He’s stopped a few times, gives some pleasantries before he’s by your side again, kissing your temple.

“You, alright?” he asks. You nod with a hum, looking up at him over your champagne flute.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you in. Harry knows the look, it's a look you only ever give him when you're in one of your moods. And it usually precedes you sucking the soul out of him.

“Like what?” you ask, earnestly.

“Right,” He chuckles, eyes looking down at your lip tucked between your teeth.

“What? I’m not looking at you like anything!” You defend, leaning up to kiss his cheek. And then it dawns on him.

You don’t even realize just how you’d been looking at him. All pout, and doe eyes, begging to be fucked and taken care of like you deserve.

“Nothing, honey.” He places a hand on your cheek smirking before leaning and kissing your forehead. “Let’s head out, hm? You look tired.”

“I’m fine! We can stay.” you lie, grateful that he’s suggested you head out early.

“Baby,” he says with a smile, but his tone is the one that makes your legs feel like Jell-O, “We’re going home. I did my obligation. I’ll go get the car. You meet me out front, after you’ve said your goodbye to everyone alright?” He asks, but it’s more like a demand.

You nod with a smile, finishing your drink. He kisses the top of your head, and you watch him make his exit.

*****

“You sounded great up there, Har.” You smile reaching for his hand resting on the shift. He laces your fingers together, kissing by the back of your hand.

“Thanks, Baby Love.” he says with a gentle smile. He pulls up to a red light, looking over at you. “You looked gorgeous tonight baby.”

“You’ve said that already.” you giggle, feeling your cheeks warm up. You lean your head back against the headrest, nibbling at your bottom lip, “A few times actually.”

“And I meant it every time I said it. And I mean it now.” he smirks.

“You look good too.” you smirk.You reach your hand up to his hair at the name of his neck, playing with the curls there. “Your hair looks nice like this. It’s very 90’s Leo.” You giggle and he smirks.

“Yeah? ‘S that a good thing?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod, “and I like this.” You say reaching over tugging on the shirt he’s wearing. It’s a black semi sheer top, with some lace detail. It’s simple, but paired with the jewelry and the fact that you can see his tattoos peeking through…you were more than pleased with tonight's outfit.

“I thought you might.” He turns his head to kiss your palm that’s made it to his cheek, giving it two spongy kisses.

The light turns and his attention is back on the road, so you watch the side of his face instead. Watch his dimple poke as he smiles. “It was written all over your face.” He chuckles after a few moments.

“What was?” You ask brows furrowed

“Those filthy thoughts of yours.” You don’t say a word, just clear your throat, nibbling on your bottom lip and turning your head looking forward. Harry looks over, eyes boring into the side of your face with a smirk. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what filthy thoughts were going on in that pretty head of yours. Hmm?”

“Noth-” you start.

“Don’t lie to me, you know what happens when you do.” You swallow thickly looking over at him. For the second time tonight he’s used that tone. That dominant tone that only ever comes out when you ///play/// together. And it’s got you feeling all out of sorts. You squeeze your thighs together trying to soothe the ache that's sprung up between your thighs. “Tell me.” He presses once more.

“Just….thinking about playing with your hair….while you’re between my legs.” you whisper nervously.

You’d been with Harry for a while now. And you've never been shy about discussing intimacy. But when he put on that voice, and with his hand heavy on your thigh, it always seemed to make you bashful.

“And?” he prompts. Harry knows there's more, there's always more with you. “My little minx” Harry always joked.

Really he just wanted to work you up. Get you as frustrated, and hot and bothered as he could, because he had plans for tonight. Harry was finally going to reward you for being such a good girl, for him. Not just tonight and stomaching yet another event, but for all of awards season. You’ve always hated the cameras and parties. You’ve hated sharing him with the world. Selfish yes, but he felt the same about you. He couldn’t fathom how you felt every year around this time when he had to be ‘Harry Styles’ and not just your Harry, being ‘on’ all the time and away from you. But, you’ve been so good, and he knows he hasn’t been as attentive as he should be these last few months, so he was finally going to give you all the attention he’s deprived from you lately. All the attention you’ve been too shy, or scared to ask for.

“Your rings.” you finally blurt out.

“What about them?”

“I was thinking….” you pause trying to figure out the least crude way to phrase it,“About feeling them on my ass. I like when you spank me with them, and I like feeling them when…when you finger me too. It's nice.”

“You want me to spank you baby?”Harry asks cautiously. You nod your head slowly. “Why?” he asks, brows furrowed, with only a bit of concern “Did you do something to earn you a spanking?”

You and Harry were no strangers to spanking, or playing rough. But they were usually only reserved for your punishments, or ‘punishments’ as you so dubbed them, as you quite liked the feeling of Harry’s hands on you.

“Maybe.” you purred.

Now he’s intrigued. This was about teasing you before you got home. But now? This was about playing the game. His favorite game, yours too. He snaps his head toward you as you approach another red light.

“Maybe?” he quips, “You either broke a rule, or you didn't, baby? Which is it?”

You take a moment, trying to figure out which way to play it, which way would get you what you wanted most. You could continue to play coy, could lie, or you could be honest.

You chose the latter.

“I did.” you coo, biting your bottom lip.

“Hmm,” He hums, leaning over the center console to get a better look at you. Your eyes were a bit glassy already, a look you only ever got when the two of you played. When you were feeling submissive. “And what rule would that be?”

You look down at his hand that found its way from your thigh to become tangled with yours, twirling the ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his fingers. “No panties.” You mumbled.

He heard you, but he really enjoyed making you repeat things, especially if he knew that you were a little embarrassed. “Louder baby. And look at me.” he demands softly.

“I’m not wearing any panties.”

“No?” He mocks. You shake your head as the light turns green. Harry smirks at you, before, slowly pressing the accelerator, eyes back to the road.

“Why would you do that, baby? Go to such an important event, a room full of people with no panties on?” he asks. He knows why, or at least he suspects. But he wants to hear you say it. Likes to tease you, yes, maybe humiliate you a little for being his perfect little slut.

“I was thinking about the last time. Last week and how we…snuck away.”

He smirks looking over at you, with lust filled eyes he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses the back of your hand again. He remembers it fondly, as one of the best quickies you’ve had. Definitely the riskiest you’ve ever been, and he’s not stopped thinking about it since. And apparently neither have you.

“You didn’t wear any panties so it would be easier for me to fuck you in the bathroom again? Is that it?” he probed.

“Yes,” you squeak.

Harry stops at another red light. Cursing the fact that it seems they’ve not made a single one on your ride back. He looks over at you, dimples out, eyes dark with lust. “You like being a slut in public baby?” You nod. Chewing on your bottom lip. He reaches up, and pulls it from your teeth, running his thumb over it. “Why didn’t you ask, hmm? You know how to ask for what you want?” You shrug and squeeze your thighs tighter together. Harry takes notice and presses further, “Instead you were looking at me like a cock drunk whore.” he tuts, “In front of all those people. If I saw it, you know everyone else did too. Don’t you,sweetheart?”

