#I am prone to hoping too hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mooishbeam · 1 year ago

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『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.

He knew that and got greedy.

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.

“Mhm.”

“Will you change?”

“No.”

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.

Maybe you never mattered in the first place.

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying.

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday.

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs.

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over.

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat.

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off.

“I love you too, Shoko.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty.

“Mm, I’ll manage.”

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight.

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair.

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.”

“‘N how’s that gonna help?”

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.”

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny.

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.”

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.”

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.”

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.”

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.”

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings.

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene.

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself.

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching.

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result?

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real.

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night.

And you burst into tears.

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you.

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside.

“Wh’re you?” you garble.

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?”

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light.

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child.

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm.

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge.

“L’ve me alone”

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-”

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew.

Then, you shoot up.

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.

Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose.

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand.

“Finally up?”

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried.

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears.

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you.

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.

“It was fine.”

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance.

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?”

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?”

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times.

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication.

“Had business”

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment.

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy.

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation.

“’M not lyin’.”

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.”

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.”

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.”

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-”

“You could barely keep your eyes op-”

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!”

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone.

“...I know.”

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone.

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze.

“Are ya hungry?”

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances.

Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.”

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity.

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride.

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.”

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest;

“Pervert!”

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top.

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.

Not my business. You're nauseous.

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table.

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it.

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.

“You lost? Take her order” he spat.

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you.

“What’s funny?”

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.”

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors.

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say.

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be"

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests.

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."

"It did pay well."

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?"

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household.

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."

"Don't get used to it."

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof.

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality.

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.”

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again”

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “

“Give me your phone.”

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists.

You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today.

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself:

dumbass ex

tick, tock, tick, tock

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip.

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him.

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji.

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.”

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...”

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.”

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?”

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”.

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?”

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them.

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.”

You sigh, “It’s no one new.”

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops.

“Do not fucking say it.”

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!”

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.”

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!”

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath.

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place.

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.”

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app.

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn'

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?'

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?'

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes'

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.

Oh god.

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.

“…Hello?”

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction.

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.”

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you.

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs.

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no-

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.”

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.”

“They’re for you.”

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless.

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you.

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.”

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan.

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere.

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right?

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle.

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups.

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.”

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?”

“Us.”

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words.

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie.

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.”

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.”

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.”

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:("

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.”

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.”

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm.

Loving.

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks.

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything.

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip.

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.

“I don’t need healing. I need you.”

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation.

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?”

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement.

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip.

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue.

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.”

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans.

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?”

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow.

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-”

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.”

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.”

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.”

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.”

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence.

“And what else?”

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk.

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you.

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”

“Mhm!”

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth.

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come.

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air.

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm.

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight.

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close”

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.”

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek.

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear.

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go.

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs.

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?”

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?”

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain.

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other.

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?”

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.

“So, you’re the decision maker now?”

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.”

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.”

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?”

“No. You need nobody but me.”

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”

“I love you, too.”

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk

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maxlarens · 6 months ago

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OP: i can’t complain but i will

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader; oscar piastri & driver!reader & lando norris; lando norris x oscar piastri

word count: 2.4k+

an: here’s a little bit of angst a little bit of fluff and me holding myself back from making osc x reader x lan a poly ship😭 disclaimer: this isn’t an accurate reflection of the events of the Hungary GP. i take creative liberties as usual! and sorry to lewis. it’s still a mercedes P3 i guess😭 also here are my thoughts on the race so nothing is misconstrued here. AND gif credit because it keeps disappearing!

I. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out

Oscar crosses the finish line in Hungary and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Y’know, fine in the way where there’s this feeling in his chest. This thing gnawing at his insides. At his gut. And maybe it’s his helmet, maybe it’s the temperature, but there’s something on his cheeks. Heat. Something burning. Maybe.

His mind goes immediately to those clips he’d seen of Lando’s onboard in Miami. The shrill little giggles, the high-pitch of his teammates voice, the cheer of the crowd faintly in the background. Crackle hiss—

No one’s cheering for Oscar—

Tom is on the radio.

Oscar’s not stupid, not by a long shot. He can hear the strained quality of it, the forced cheerfulness.

Yeah. Oscar apologises before he can think twice about it. It just slips out of him. He thinks of you telling him— on a Tuesday night two weeks ago— that he needed to “stop saying sorry so fucking much, Oscar”. The way he’d been distracted by his name in your mouth. Oscar. Not Osc like he’s used to, or the occasional Oscie you’re prone to throw out. Oscar. Like you were serious.

Whatever. He says something to Tom that his publicist would be proud of. Waves at the grandstands. Tries not to think, not like this. I didn’t want it like this.

A sigh leeches out of him. Lando’s car is in his periphery and you’re trailing behind him as the three of you turn. The three of you on a podium… it’s a dream come true for him. But— yeah— not like this.

He’s in the car for too long. Helmet on his head, where no one can see his face. He’s okay, he thinks. He’s fine.

He thinks of being a little kid at Albert Park. Watching F1 in the living room late at night. Getting in a kart for the first time and feeling alive. And okay—

Yes, there’s a sour taste in his mouth. Words unsaid sitting on his tongue. But he’s starting to feel the smile tugging at his lips. The feeling is his chest starts to ease, just a little. Just a bit.

He’s looking up and there’s you and there’s Lando. You’re on opposite sides of the car, Lando’s reaching for him, for his hand. Clutching it tightly. Lando squeezes once, his helmet covered face bobs in a nod that says something… part of Oscar hopes it’s I’m sorry. Another part of him is mad that it may not be.

And you, well you have no idea the half hour he’s just had. But your hand is on his shoulder and then on the top of his helmet and you’re whacking it with a gusto he hadn’t expected. He thinks you might be crying. You keep reaching in through your visor to wipe at your eyes and it’s making Oscar feel sick. You’re crying and he’s sitting here feeling sorry for himself because the win wasn’t perfect.

Fuck.

So Oscar grins and he bears it.

He gets out of the car and he smooths it over until everything is okay again. Because that’s what he’s good at. Because that’s how he’s made it here. Oscar Piastri is a team player, sometimes more than he is anything else. And that’s okay, that’s fine for now, because one day, eventually, Oscar is going to be the reason they need to hire a team player. One day he’ll be the beating heart of some Formula One team and he won’t have to win a race because his teammate had to let him by—

That’s not Lando’s fault either. Lando is…

He’s Lando. Oscar gets it.

Oscar gets it more than anyone.

II. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay

Lando is trying so fucking hard not to have a tantrum.

It’s this infuriating feedback loop where he thinks I had it and then something cuts in to say but Oscar deserved it and then it starts over again. It’s making Lando feel like shit, for losing, for being a bad friend, for jeopardising the relative peace of the team. He’s trying to temper the angry, selfish little spoiled brat voice in his head but it’s so fucking hard to keep that dog on a leash.

He’s trying to be okay.

He’s in the post-race room with you and he’s trying to be fine.

And okay, so he knocks the stupid second place cap to the ground in front of the camera that’s broadcasting you guys to the world. Always second. God. He’d tasted a win in Miami and it’s almost like he’s worse off for it. It’s a win or it’s nothing and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s a voice in his head that’s saying, you’re just a one trick pony, Lando. Do it again and you might be worth something.

It’s making him crazy.

He bites his tongue. Turns to look at you, lounging in the third place chair like it doesn’t matter, like you’re happy to just be on the podium.

You raise an eyebrow at him, face blank but he knows what it says anyway. Be happy for him. He would be happy for you.

Fuck, and he would—

He would. Selfless and kind above all, Oscar.

Lando frowns, his back to the lens.

Your gaze flicks from him, to the hat on the floor. Pick it up, it says. Pick it up and pretend.

Lando picks it up. He’s the one who gave Oscar the position back after all. He’s his own worst enemy right now. Not you, certainly not Oscar—

Speaking of Oscar.

He’s here. He’s holding the first place cap that Lando wants to be his, he’s putting it on his head and Lando’s okay. Lando’s fine. He’s watching the race replay and seeing Max turn into your car and he’s trying desperately to look at that, pay attention to that, and not Oscar.

Because it hurts.

Not in a good way, not the way Lando looks at him sometimes and feels some yawning sun in his chest.

Instead there’s something bitter and snarling.

Some chained, angry dog on a leash.

Lando turns, goes to sit in the chair he doesn’t want to sit in, and catches Oscar’s eye. He feels the snarling thing strain, it goes to bark, to bite. Then Oscar smiles. It’s not much— it doesn’t reach his eyes exactly. But it’s effort. It’s thank you. It’s I know what that meant.

It’s enough.

III. He forgives you, dogs are like that, so loyal

You know something is off the second that you get out of the car. This isn’t what Oscar’s maiden win is supposed to look like— or it almost is, but the picture is wrong.

It’s not ecstatic, it’s not crowds chanting his name, it’s not Oscar getting out of the car like a shot and jumping into the arms of his team.