“I didn’t - I don’t know.” You pouts

“It’s okay baby.” he chuckles, “I’ll take care of you when we get home okay. We’re almost there.

“Yes Sir.” you say, with a dopey grin. The honorific just slipped out, before you realized. You may have been slightly embarrassed if it weren't for the promise of what’s to come later tonight.

“Good girl.” He praises, leaning over the consol. He kisses you once, twice, and then a third time before you hear honking behind you.

Harry pulls away from your kiss, seeing the lights turned. There’s another impatient honk before Harry pulls off muttering an “asshole” under his breath, looking in the rear view mirror. You look out your window. Trying to keep yourself from moving around too much as Harry’s hand rested on your thigh, lightly massaging it.

The ride is quiet for a while, as you try to focus on not squirming, and imagining what’s in store for the night before Harry speaks again, voice all rough and authority,“You are getting punished first. You know that, don’t you baby?”

You look at him and nod your head, “Mhmm.” you hum.

Once you’ve finally pulled into the drive at home, Harry has pretty much fully entered his own Dom space and you're slipping deeper and deeper by the second into subspace. When you enter the house, he stops you at the bottom of the stairs reaching for your hand to turn you around. He cradles your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks, “I’m gonna grab some things for the night, and lock up the rest of the house. I want you on the bed in position, in nothing but this,” he says playing with the gold pendant ‘H’ around your neck “and then we’ll start. Okay?.”

You smile up at him, a warm rush going through your body, and nod. “Words, please. And repeat the instructions, for me.” he encourages.

“Go upstairs, sit in a position with only my necklace.”

“Good girl.” He smirks, grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply. He pulls away, you chasing after his lips, “No,” he tuts playfully, “Upstairs. Go.” he nods behind you towards the stairs behind you. You turn, Harry giving a light tap to your ass as you scurry up the staircase.

You’re quick to rid yourself of the uncomfortable costume of ‘celebrity girlfriend’, stripping down to nothing other than the gold necklace as promised. You sit center of the bed on your calves, hands resting on your thighs as you wait for Harry to join you.

He does as per his routine, locking up the house, and grabbing a your nightly water bottle for when you wake in the middle of the night. He does the extra task of grabbing you a snack and a few extra water bottles for the night.

When he passes the threshold of your bedroom his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, naked in the center of your bed, kneeling so pretty for him. But he doesn’t let it show. In fact he ignores you, as he enters the room, not giving you anything more than a glance. Your eyes remained trained on him as he moved through the room.

First to his side of the bed, placing the items he’d brought up with him, before heading over to your dresser, taking off his watch, and setting it in the little dish there. But you note that his rings you love so much remain on. He saunters into your walk-in closet and stays there for far too long in your opinion. Taking his time to get into his unofficial uniform for nights like this. He emerges in nothing but the same pair of relaxed fit dark denim wash jeans, that hug in all the right places, and his rings. Your favorite small velvet red box in one hand. And a leather paddle in the other.

Finally, after waiting what feels like forever, Harry strides over to you, standing at the end of the bed, placing the box on the corner of it. It had only a few things in it by the sound of it, but you still were tingling with anticipation. Without saying a word he jesters for you to come closer to him, with his finger. You knee walk your way over, sitting back on your calves with your hands resting on your thighs. You look at him with a pout, and he smiles.

“Hi baby.”

“Daddy -” you whine, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You were already getting a punishment, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Oh, Baby Love,” Harry coos, and you whimper just happy to finally have his attention on you. He cradles your face in his hands, and you lean into his touch. “I’m right here.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, and places kisses on your forehead, each cheek, tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You whine into the kiss, and attempt to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away with a tisk. “Nuh uh,no. Punishment, remember.” He smirks, hand traveling down to your neck, stroking the side of it with his thumb.

“Yes Daddy,” you pout.

He reaches over, taking the lid off the velvety box and you peek inside.Inside isn’t your entire collection,not by a long shot. The box is nothing more than the ‘goodie bag’ he makes, everytime you play. Picking up a few things from the big red chest from the back of your closet that held everything ropes, to plugs, to clamps, and lube.

Tonight seemed to be quite the selection, and your pussy was clenching at the sight of the items. You watch him lay a few things beside you. Some nipple clamps with a chain connecting the two. He loved to pull on those while he railed you, and a pink glass plug with a rose on the end, and lastly some lube.

He puts a finger under your chin forcing him to look up at him.

“You know why you're getting a punishment tonight?” he asks.

“Yes”

“Tell Daddy, then.”

“Because I didn’t wear any panties.” .

“And?” he probed, eyebrows quirked up.

“And I ….” your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to get the words out, but nerves taking over.

“Go on,” he chuckles, amused. He loved watching you get all worked up. But seeing just how worked up you are without him hardly touching you had him realize just how badly you needed him.

“I didn’t ask for you to take care of me when I was needy….I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head kissing your cheek, “It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, but I still gotta punish you, okay?” You nod your head, lip tucked between your teeth, “And you know your words if it becomes too much?”

“Red or watermelon to stop, and yellow if I need you to slow down, or if I need to talk to you about something.” you say quietly, and he smiles proudly. .

“Good girl.” he praises, one hand on your neck, the other caressing your cheek, “And your color right now?”

“Green.” You rush out leaning into his touch.

“Very good baby.” He reaches down and picks up the nipple clamps, “We’re gonna start with these, okay?”

“Wait! You gasp, eyes wide.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah. I just - can I touch you. Please?” you asked, and Harry smirks.

“What do you mean baby?”

“Can I kiss you, please?” you whisper. He nods, a little taking hold of your hands, bringing your arms around his neck, as he rests his hands on your waist and kisses you. He allows the make out session for a while, your hands tangled in his hair, while he gropes your ass, and massages your tits, pulling at your nipples, preparing them for the clamps. You moan into the kiss, pushing your hips into his. He allows it once but the second time he pulls away from the kiss making you moan.

“That’s enough baby. Be good, you’re already getting punished, hm?”

“Okay.” you pout.

Harry picks up one of the clamps, leaning down sucking your right nipple into his mouth before he places the clamp. You hiss at the sensation and the combination of the look in your eye, and the sounds you make, make his cock twitch in his jeans. “Good?” he questions.

“Yes.” you sigh with a nod. He leans over to your left breasts, bringing it to his mouth and doing the same as he did with the left. Once the clamps were in place, he lightly pulled on the chain dangling in the center, enjoying the little noises that you make as Harry kisses back up your chest to your neck.

“Feelin’ okay, Lovie?”

“Mhmm” you hum. Harry could tell it was getting more difficult for you to find words, you were slipping further and further into subspace and he couldn’t be happier.