Instead, you see grim faces plastered over with smiles, McLaren engineers huddled into groups and talking in hushed tones. Lando’s sulking, you can tell by the set of his shoulders, the way people hover around him, keeping their distance a bit. You blink— there’s something in your eyes, your nose tingling with some emotion—

Whatever. You push it aside, go to Oscar’s car before anything else, before even taking your helmet off. It's you and Lando on opposite sides and whatever the case, whatever happened out there that you're not aware of, Lando's here. Lando's sucking it up.

You find out bits and pieces over the next hour, from your race engineer, from the post-race interviews, from Lando's attitude in the cool down room. The tension between them is bleeding into everything and they orbit around each other all afternoon. They can't quite look at each other, they keep making eye contact for a split second and then letting it slide away. They keep smiling these strained things at each other. Lando keeps reaching out to touch Oscar, but always at arms length. Like an apology neither of them can quite commit to.

You know it's the team that are the issue and it's also this hurt that Lando can't quite get over, and an Oscar who is trying to just be happy but needs more time to get there.

It's making your heart ache.

You've dreamt of this, stupidly enough. Oscar on the top step of the podium, that bunny-tooth grin of his spreading and spreading. Champagne and confetti. You're there, of course you're there. Lando is too. So it's painful to have that dream actualised and to realise it's not perfect— because, well, nothing ever is.

And it's fucking unfortunate.

But it's them. So it's fine.

You're baffled by that sometimes. You still hold grudges against old teammates. There are things you'll never forgive them for, wounds that will never heal. But you come back from your frustratingly long debrief and find them doubled over outside their driver's room, giggling their heads off at something. It's not perfect, there's still something between them, something in the air.

But they're trying.

And Oscar is smiling wider than you've seen in a long while.

So for Oscar's sake you push it aside—

It's always a little different away from prying eyes, away from rolling cameras, in front of which you feel pressure to act like Oscar and Lando are first and foremost your rivals. When they're gone they can just be your friends. Your boys.

Naturally, you're thudding into Oscar before he really notices you're there. Too busy throwing his head back at something Lando had said. He's still in champagne wet fireproofs as you reach your arms around his shoulders, but so are you. He smells vaguely like a wet dog and lets out a soft oft noise as you charge into him.

"Hey, race winner," you say as he threads his arms around your waist.

You put your forehead on his collarbone, close your eyes as a laugh flutters out of him. You hear it rumble in his chest as he rocks the two of you gently from side to side. It's giggly, light and joyful like the one he does when he's tipsy. But he's not tipsy, just happy you think.

"Race winner," he mumbles, low, quiet, to himself more than anything, "Yeah."

"Yeah," you whisper back.

You're like that maybe for too long. Longer than people who are just friends should be. You can hear Lando moving around behind you, asphalt grinding under his feet. His gaze prickling the back of your neck. Eventually, you pull away. You slide your hands to grip Oscar's shoulders, fingertips pressing into warm skin, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Accidentally, your lips land too close to the corner of his mouth, brushing against stubble and sweat. You hear something soft escape his lips, barely audible as his brown eyes bore into yours. Pupils blown large, gaze drifting momentarily down to your lips.

"Good job today, Osc," you say, trying not to let your breath hitch.

You pull away a little before he does something in the heat of the moment— and right in front of Lando, of all people. He's high on adrenaline, that's all. That's all.

"Thank you," he smiles, all teeth.

You feel hot all the way down your neck, into your chest. Hm, premature menopause, you think, rather than the obvious— which is that it makes you mega nervous to be that close to Oscar Piastri.

Lando clears his throat.

In a jerky, surprised movement you step away from Oscar, while Oscar fumbles awkwardly for his phone in his pocket. He holds it up, says something stumbling about calling his family and then takes only maybe five steps away before you or Lando can say a thing.

You laugh, just a little.

Then do a pleased little spin to face Lando.

Who seems better, lighter. At least in comparison to how he was immediately post-race. Which you’re glad to see. Especially after catching bits of his team radio from a brief conversation with George. You’re not particularly happy about it, but it’s not really your place to be upset.

“Hey,” you smile warmly.

He smiles back, tighter than you’d hoped.

You move a bit closer into his personal space, watching him carefully. It’s okay you think. He’s more subdued than usual, but you can’t see the seething thing that was under his skin earlier. That would be fine of course, he’s entitled to that, but his sake you’re glad it’s gone.

“You okay?”, you ask.

Lando nods, eyes falling closed momentarily as he hums contemplatively, “‘M okay. Happy for him.”

You nod, stepping closer to pull him into a one armed hug that’s not quite as energetic as the one you’d given Oscar before.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing the side of your face into his cheek, “Upset too?”

He hums again, sighs, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Yeah,” because you get it,

Maybe not in these exact circumstances. But you know what it’s like. To chase a win with everything you have, to fall short after it’s been in your grasp. You understand that. So does Oscar—

Speaking of.

Oscar’s back, footsteps crunching asphalt behind you.

“They’re asleep,” he explains, “I’ll talk to them later.”

You half let Lando go, moving to accommodate the race winner into your little circle. They’re a bit weird about it, shuffling into place awkwardly, you’re not surprised after a day like today, but you persevere— wrapping arms around both of them and pulling them simultaneously down into a haphazard hug that you’re in the middle of.

Lando’s face is in your neck somehow, mumbling something about you being overbearing while his hand clutches at your waist to keep himself upright. Oscar’s arm is tight around your shoulders and your face is squished up against his chest. You squeeze tightly— let them go when it’s been a minute too long—

You can feel yourself almost getting caught up in the tangle of limbs. The warmth of your friends. The emotion of it. You think there’s something stuck in your eye again, something wet in your tear ducts.

You sniff, try to ignore it, hope they don’t see.

Then, stupid observant Oscar, “Are you crying?”

You let out an offended noise and shake your head to deny it, but instead something that’s almost a sob, but not quite, slips out—

“No,” you declare, but it’s unconvincing—

and then you’re back in the hug. All sweat and sticky champagne residue, Lando’s too-strong cologne and Oscar who smells like burnt rubber. And it’s not perfect, because nothing ever is, but it’s enough for you.

this was really cathartic for me to be honest. just needed my little driver!reader to hug landoscar after that race. needed to get some big feelings out and then needed a sweet little fluff section to make me feel better.

ALSO DISCLAIMER: this was a work of FICTION it does not reflect the entirety of what i feel about the events of the hungary gp. i am simply playing with dolls! thank you and goodbye!

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x driver!reader #lando norris & oscar piastri #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oneshots:op81 #oneshots:481 #driver!reader

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1920sladydectective · 2 months ago

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Christmas Tree Smut - NSFW

I wrote this because my wife bought me all of the Rocklove jewellery Ambessa and Mel collection as a surprise for finishing my uni assignments and then we put up the Christmas tree. So thank her. :D

Not proof read, some pet names and choking but it’s a short drabble so not much.

Ambessa was tall. You were fully aware of this, it had its multitude of uses and attractions. This, though, you had yet to see this year.

There she stood, bundled in furs with a stern eye, surveying the tree.

“I think it’s fine,” You muttered to her left, tipsy smirk on your face.

“Since when has fine been acceptable, Dear? Do you love it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say love,”

“Then it is wrong,” She marched off down the sea of green, analysing as though picking new recruits.

You had been looking for two hours, and she had bought you five glasses of spiked mulled wine. Still she would not pick one. You just wanted to decorate a tree, have too much stollen and then kiss underneath the mistletoe. Instead, she was striking the fear of God into the farm attendant as she looked for her “Perfect” Tree.

From the uncharacteristically loud yell of joy, you hoped she’d found it. You were determined to love it even if it was half dead, just so you could leave. It was, in all fairness to Ambessa, astounding. Ten foot tall, plush and full, it loomed just as she’d wished.

“Will it fit?”

She looked at you like you were an idiot. Of course. Her castle ceilings were insanely high, that’s why you’d come to this farm in the first place.

The farmhand chopped it down, with constant commentary and criticism from Ambessa until you whacked her with your handbag and growled. Poor boy must have been a teenager, and Ambessa was calling him a spineless fool.

Then, in a flash, the magic happened. She picked it up, as though it wasn’t over three feet taller than her, and began to wander off to the soldiers waiting to transport it. You tensed, blindly handing the boy far too much money for the tree as you trailed behind her glamorous, toned form.

Her eyes sparkled as she placed it down, a wry grin on her face, “Something intriguing darling?”

“Don’t tease,” You sighed, gazing happily at her.

The journey back was simple, your wine addled mind floaty and dozing against her shoulder until she kissed you tenderly to wake you.

Once the great, hulking thing was situated, Ambessa began putting the lights on. You were not allowed on the wooden ladder, as if a glass bauble prone to dropping. That was fine with you, you’d just stare at her arse the whole time.

Finally, blissfully, you could decorate the fucking thing. Boxes and boxes of glass ornaments from your marriage and travels were brought into the room by attendants, a large wooden table used to spread them out as you contemplated how you wished to decorate this year.

Humming carols to yourself, you danced around Ambessa placing baubles and standing back to survey. She was only to place them where you said further up, your tone demanding and clear. It made her smirk, your perfectionism. Each year she grew to love it more.

Swiftly, she hugged you from behind and began to nibble your neck as you placed a pair of robins on a lower branch.

“Y-“ A huff, “You’re distracting me,”

“You’re distracting me, Little one,” She purred, nuzzling against your nape, “So commanding, so artistic, how am I supposed to resist such seduction?”