“Good.” he states with a smirk, “Good, baby.”

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and pats his thigh, “Across my lap,” He purrs, and you do as your told, laying across his lap, your nipples hard and clamped brushing against the softness of the duvet. The sensation made you whimper, and squirm in Harry’s lap.

Harry takes a handful of your ass, squeezing it in warning. “No squirming. You know the rules. Unless you want more spanks, be still.”

“Sorry, Daddy..” You mumble looking up at him over your shoulder.

“Good girl” with your eyes on him still he reaches to the other side of him getting a tube from the box and picking up the pink plug. “We’re doing your plug tonight, okay?” You nod, biting your lip.

The plug is a relatively new addition to your play time, but it was quickly becoming a favorite of yours, and Harry’s too. He knew how much you enjoyed it, and while so far none of this seemed to be much of a punishment, he had plans for you.

“Color?”

“Green.” you stuttered.

“Good. Head down, relax for me okay?” he commanded.

You rest your head on your folded hands in front of you, your head to the side as you take in a shaking breath feeling his hands massage your ass, before slipping a hand between your thighs.

“Messy already baby?”

“Sorry,” you whimper, a little embarrassed at just how wet you were already, from nothing more than nipple clamps, and making out.

“That’s okay,” he coos, “you can’t help it. Can you, baby?” He leans down, placing a kiss on your right cheek.

“No.” You shake your head, “It’s the clamps, and…you looked really good tonight.” you admit shyly.

“So did you, Baby Love.” he smiles, “too bad you were being naughty. I was going to reward you for being so patient the last few months,” he taunts as he rubs up and down your pussy with one hand, massaging your ass with the other. “But now I have to punish you.” He brings some of your wetness to your tighter hole with his thumb massaging the ring of muscle making you moan out. You grip the sheets to keep you from squirming.

He leans down, spitting right at the puckered hole making you cry out. He smears the saliva around slowly prodding at your hole with his thumb while his fingers danced over your leaking pussy.

He hears you moan but ignores it, continuing his work. “You know why I love punishing you baby?”

“Why?”

“Because…it means I get to play with this cute little ass of yours.” He punctuates the sentence with a light spank to your left cheek with his free hand, as he slipped his thumb into your tightest hole.

“Daddy….”

“Shhh baby. I’m right here.” he coos, his hand up your back, comfortingly gripping the back of your neck as he plays with your clit and hole. Pumping his thumb slowly. After feeling you clench around the digit a few times, and your pussy pulse, he removes his thumb, while continuing to rub up and down your folds. He reaches for the lube, opening it.

“This is gonna be a little cold, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you murmur

He squeezed a rather large dollop onto your hole rubbing it around, before rubbing the pink glass plug up and down your hole.

“Relax for me, and breathe, okay.”

No matter how much you’ve thought you’ve trained your asshole, it was always a stretch. But when Harry did it, he always made sure you were comfortable and there wasn’t any discomfort.

As he slowly works the plug in. Just a bit. Then out again. Then in a little bit more than out. It was maddening. The teasing. You can’t help but squirm. Feeling his erection against you didn’t help either.

“Daddy.” You moan, and Harry spanked you once, but hard.

“Baby,” he warns. “I’m trying to be patient but you’re only going to make this punishment worse. Be good, okay? Take what I give you.”

You know you shouldn’t be enjoying this half as much as you are. This is a punishment, afterall. But he’s finally giving you the attention you’ve been craving for weeks, and you can’t help but to make your request anyway. “More, please.” you squeaked

“More?” He teases. All you wanted was to feel the stretch of the plug, but he was taking things so painfully slowly.“You want to be filled up, Baby Love?”

“Yes.” you moan, “please.”and you jump as another spank lands onto your ass. The mix of pain and pleasure was almost maddening as it was becoming more difficult to focus on coming up with words, as your whole body was a light with pleasure.

“Be patient.” Harry tuts, “We gotta work it in baby, you want Daddy’s cock in there one day don’t you?”

The thought alone makes you squirm, and whine in Harry’s lap.“Yes” you moan.

“Then we have to go slow. You can barely fit this little guy, how do you expect to take Daddy’s big cock without any practice?” He reaches up, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me baby”

“I don’t know.” you whimper, nibbling at your bottom lip.

You were deep into subspace now, and he knew answering was getting more and more difficult for you. All the more reason to tease you. Harry smiles devilishly, caressing your face, “I know baby. That’s okay. But I need you to take what I give you, and stop complaining. Or your spanking is going to be worse. Do you want the flogger?”

You actually wouldn’t mind the flogger. You loved the thud of the heavy leather strips striking your back, but you shake your head, deciding it’s in your best interest to do as Harry says.

“Alright then, if you want to be full you have to be patient.”

You lay your head back down on your folded hands, and let out a deep breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to focus on the feeling of the plug teasing your ass. It was only a few more in’s and out’s before your ass accepted the plug, sucking it in allowing you to let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of being so deliciously full.

“There you go sweetheart,” Harry smiles tapping the rose at the end of the plug, the vibrations it sent through you making you let out a deep groan. “What do we say?” he prompts, spanking each of your cheeks.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whine.

He massages your ass for a moment before a hand travels back down to your folds. “Even messier now, baby.” He leans down kissing your ass, teeth sinking into the flesh. “Such a good fucking girl. And so pretty, all plugged up.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome baby.” Harry chuckled darkly. He picks up rubbing the smooth leather across each cheek very lightly tapping it on each one. Just to prepare you for the sensation.

“You remember the rules about the paddle?” Harry asks, running it over your ass lightly. You nod your head, looking over your shoulder at him, “Tell me.”

“Count each one, and say thank you after.” you

“Good girl.” He smiles proudly. “How many do you think you deserve?”

“Ummm -” you nibble on your lip, trying your hardest to think straight. “Ten?”

“That’s adorable, baby…You’re getting twenty.”

You groan, burrowing your face into the sheets. Squirming in his lap, earning another harsh spank.

“Twenty-five.” Harry amends sternly.

“Wha - why?!” you mumble

“Ten for not wearing panties. Ten for not telling me how needy your greedy little pussy was tonight. And five because you won’t stop squirming after I’ve already warned you twice, Lovie.”

You let out a little moan but nod your head. It seemed fair, but it was gonna push your limits, as it’s five more than you’ve ever done. But you could do it, and you’ll probably enjoy it more than you should.

“Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy.” you confirm.

“Good girl. What’s your color?”

“I’m Green.”

“Alright. I’m going to start, now okay?” Harry warns, and you give him a nod.

The first one lands on your right cheek hard. Harder than you anticipated, and it makes you cross your legs.

“One! Thank you.” you wince.

“No,no.” He says prying your legs open open again, landing a light spank onto your drenched folds. “Keep them open.” Harry warns, massaging the warmth of your cheek before giving you the next strike.

“Two. Thank you.”

The strikes continue just like that. The paddle makes contact, alternating between cheeks, you count and give thanks. While he massages between each one. Some come in quick succession. Some are spaced out, making you moan in anticipation. There’s no real pattern and it keeps you on edge in the best way.

“Twenty. Thank you sir” you whimper, looking over your shoulder. Hoping maybe he’d forget about the last five if he saw you. There’s a few tears now, not so much from the pain of the paddle, just…everything. With each strike of the paddle, the plug jiggles giving you a pleasure so deep you can’t describe. You're desperate and so floaty, deep in subspace and more than anything you just really want to cum!. You just want it to get to the reward part of the night. But you are a good girl, so you stayed still, took your punishment, opting for a tight grip on the sheets rather than squirming around in Harry’s lap.

“Good girl. Baby. You're doing such a good job taking your punishment. So good for me, baby.” He praises, soothing the warm skin with his large palm. “What’s your color?” He checks in, when he sees your eyes glass and teary.

“I’m still green,” you whisper

“Okay. Turn around, we’re almost done.”

He doles out the rest of your spanks quickly, not giving you much time to count. But you try your best anyway.

“Twenty five. Thank you sir.” you sigh, letting out a deep breath

“Good girl!” He praises. He tosses the paddle to the side, pulling you up to have you sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He places a hand protectively at the back of your neck making you look up at him. He’s smiling like an idiot, so proud of you and you can’t help but crack a smile just as proud of yourself for taking your punishment so well.

He nods between you towards his right thigh “Look at that baby.” you look down seeing a dark spot on his jeans. Your brows knit together, before your eyes meet Harry’s again, “That’s you, baby.”

“Oh.” you mumble a little embarrassed. “Sorry.” You whisper trying to bury yourself into his neck but he stops squeezing your cheeks together with one hand, forcing your eyes on his.

“Nothing to be sorry about. You just need Daddy to make the aching go away, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout trying to grind your hips down into him, but Harry stops you, with a firm hand on your hip.

“Yeah, I know.” he takes the hand squishing your cheeks, snaking it down between the two of you pinching your already clamped nipple once before his fingers finally - finally make contact with your folds. You moan out. Resting your head on Harry’s shoulder, burying your face in his neck, as his hand travels up and down your folds, spreading your wetness.His free arm, secured around your waist, holding you upright.

Harry turns his head, lips pressed against your ear,“There you go baby. That feels so good hm? You like my fingers on your clit.” his fingers slow to a stop, not satisfied with your lack of response, subspace or not, “Talk to Daddy, Love.”

“Yes! So much. It’s so good -”

“Eyes on me,” he demanded, pulling your face out of his neck, trying your best to keep your eyes open, as he worked his magic on your clit. As soon as your eyes meet his, he sinks his middle finger inside. The coolness of his rings against your folds makes you shiver. He works it in for a moment before selfishly adding his ring finger into the mix. You both groan as your pussy greedily accepts a second finger. “Fuck baby, you’re suckin’ me in.” He leans forward sucking on your neck. Nibbling on your ear as he pumps faster. Curling them just right, “that feel good?”

“Mhmm. Oh, fuck,” you wine gripping ong his shoulder a hand in his hair tugging the way you know he likes. The way you’ve been craving all night.

You’re already so full. The plug was still firmly placed in ass, sitting heavy as you sat straddling him, his thumb working on your clit…it was almost too much! You were right on the edge of ecstasy when Harry inserted yet a third finger, methodically working on your G-spot.

“Shit! Daddy, I’m -” you cry out, looking down at his fingers going in and out of you, and the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge. Everything was catching up to you now, Harry’s fingers stuffing your pussy, the plug snug in your ass, the clamps tight on your nipples. You just needed one more thing.

“I want you to cum on my fingers baby,okay? Be good and show me how good it feels, and fucking come on my fingers.” The groan you let out is almost too raw, one of pure ecstasy. Then he says the thing that just about sends you over the edge. “Come on, my rings baby.”

“Daddy….” you whine,you were so close. So so close but you didn’t want it like this. You want to feel Harry. All of him. “No.” You whimper, causing him to pull away slightly, to get a good look at you.

“No? You don’t want to come baby? Since when does my greedy girl not want to cum?” He doesn’t slow his fingers, while his eyes bore into you. Not at all. They speed up, and curl them even more, stroking and prodigy at your G-spot, coaxing you closer and closer.

“Want….cock. Wanna cum on your cock.” You pout trying so hard not to come. And surprisingly you were doing a good job at it. You were historically terrible at holding your orgasms, but tonight seemed to be all about pushing your limits.

Harry smirks, leaning forward sucking your bottom lip in his mouth nibbling on it hard. He’s so hungry for you. Desperate almost. He has to see you come. He craves it.

“You will. Don’t worry.” He gives you another quick peck, “I’ll let you come on my cock. But you gotta give me what I want first. Okay? Gotta be good and come on my fingers first, then I’ll give you what you want.” You whine some more, leaning forward wrapping your arms around Harry tighter, still holding back. He can feel how tense you are, you’ve always been a stubborn girl, even when it’s not in your own best interests, it makes him smirk, a bit before he doubles his efforts on your clit.

“I promise. Baby Girl. Just let go. Show me your a good girl, come on.” He pulls you out of his neck again, hand on your cheek forcing you to look at him. “Let go. I got you. I got you-“ and just like that you're coming in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and gushing all over Harry’s fingers, with those emerald eyes looking deep into your soul. He feels it too, feels your pussy convulses and gushes around his fingers. Your body tightens up before going completely lax in his lap. “Good fucking girl. There she is. Oh baby there you go so good for me.” You let out a groan unlike anything you’ve ever done before. Gripping at his hair and grinding down on his fingers and your pussy convulses and gushes, around his fingers.He slows them down before slowly withdrawing, tapping your clit softly a few times, for good measure. He brings his hands up to his lips, making a show of licking his fingers clean, before his hand goes back down between your legs, cupping your pussy, reveling in the feeling of it still pulsating with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath.

“Than-thank you Daddy” you hiccup. Kissing his neck.

“Your welcome, baby. You okay?” he asks, and you nod against his shoulder. “Look at me, please baby.” you do as you're told, though finding it difficult to keep your eyes open. “Good baby.” He leans forward kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips, and it drives you mad. “Hold onto me.” He demands sweetly. You adjust yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Harry stands up and turns. Setting you back on your feet allows the back of your knees to hit the mattress.

“Lay back on the pillows, for me?” he asks sweetly, with a kiss on your forehead. You nod eagerly, crawling up on the bed, laying out knees bent and feet flat.

Harry’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you. He knee walks his way up the bed. Laying on his stomach, his face level with your pussy, kissing down your thighs, making your breath hitch. You roll your hips up at his hot breath fanning over your wet sensitive lips and Harry smiles.