You melted slightly against her, taking in the warm glow of the lights as you tilted your head, offering more of your neck.

Ambessa left large, sharp marks all down your throat and collarbone, relishing in branding you as she wrapped her arm around you and began to tease your nipple.

Your knees buckled, ripping an amused moan from your lips, “You do this every year, you never let me finish the fucking thing,”

She pinches your nipple through your dress, hard enough it hurts, “But I let you finish don’t I? And isn’t that so kind of me? Aren’t you so thankful?”

“Yes,” You slur slightly, going limp in her hold as she tugs whimpers and sighs from you. This was how she liked it, the tree would be half done and she would fuck your under it’s great branches and then allow you to finish it naked with your legs trembling.

This year it seemed she had grown especially impatient, and started the process only a third of the way through. You were powerless to resist though, namely because you didn’t want to.

She lay you on the floor, fluffy blankets and pillows preemptively placed, as her wicked tongue trailed down your body, hands preoccupied with abusing your tits until your eyes rolled. Once she finally touched your molten core, you were already in the blind throes of pleasure, her name echoing for all to hear. She allowed you your wantonness in these moments, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

The sparkling of the tree made your vision blur, pleasure merging with whimsy as you smiled dumbly up through the branches.

“Pretty girl,” Ambessa groaned against you, “Perfect slut,”

She stripped herself of all clothes, spreading your legs wider as she positioned herself between them, brushing her cunt against yours. Rutting against you, she wiped your mind of anything other than your clits rubbing against each other, tongue hanging out as you spluttered and leaked.

Panting, her eyes hazy, she squeezed your neck lightly as you came, squirting all over yourself at the overstimulation. Her orgasm was loud and shameless, wrecking you on her search for pleasure as she lent down and bit your nipple between her teeth.

“I love Christmas,” You giggled nonsensically, smiling at the mistletoe bauble directly above your head.

“As do I, my darling,” She huffed, curling you both into a blanket as you basked in each other.

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #reader insert #arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa smut #christmas smut

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lovelicht · 1 month ago

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PAC: Wishes from your past self

Hello to everyone! I hope December treats you well, and if not, that the holidays shall bring you the light you need! ✨

My name is Licht and this is my second PAC on this account, and I hope it shall prove helpful. In a way or another it’s meant to become a gift from our past for the future, depending on what we choose to hear in the present. I am in no way a professional, and I’m yet to acquire the experience needed, so make sure to proceed mindfully. Have fun and make sure to share your thoughts if you feel like it! 💕

Disclaimer: As I am not a professional reader, all of the posts are to be taken with a grain of salt. This is a general reading, so some things might not resonate. Regardless of the situation, please remember that tarot portrays only one of the multiple scenarios of your life and you choose whether to follow it or not.

(1->2, 3->4)

Group 1

Cards: The Star, Seven of Wands, Five of Coins Rx, Ace of Coins (bottom of the deck: Page of Coins)

Who is your past self?

A dreamer was the first thing that came to my mind - the Star is a symbol of hope, resolve in the darkness of our lives, as well as life’s brightest days. In your past you might have struggled financially or might have had a defective relationship with your family, friends, which had left you wishing for more, to receive what you unfairly didn’t get just because life dealt you an unfair hand. The young girl looks at the sky praying that things will get better, and the one who wishes shall be rewarded: the toys, the friends, the love you felt you lacked played in the back of your mind, in your daydreams, till they could one day become the steps you build your better future on

Your current situation:

The Seven of Wands shows that you’re currently working hard on achieving what you believe in, to ensure your future, possibly even driven by the feeling of lacking that got imprinted into your memory as a result of your life growing up. Though we didn’t quite get to the wishes part, I feel like you need to be reminded to listen to your body and take occasional breaks, as you might be prone to overworking yourself to a nearly unhealthy extent. Your body needs to be rested in order to offer you the energy and strength you need, otherwise you won’t be fighting but windmills

What do they wish you these holidays?

Generally I felt a truly pleasant energy coming through, as if your past self is truly happy you are achieving so much for both of you. Nonetheless, they wish you to feel less lonely and powerless these holidays. Release the fears of your past and embrace acceptance, the future you are creating for yourself one step after another. They are clearly hinting you should get out of your walls slowly but surely and embrace the warmth of relationships that could come if you are to accept them into your life

How can you make it come true?