“Need something?” he chuckles. You open your mouth,closing it quickly, debating on if you want to reveal just how greedy you’re feeling. “Baby…” he prompts, and you give in.

“Mouth. Please?” you whisper, giving your best doe eyes.

“I thought you wanted my cock? Begged for it.”

“That too!” you rush out with a pout.

“I’m only teasing,Lovie,” Harry chuckles, “My greedy girl. Got my fingers now you want both my mouth and cock.” You cover your face, and attempt to close your legs, but fail. Harry kisses up your body, removing your hands from your face, placing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna give them to you. Punishment is all over. Now I just wanna play with my girl. Give you everything you want. Do you know why?”

“Because I deserve it.” you recite with a smile, like you’ve done so many times before.

“That’s right. You deserve,” Harry kisses your right right cheek, “all the praise,” he kisses your left cheek, “and all the orgasms,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “because your my Good Girl.” he smile before finally locking his lips to yours in a deep kiss, letting out a groan when you get brave and dip your tongue into his mouth.

It’s always been the simple things with Harry that gets to you the most. The way he dresses, how gentle he was with you. The way his lips felt on yours, the way they worked down your neck, not to mention the little noises he makes when you make out with him, and grind up into his hips. It all drove you wild. Just as much as it drove him mad. He craved you like you did him. It was almost like you fed off of one another, the neediness, the pure carnal want for one another. You were perfect together.

Slowly Harry pulls away, kissing down your body, nibbling playfully as he goes until he is situated back between your thighs. Harry reaches for one of your hands at your side, placing your hand in his hair, lacing the other with his. He kisses each thigh, before kissing the top of your mound. He taps on the plug reminding you it’s still there.

“Are you still okay with this in? It’s not uncomfortable?” he asks,and you shake your head.

“No.” you mumble, shaking your hand, “I like it. Feel full.”

“I know.” He leans in lightly kissing your clit. “You have the prettiest pussy baby. You know that? ‘S gorgeous. Could live right here. Between your beautiful thick thighs.”

You let out a whine rolling your hips up impatiently, and Harry jerks his head away, giving you a knowing look, “Sorry. I’ll be still I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.” Harry smiles, kissing your clit lightly once more before finally - finally delving in. Like a starved man, Harry is lapping at your folds up and down the length of your pussy before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Creating a light suction, almost pulsating it, and flicking over it gently with his tongue.

You were in complete bliss, with the way he was eating you out, you’d come in no time, much to Harry’s delight.

“Oh god -” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter, pulling his face closer to you by the back of his head. “More - please.” If you weren’t feeling as amazing as you were you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound.

“That’s my girl!” He moans against you. “Take what you need,Love.” His free hand moves to the plug, slowly pulling it out a tad before pushing it back it fucking you with the toy. All while his mouth kept a vacuum seal around your pussy.

“Daddy…”

“Come on my tongue baby.” He encourages. “Come on baby. Show me how good it feels sweetheart.” He groans right into your pussy as you pull at his scalp, he shakes his head back and forth, the friction and vibration, driving you wild.

It’s filthy and messy and it feels unreal. Before you have a chance to savor the feeling, you're coming in a rush, the coil in your lower belly snapping as you come on Harry’s tongue as requested, body tingling from the sensation.

Harry brings his licks to a slow stop, giving your pussy one final peck, making you shiver. He kisses his way up your body, and you're quick to bring him right back up to your face tasting yourself on his lips.

“Good girl, lovie.” He growls against your lips, “Fuck.” He pins the hand that he’s kept intertwined with his above your head, taking a hold of your other one and doing the same. He works his way down your neck nibbling and sucking on your favorite spot.

When he finally finishes his assault on your neck, he looks down at you to see. Your eyes have gone glassy again, this time, with tears brimming your eyes. He always seems to manage to bring you to tears. It only happens when you’ve been particularly needed, and he makes you feel especially good, but he’s always proud of himself when he can make it happen.

“Oh baby,” He sighs, leaning his weight on your hips grinding into yours. “That felt so good didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“I know, baby. Your body’s just so sensitive, huh?” He punctuates it with a pull of the nipple clamp chain you’d nearly forgotten about..

“Yeah Daddy, so sensitive. It’s -I-”

“Shhh I know baby it’s a lot. I’m here tho okay. You're safe. Your okay.” He leans down, kissing you again, not as deep, trying to bring you back up a bit before he continues. He ends the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours. “What’s your color baby?” he asks.

“Green.” you smile at him, rolling your hips up into his.

“You still want to come on my cock?”

“Yes please Daddy please please please,” you beg, only a little embarrassed.

“Okay. I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so patient.” So have I. Harry thinks.

He lets your wrist go and they instantly tangle in his curls once more, forcing his lips down onto yours. You snake a hand down and attempt to fumble with the buckle of his jeans. “Off. Feel” you mumble between kisses.

“You wanna feel me against you?” he asks, and you nod your head fervently. You loved the feeling of being skin to skin with Harry, you’d never feel closer to him than when you were skin to skin. He manuvores his jeans down and you're happily met with the feeling of him pressed against your folds. Making you both groan out.

“That Better?” he smirks and you smile

“Much.” you smile. Harry reaches for the plug, and begins to tug at it. But you stop him with a whine in protest, “No. Wanna be full.”

“You wanna be fucked with the plug?” He double checks. But by the pout on your lips, he knows you mean it. “Filthy girl.” he smirks, “Alright. I’ll leave it okay?” He’s never fucked you with the plug in, the thought’s been floating around your head for a while, and with how needy you were, you figured tonight would be the perfect night to try.

Harry leans down kissing you with his hard leaking cock in one hand the other cradling your cheek in the other, as he runs the head up and down your folds a few times. He revels in the feeling for as long as you let him, before breaching just the tip inside of your pussy. It’s a tighter fit than usual with the plug still inside, and it takes both of you back. You gasp, a good gasp but he feels you tighten even more.

“Shhh baby relax,” he kisses you all over your face. “You gotta breathe for me, okay?” You nod and let out a breath as he slowly enters you, until he’s fully inside. “Oh good girl. Shit baby. You’re so full, huh?” He groans, kissing your cheek.

“Yeah you squeak oh, so. I’ve never -”

“I know, baby. Oh fuck. I’m just gonna stay like this till you tell me to move okay.” He says as he moves into your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin there.

After a few moments of Harry sucking onto your neck, you begin to roll your hips up into his, grinding down on his cock, drawing out deep groans from the both of you. He takes it as a sign that you're ready, that you can take him and so he begins to rock his hips with deep shallow thrusts. It allows you to and you relish at the fullness of both Harry’s cock and the pink rose plug. The pleasure is almost too much, it’s got your whole body tingling, and warm.

“Good girl baby. Taking it so well. Fuck.” he growls, leaning his forhead on yours. He slowly draws his hip back further and further before diving back in.

“Harder.” you whine, and Harry grants your request, fucking you harder into the materss, holding onto your hips tight as he pounded into you.

“You feel so good baby, you know that? Do you know how good you make Daddy feel, baby?” he urges. “Your pussy’s like heaven to me baby.” He groans looking, with nothing but love and adoration.

“Gonna come Daddy!”

He picks up his pace, fucking you hard, and fast. The only thing in the room being heard is the sound of skin against wet skin, and your carnal moans. Your fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands as you get closer and closer to the edge once more, before your coming undone again, convulsing under him.

“Atta Girl! Good job baby,"Harry smiles, kissing you passionately, “give me one more.”

“Can’t,” you moan. You’re so sensitive, you feel amazing, but you have no idea how much more you can take. But as Harry grinds down into you, a hand snaking down to your clit, you can feel yourself, getting closer and closer. You don’t think you can stop it. “Can’t Daddy. I- oh god.” Your whole body was a light, as you felt your peak approaching again quickly, gripping onto Harry’s shoulders, holding him to you as you buried yourself in his neck.

“Yes you can,” Harry groans, “Can feel you squeezing me, your pussy’s begging for it. Come for me baby. Come on my cock, like you wanted to,” he caresses your face in one hand, getting your attention, your eyes open to look right at him, “Show me.”

You open your mouth trying to speak, but the words escape you, too wrapped up in the pleasure, But Harry, ever the attentive boyfriend, knows what you were trying to say. to speak but can’t get the words out but he knows what you were trying to say. “You can do it, Baby Girl. Come for me. Give me one more, and let Daddy fill up your pretty pussy. Give it to me baby, so I can give you your come.”

///Your/// come. Yours. That’s what does it for you. It’s what always does it for both of you. The ownership. Because he was just as much yours and you were his. Including orgasms. And just like that you come in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and tears in your eyes. Loud, and hard, whining in Harry’s ear, writhing underneath him, holding onto him with all your might.

“Good fucking girl. Oh fuck. There you go.” He growls into your ear, before crashing his lips down to yours. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to make me come.”

“Please” you whine holding his face, looking at him deep in those emerald eyes. “ Give it to me, please.” And he’s a goner. Eyes rolled back, body tensing, and thrust going sloppy as he spurts white ropes, painting your walls. And you relish the feeling.

Harry collapses on top of you, burying his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling, giving you praise as you both tried to catch your breath. When he feels that your heart has stopped beating as fast, and he feels himself softening inside of you is when he decides it’s time to pull out. But you resist, tightening your legs around his hips, the hand that’s made its way into his hair tightening.

“Not yet please.” you request with a pout.

“Okay. Okay I’ll stay.” He whispers kissing across your collarbone. “Just a bit longer.”

After enough time has passed, Harry looks up at you, “You with me?” he asks. You hum, eyes closed dopey grin on your lips and he can tell that you’re still in that floaty place, maybe not as deep but you definitely weren’t fully present.

“Daddy…” you whine just above a whisper.

“S’ just Harry baby. Just me.” You pout. You didn’t want to be done, but a look at the clock on your nightstand tells you you've been at it for a while so you try and tell yourself to come back to earth. “You’re okay. I’m here. Hey look at me.” he urges, bringing a hand to your face, “Your safe okay. I’m gonna pull out now and take out the plug and then we’ll get all cleaned up okay?”

“Okay.” you smile. You whine when he pulls out but he soothes you with a kiss to your forehead and a promise of returning soon.

He’s back in a flash with a warm damp cloth and some tissues. “You still feelin’ a little floaty huh, baby?” He smirks as he cleans you up.

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay. Just let me take care of you okay?” you nod and he goes to work on cleaning the mess between your legs. “You did so well tonight baby. Took everything so well. You're my best girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s right. He reaches for the plug.

“You gotta relax for me. Gotta get this guy out of ya. Take a break out for me.” he instructs, taking it out slowly before placing it on the nightstand on the tissue. He kisses your inner thigh before kissing his way up your body. “Wrap around me.” he instructs, and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms around him, as he lifts you up and walks you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet. “Go on. You know the drill.” he chuckles when you look at him shyly. He turns to the bath, giving you privacy to pee, as he runs the bath. Adding all your smell, good scents and bubbles.

By the type you're all bathed, dried and back in bed, you seem much more like yourself.

“You feeling good?” He asks.

“So good.” you chuckle, “Thank you Harry. I really needed that.”

Harry laughs and kisses your temple, “I could tell. But you never have to thank me for giving you pleasure. It’s an honor to give it to you.”

You feel your face heat up, as you shake your head and burrow yourself into the softness of his chest.”

“Still. I- you always make me feel good and idk I want you to know I love you and I appreciate you making me feel good. Even when I’m getting punished.”

“Love you too, Baby Love.”

✨masterlist✨∣ ✨yap & request box✨

[juliewillruinu]

"One Last Time" | Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Pov: You're being married off by your clan which caused you to distance yourself from Toji, but how will you react to finding out he is also being arranged to marry another woman?

18+ MDNI

Dom Toji x fem!reader, smut, P in V, no protection, overflowing cum, slight degrading, cheating (kinda, but not really), ass smacking, and a bit of fingering. (I do not own the artwork above.)

You promised yourself you wouldn't see him again. That your eyes would never meet his.

You promised yourself that you'd live a good life without him. You didn't need him any longer.

You promised yourself to do what was best for your clan. They were your priority.

You promised yourself that you'd be happy with your future husband. You'd learn to love him.

You smiled whenever someone mentioned the name of your fiance, a man, not named Toji. A man you've never met in person. You'd tell them, "I know I'll be happy with him. I've heard so many good things about him."

Everything was sunshine and rainbows until you heard the news that Toji was to be marry into another clan. You acted as if you were fine with it but you were not. Toji was yours. Your family could sell you off to another clan all they wanted, but to know that while you were gone another woman would keep him company, take over your role in his life, it saddened you, it pissed you off, it made you want to strangle yourself. You spent nights crying yourself to sleep. What were you going to do? Was there anything you could do? You could only choose family or love. In this time and age, you couldn't dare have both.

You promised yourself you'd never let his skin grace yours again.

Yet, here you are. Crying in Toji's arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck as his back is rested against the wall of your room. He entered carefully and quietly through your window. He heard how you shut yourself away recently, he knew why. He knew he had to comfort you. One last time.

You told him, "I can be without you, Toji."

"You told me you didn't need me."

You pulled away to bore your red orbs into his and spoke hastily. "I lied! I do need you so don't marry that woman. Don't hurt me like this anymore."