Nourish your dreams and even the wildest wish shall come true. Page of Coins signifies a new beginning and so does te Ace of Coins. Your work is seen and it will be rewarded, you just need to continue for it to flourish. If by any chance you had any new business idea, no matter how grand or insignificant, the cards are confirming it could aid you into bringing financial abundance into your life. Don’t give up! Your manifestation, whether mental or physical will come into being - nothing lasting is built in a day

Group 2

Cards: Four of Cups Rx, Strength Rx, Two of Swords, Queen of Swords (bottom of the deck: Five of Swords)

Who is your past self?

At first when the card felt I thought your past self had a somewhat privileged upbringing, diving more into it however, I believe this person was more of a gifted individual than a spoiled one, perhaps too gifted for their own preference - “ignorance is bliss”. The more you see and understand the easier it becomes a curse, does it not? You seem to have been quite the achiever, someone who managed quite a lot at their young age, be it actual contests or a general showcase of intellect and talent, yet you didn’t seem to derive too much joy from it as to you it might have been something normal “just the usual” (INTX vibes) even though to others it could be unthinkable

Your current situation

Combined with the previous card, I’m inclined to believe you identify yourself as a “burnt out gifted child” with a well-defined impostor syndrome. You overthink a lot, and it is just as much your downfall. The more you go down the rabbit hole, the less you believe in yourself and the potential you hold within. You are your own jailer and saviour, you merely ought to choose which side to pick depending on what you prefer: the familiarity of wailing in your own darkness or opening your eyes to what you can do with the gifts presented to you on a silver plate - nobody else will do this for you, trust me, some problems can be only solved by ourselves, though it doesn’t mean we cannot ask for guidance in the process

What do they wish you?

Your past self wants you to choose what to do next. The Two of Swords is blind thus asks for introspection before walking any of the paths presented. Truth is, there’s always fear in the unknown, but is the destruction that the known brings worth not taking a leap of faith? You can continue denying the lifestyle you have, continue living with the fear of failing in the real life, but in the end what use of a life you cannot truly say you live?

How can you make it come true?

Find the balance between being rational and destructive - quite frequently even dearest mind can become our greatest enemy, your duty is to figure out the line at which freedom and self-imprisonment separate. You are undoubtedly a bright individual, all you need is to discern fairly between what serves you and what does not - cutting off bad habits, influences is hard, but in the end some threads are meant to be severed so you can see the actual one you shall follow to the end of the labyrinth

Group 3

Cards: Four of Swords Rx, Knight of Coins, Five of Swords, The Wheel of Fortune Rx, Seven of Cups Rx (bottom of the deck: Four of Wands)

Who is your past self?

Your past self most likely had to undergo serious transformations on an innate level, in a reality where they felt chained by circumstance. The card depicts being restrained for worldly good, as such, the painful events you once had to navigate served as a basis for becoming the one you needed the most and perhaps the one universe needed you to become the most. Suffering, while constraining on a mental level, drove you further to work on your actual soul and possibly even material goals, regardless of how hard it might have seemed. Your past self knew they had to get out, somewhere else mapped in their mind, and they did, or at least they came so much closer to it than they have ever been before

Your current situation

It seems that life has yet again brought you another unpleasant lesson. Five of Swords describes the energy of betrayal, disappointment and apparent defeat, though the victim of one battle doesn’t necessarily remain the one to surrender in the war. You have most likely been treated unfairly, despite everything you have done to this moment, and it tears your heart once more, possibly reopening wounds which you have been mending for the past few years I have mentioned in the previous paragraph

What do they wish you?

They want you to believe in the Universe and it’s infinitely variable essence - the wheel is always spinning and those who have once taken from you against your will shall be given the same treatment, but this time on divine terms. All the good karma shall be rewarded, all you need is to trust in it. These battles will be over eventually and you shall find respite and happiness, together with those you hold close, the allies you met along the way

How can you make it come true?

Focus on what you feel calls to you the most and do not share you energy and time left and right for what does not serve you. You are undoubtedly strong, but you need to also be wise about where is your strength needed - we are not meant to be endless wells, for the beauty of the energy we hold is what we choose to do with it. Your past self doesn’t want you to think about all the buts and ifs and look ahead instead and face the reality, escaping from the dreamscape of possibilities, possibly shaped inclusively by your own fears or lack of satisfaction with the hand you’ve been dealt

Group 4

Cards: The Moon Rx, Three of Cups, Two of Wands Rx, Knight of Coins (bottom of the deck: Ace of Cups)

Who is your past self?

The reversed Moon is a symbol of looking behind the magical veil of illusion, meaning to break the rose coloured sunglasses and realise that delusion, while sweet, remains exactly that - nothing but an empty hope clashing with a reality we don’t always dare to accept. Most likely, your past self had managed to learn that earlier than most, sensing things that most of your peers couldn’t even care to understand, and that, while a blessing made you also stand out a lot, to those who could see it - “you’re so mature for your age” is possibly something you have once heard being said in your address quite a lot and not for no reason.