Toji yanked your chin, drawing your face close to his. In that moment, you saw an intensity in his eyes that was unlike anything you had ever witnessed before. His usual demeanor, so often marked by indifference and a seemingly impenetrable exterior, was shattered. The anger and vulnerability in his gaze revealed a depth of emotion you had never seen in him.

He had always seemed untouchable, as though nothing could truly affect him. But now, with you so close, everything was different. You were the only person who had ever seen beyond his Zenin lineage, who had looked at him not as a member of a powerful clan but simply as Toji. The memory of your words, "You're not a Zenin to me. I see you as just Toji," echoed in his mind, a poignant reminder of the rare connection you shared.

"You're not the only one who feels hurt by this. Do you think I like the idea of another man having his lips against yours?" His lips were dangerously close to yours. It made you shiver in anticipation. "Do you think I want him to touch what is mine? Just knowing you'll spend your wedding night with him makes me want to rip his head off. I can't let you go like that."

"Then don't." You said almost pleading. "Don't let him take me away, Toji."

"Do you think he could fuck you this good, huh? I know all your weak spots. He'd be an amateur compared to me. Don't you think?"

"...yes, yes, yes..."

Your moans filled the room as you watched how mercilessly Toji was fucking you through your vanity mirror. His eyes scrunched close as his hand held one of your wrists down and held your hand in his other. His large, vainy cock had you stretched out, vigorously entering to hit your vulnerable spots and your insides, sucking him right back in when he pulled back. Sweat glistened off both your bodies as the force he was using was causing your bed to shake. The heavy storm outside kept your screams from being heard by the servants who might be walking around during these late hours. Toji kept his promise when he told you that'd he'd fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for your wedding.

Red love bites were left on your neck and breasts while you returned the favor by leaving faint scratch marks on his chest and back and teeth marks on his shoulders.

You hissed as Toji's tip pounded against the one spot you enjoyed the most. You were close again. Just a little longer and you'd melt for him again. Toji must have gotten the message as his eyes fluttered open before making contact with yours through the mirror. You could see a mischievous smirk grow on his face. He could feel your insides slowly clamping down on his cock, almost ready to rip it off him.

"Who gave you permission to come yet?" Before you had a chance to answer, Toji had already pulled his cock out causing a slight "pop" noise to occur. His cum from previous rounds began to ooze out of you now that there wasn't anything to keep it inside. It practically left you whining.

"Don't take it out. I was s'close."

"Naughty girl, you have no shame do you? Tomorrow you'll be someone's wife and here you are drooling for your lovers cock?"

He took his teasing further and inserted his index finger which he pumped back and forth against your walls. He wouldn't even give you at least two fingers, not that it would have been enough to help you finish, but it would give much better results than one finger and Toji knew this well.

"Toji, put it back in...please."

"Do you want it that bad?" You nodded frantically. "Then go ahead take it. Milk it, make yourself cum on it, but you'll be the one doing all the work."

You sat up seeing Toji lay his scratched back against the bed before getting on top of him with your shaking legs. You weren't used to being on top and his posture made it seem as if he'd have you do all the work, but you didn't mind. If he was allowed to prove to you that no man could fuck you the way he could, it was only right to prove to him that no woman would ever be good enough for him unless it was you.

One of his hands traveled up your thigh, fingers caressing your supple skin while the other attempted to align his cock to your entrance. His hand went to your hips, ready to help ease you down on it only to be met by your boldness as you slammed yourself down on his thick length. He threw his head back, grunting as your insides molded around him perfectly causing his cock to pulsate in excitement. His large hands gripped each side of your bum, begging for you to move already. You placed your hands on his toned stomach to keep yourself balanced and began to move up and down. You took your precious time, taking it nice and slow. Toji shouldn't be the only one allowed to tease.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson from earlier."

"Ah!"

He growled giving your ass a hard smack that left a burning sensation, "don't be a brat."

'You're the one acting like one,' you said to yourself before you picked up the pace. Each time you move down his cock the skin of your bum and his shaft made loud slapping noises that left his gulping.

"Fuck, just like, princess. So fucking tight. You like that don't you?"

You met another slap on your ass when you didn't respond fast enough.

"Yes! It's the best, Toji! It's so fucking good!"

The bed creaked underneath the both of you, his cock hitting every spot imaginable. You could feel his cock start to swell, he was close just as were you. He pulled you down against his chest, wrapping a arm around you waist to keep you attached to him while his other hand pushed down on your bum as he jerks his hips up. There's no doubt about it. You were so cock drunk that even your moans sounded incoherent. It felt like your mind was elsewhere while the center of your stomach tightened.

His hot breath brushed against your skin, "Tell me who you love. Come on, tell me, little whore."

"You! I love you! Fuck, Toji. I love you." He hungrily smashed his lips against yours giving you no time to breathe. His tongue wrestling against yours, seeking for its submission to him. You fisted at the pillows near his head as his cock was destroying your insides. Your thoughts only focused on Toji as he nipped at your bottom lip.

"I can't hold it anymore~"

"Fuck, me too. Come on, princess. Give it to me and I'll reward you."

Toji, in the throes of passion, drives his hips firmly against you one last time. His release is powerful, filling you with a warm, thick sensation as his cum spreads inside you. You feel him pulse and release, the heat and pressure intensifying as he finishes.

As he remains inside you, the sensation of his cum beginning to overflow adds a heightened sense of fullness. Your body responds instinctively, your lower body jolting slightly as the sensation of his release overwhelms you. The tightness in your stomach starts to ease, replaced by a warm, satisfying relaxation.

•••

You and Toji laid sideway near each other, your bodies hidden underneath the silk sheets. You could feel his warm lips press against your head as you buried your face in his chest. His strong hand move up and down your back. His touch, his scent his breathing, they were all so comforting. How could you possible live without this man?

"Toji, let's run away. Tonight. Just me and you. Let's never come back here." Your spoke with a straight face, Toji rested his chin over your head, chuckling at your serious tone.

"What about your clan, hmm?"

"..Screw them.."

[namism]

Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Mihawk x civillian reader and about how their relationship would work with him being the world's strongest swordsman and the reader being an ordinary civillian with no fighting skills, no haki and no devil fruit? Thank you for taking the time for reading my message. 🙃

not a hero, lover | dracule mihawk

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral civilian reader, failed kidnapping scenario

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳ summary: Running into the face of danger is a price you pay for dating the world's strongest swordsman and Warlord of the Sea, Dracule Mihawk.

➳ notes: i wasn't too sure about this so i might write headcanons next time. thank you for requesting! 🍷

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Years after Mihawk was globally recognized as the "Strongest Swordsman in the World," he found himself getting bored.

There was no competition, no enemy who wanted to challenge him because everyone feared him (pirates, Marines, and civilians alike) beyond the perilous waters of the Grand Line. Even as he searched far and wide for an opponent worthy of fighting, no one ever came close.