Your current situation

You seem to have a clear reason to celebrate given the Three of Cups, but they seemed to want to stay covered, thus it’s probable you cannot fully accept your success for some reason. With the bottom of the deck being the Ace of Cups, I am inclined to believe it could be related to a new emotional beginning in your life, perhaps even a romantic relationship that you are yet to fully process and accept. I feel as if you harbour a certain fear related to how good these events actually are and whether they will be there with you for longer. Life taught you that everything is ephemeral, even more the happy moments, and that a once happy moment can become the nightmare of another night, but you are yet to convince yourself that it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let yourself enjoy it while you can.

What do they wish you?

Do not let fears overcome you and live the moment, embrace the future and accept the past, allowing yourself to be open to new horizons waiting for you. They want you to be more decisive about the opportunities you are presented, without falling into doubt - you have everything you need to navigate forward, no need to fear the unknown, because frequently it is in the unknown we discover true meanings

How can you make it come true?

Working and trusting the process is the key - being a little stubborn about what you dream of is by no means childish, nor egoistical, it is a demonstration of how much you matter to yourself. While you might be right that every banquet has an end, it doesn’t always mean the end will be bad, or that the end won’t bring a private party instead - you are allowed to want good things to happen without having to always be “objective” “realistic” about it, and who knows, maybe the banquet shall continue

Credits for the dividers to @saradika-graphics 💕

None of the pictures are mine. All of the pictures are from Pinterest

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #pac #tarot reading #pick a card reading #tarot readings #tarot community #pac reading #tarotblr

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modmad · 10 months ago

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Hey Mod, I don't know what's going on that hurt you, I feel like I missed something that's happened, but I can tell from what I did see that it didn't just hurt you, but scared you and made you feel a Lot of doubt. I've also seen a lot of messages pouring in with support, and I want to share mine.

I have hypermobile type EDS, fibromyalgia, and a whole bucket's worth of faulty wiring in my brain. And I've always had stories to tell but I never felt I was good enough to share them. If it's because I can't focus enough to get through nanowrimo, or because I can't manage the focus and time towards drawing as a hobby, or the fact that an excessive amount of either for me leads to my hands wanting to shut down. But you? You *inspire* me. Your stories, all the ones I've seen, read, experienced in some way or another, they're so good. And you're open and honest with your fans about your own health, and of course, we support you and always would rather you rest and feel as best you can, instead of pushing out something and working yourself too hard. But all of this is to say that. I think I would have given up on my own stories if I hadn't found you and yours.

I hope whatever is going on sorts itself out, I hope you're able to keep telling your stories. At your own pace, in your own way. I think you deserve to be happy. If there's anything we (your fans, especially those of us too awkward to come off anon, whoops,) can do, to help in some way? Even if it's silly videos or cute cat pictures or whatever it is that could just help you smile. We're here. We love you.

woof. I woke up to so many messages I can't even read them all in one go I'm getting too emotional- I do feel I owe an explanation so I'll explain what happened under the cut but all you guys need to know is I'm okay, I got through it, I love you, and you're so important to me and I'm so grateful for all the messages that have asked me to stay.

tw for suicidal thoughts and all that

yeah so I have the bad morning of all mornings: was introduced to the fact there's this one character (Mr Puzzles) on a very popular youtube that. resembles RGB. incredibly strongly. like. I don't want to link to it just look if you want to. Anyway at the time I thought it had just dropped (seems to have been around for 6 months actually), and having commented on it I immediately got an inbox full of hate mail.

My website, meanwhile, had locked both me and my web designer out of it, and- already in a bad state of mind- I went into full on panic/paranoid spiral of 'they have hacked it, and they are going to delete any proof that I was here before them.' This of course wasn't true, and we have since recalimed control of the site (don't know what happened there but hey. it's fine???? haha. ha.)

On top of this my father has terminal cancer of the pancreas, which is horrible for everyone already but it means that- at some point this year- I am going to be the only person with an active income in my house. I am disabled, do not make a lot of money, and the cost of living is skyrocketing. Combine that with months of Despair at the world right now, with the multiple wars, genocide, corruption and AI and the loss of control any of us have over our IP or lives and I just decided it was time to end it all.