So he took the peace that came with it, the solitude that came with being feared by all and many, as well as the privileges of a Warlord who was untouchable by the Marines and wandered out and about. He was vacationing in islands in the East Blue, sometimes the North, and regularly the Grand Line to find something that interested him. That was when he met you.

As a vineyard owner, you were popular among the locals of your town for cultivating a special cultivar of the common grapevine. You had hectares of land, and you sold the best wine. Mihawk was interested the moment he stumbled upon your stand at the bay market, and knowing himself, he couldn't resist purchasing a bottle.

Although one bottle became two, and two bottles became four. There was something about the wine you sold that made him come back for more, sailing off to your town on days when he needed to restock, until you decided one day that he was a loyal customer.

On his eighth visit, he realized he had a problem.

Or rather, problems. He had a drinking problem and a crush problem.

He was disgusted. Not by you, but with himself.

Mihawk had no business calling anyone a crush at his age. He was in his 40s and it revolted him every time he thought of having a "crush"—but unlike his drinking problem, it was an issue that could be resolved with a simple meeting, a simple question.

Mihawk took the liberty of visiting once more on a random evening. As you were closing down, he waited at the corner street until you were ready to settle for the night.

When you emerged, Mihawk caught you by surprise and introduced himself for the first time. He expected you to run amok and start a panic among the civilians, but you giggled to yourself and invited him over. The next thing he knew, he was looking into the horizon, admiring the stretch of land that housed rows and rows of the cultivar he loved. He was silent as he admired the sight, but he didn't tell you that.

Instead, he told you how good your wine tasted, that it tasted complex on his palate after he swallowed and waited for the aftertaste. Then he dropped the question.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" he asked.

You were surprised.

But you accepted.

It still feels like yesterday, even though a lot has changed. It has only been five months or so, yet Mihawk visits every week whenever he can, sometimes more when he's bored. He stays at your place on nights when you can't sleep alone, and you spend it on the hill overlooking your vineyard with some late-night wine. Mihawk has to be more careful now that he's committed to you, as he would be attracting criminals left and right. While his Warlord status keeps the Marines and weaker pirates at bay, he's positive that trouble will come regardless. If they aren't after him, they would be after you.

You suppose it's a price you pay for dating him. Although you hope to steer clear of danger, you wouldn't give up your lover for anything.

"I should teach you," Mihawk suggests one day as you walk across the vineyard, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"Teach me what?" you ask.

"How to hold a sword," he says. "How to fight. You live too close to the town that pirates roam often. You must learn how to protect yourself."

"Hmm. I'll think about it."

Born an ordinary human, you have not once faced danger in your life. Nothing ever called for the need for combat, swordsmanship, or the arcane power of the Haki unlike the pirates who sail the seas. You come from a place of privilege, but it soothes your nerves that your life is peaceful.

Mihawk warned you several times that he was going to bring trouble before dating you, yet it didn't bother you one bit despite your lacking abilities. You knew he was strong and you trusted him. He can protect you on his own just fine even if you aren't skilled at fighting.

Well, not quite.

Tonight is one of those nights when you can't sleep a wink, so you invited Mihawk over who didn't need much convincing to come. As you arrive at the hill where you spend most nights together in secret, you notice something strange.

A gust of wind blows west. The smell of fire wafts in the air, followed by the scent of burnt grass. You hold your lantern out in the dark. You're close to the hill's peak where no one rarely goes, yet something feels bizarre.

You sniff the air. The scent is awfully close. When you trudge up the hill and reach the very top, your eyes land on the remains of a campfire under a mahogany tree. Two cups of steel lay on the ground empty like someone was just here with another, the other cup knocked over like someone had just scampered away.

You shudder.

You and Mihawk never made a fire. No one else should even have access to this place besides you.

Suddenly, a man pounces on you from behind.

"Ahhh! Let go of me!" you wail as you struggle against his grip. A big man who can overpower you, he binds your hands together with a rope and throws you over his shoulder. "Ugh! Please—"

A second shadow emerges from your peripheral vision. Holding a rope, he binds your feet together and poorly stuffs a cloth in your mouth. Squirming, you spit out the cloth. He forces a hand on your face to still you, but you bite down on him, causing him to pull away.

"Why, you little—"

"Help!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The other man tries to suppress you, but you wrestle out of his clutch. "Mihawk! Someone, please— ew, don't touch me!"

"Just shut up already!" He slaps you across the face, and you quiet down. His accomplice snatches the cloth and ties it around your mouth.

"Shit at fighting, but amazing at biting." He grimaces as he looks down at his bleeding hand. "Stupid one! Couldn't get your man to teach you how to fight, so you bite people?!"

You thrash around and howl suppressed cries. He points downhill with a weak finger.

"Pack it up. We'll leave before anyone hears."

As they trek down the hill, you start to accept your fate. They're burglars. You've seen them in the newspaper a long time ago when they made it to the local news. They primarily targeted property owners and emporiums, but you were out of their radar because your vineyard was two blocks down the constabulary. Now that you're associated with Mihawk (and news of his frequent visits has spread among the island felons), they suppose they can get him by taking you hostage, even if it meant waking the constables in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, but hear what, exactly?"

In just a split second, the man holding you falls to his knees and lets you go. You stumble backward helplessly as he screams in agony. Blood seeps through his vest, a pool of liquid collecting on the grass under which he lays. Suddenly, a gust zips past you, and the man's accomplice gets down. Mihawk cuts across his chest and fluidly swings his sword to pierce through him.

Your eyes close in fear. You inch away from the man below you and fiddle with the knot that fastens your hands.

A few feet away, Mihawk scoffs.

"'Before anyone hears?' Anyone would have figured it out by now. You fools run around like mice."

"Mihawk!" you exclaim. He quickly runs over to you and helps you out of your plight. As your limbs break free, you untie the cloth around your mouth and lean into your lover. "Good god, I was so scared! I thought you wouldn't come, I—"

"I'm sorry," he says exasperatedly. He strokes your cheek softly with his fingers, eyes casting downward. "Were you hurt?"

You shake your head. "No. Just horrified."

He sighs.

"I'm afraid we can't stay here. If they find these two gone, they will look for you," he says. "Did you lock up the yard?"

"Yes," you say. "Why?"

"Come to Kuraigana with me."

"Like, where you live? I-I'll leave with you?"

He pats your head gently. "Just for tonight, my dear. We'll be back in the morning when it's safer."

You breathe out. Mihawk expects an answer.

"Fine. Take me with you."

Mihawk offers a hand and hoists you from the ground. At that moment, you lean into him for a hug as you look away from the lifeless bodies below your feet. A shudder runs through your back once again.

"Thank you for saving me, hero," you tease. Mihawk almost chokes on his spit as he cringes, but he keeps you close to his chest.

"Not a hero. Just your lover," he corrects. "Anyway, about that training I was telling you a month ago..."

"I'm in. Please, go and lead the way."