I somehow remembered this was a bad idea to act on immediately (hard during a period of entirely irrational thought) and instead went for a very long walk, crossed the bridge I could have jumped off and during that I came out of the worst of it. I then came back home to so much love online I felt deeply ashamed for ever contemplating it, and I cried a lot. My nose is still puffy and now my feet hurt! lmao

Anyway. Yeah. There's your context. I am not going to stop hoping, making, or living. I am prone to moments of weakness and this was one of the worst of them and I am still here, thanks in a large part to all of you. I might need you in the future to defend me against this, or people who take our ideas, but I hope you know that I will do the same for you. We need each other, and to be there for you I need to be here at all.

also fuck Mr Puzzles

#context for mod's little (massive) mental breakdown yesterday #you don't need to read it but I felt folks are due an explanation #tw suicide #ask to tag #mental health is wow!!!! a thing

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zkvry · 1 year ago

Text

My Lady | Possesive!Aemond Targaryen x Targ!Fem!Reader

Summary : You provoke Aemond, who is prone to jealousy

Warnings : red flag behaviour, some violence towards the end, jealous and posessive Aemond. Slightly dark towards the end.

Additional Information :

> standalone from HOTD storyline (there are no spoilers) > written in second person perspective > 1232 words | 9 minutes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond sipped on wine mindlessly as he watches you interact with Lords of noble houses. It was clear that they were trying to woo you, in hopes to have your hand in marriage.

His only seeing eye narrows with distaste, his lips pursed.

From afar, you mindlessly nod at whatever the man was saying, sipping on your wine to keep yourself busy.

Aemond had seen a few men approach you. It was obvious that they had taken to your beauty. His right hand had clenched around his wine cup, and his smile was gone as he watched the scenario play out. His eye remained fixed upon you, unblinking.

His eye was filled with an angry glare, his lips had pressed into a hard line, he was jealous, and did little to hide it.

you were finally able to run off from the man that had occupied your attention longer than you had hoped. Walking with haste, you approach the Royal Table, isolated from the rest and telling of your royal status.

You plop yourself down next to Aemond, sighing in relief.

Aemond sees your approaching figure, and softens his gaze, his eye hiding the fury he was feeling only moments ago. His mouth pulls up into a faint, pleasant smile.

"Did anyone bother you, my lady?" His voice quiet and monotonous, yet there was a hint of concern in his voice.

"I continuously, have been steering away from marriage proposals. I do not know how much longer I can entertain this," You chuckle humorlessly, hiding your face in hands with exasperation.

Aemond chuckles lightly at your reaction, a tone of amusement evident in his voice. "So it seems, my lady is popular?"

You took it upon yourself be forward, a small smirk on your lips. "Well, yes. your lady is popular".

Your words made him smile softly, a hint of his dimples showing. Unsure of how to respond, a slight blush appears on his face. His eye remains fixed upon your own, for there was a sense of appreciation, admiration, and respect that very few people can evoke.

"Do I have any competition?" He asks softly, his voice merely a whisper as he entertains your teasing.

"Yes. Yes, you do," you lean closer to him, subtly pointing at a few noble lords in the crowd.

"By that table, we have Cregan Stark. He is noble and a gentleman. I almost fell for him, truth be told-" You chuckle, hearing Aemond breathed in sharply, sounding constrained.

"-And over there, is Tyland Lannister. His house is one of the richest in all Seven Kingdoms, he said he would buy me a castle and build the largest dragonpit the world has ever seen. But he is arrogant," You continue your teasing, wondering how far you could push him.

Aemond turned his head, following the direction of your finger. His lip frowned for a moment, before he looked at you again, unimpressed.

"The Northmen and the Westmen are both powerful and wealthy. But I can buy you a castle and build you a dragonpit, too."

He chuckles - "And I am not arrogant."

Aemond gives you a sly smile, his pride evident.

Your eyes study him. "No, you are not arrogant.. You are cunning, loving, and very handsome," You trail off, a certain twinkle in your eye.

"-but stubborn!" You point an accusing finger at him, a playful smile on your lips.

Aemond chuckles at your accusation. His eye brightened with glee while his grin grew a tiny bit wider. "You know me well, my love."

"Cunning, loving, handsome, stubborn.. and proud." He repeats it back to you. "Are my qualities what attracted you to me?" He asks you with a teasing tone in his voice, his eye twinkling with mischief.

"You wish! you would be the luckiest man alive if you had me as your wife" You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

Aemond chuckles, while his cheeks took upon a slightly redder hue. He takes his finger and rests it under your chin, pulling it nearer to his face as he leans closer to you.

"I am only the most blessed man because I have you," He spoke in High Valyrian, his words easily putting butterflies in your stomach. Your heart drums in your chest at your closeness.

You narrow your eyes, not once breaking away from his hypnotic gaze. A sly smiles creeps onto your face. "What makes you think you have me already, hm?"

Aemond's top lip twitches slightly, curving into a smirk as he sees your sly smile and narrowed eyes.

"The way you look at me, the way you talk to me, the way you behave around me," He speaks without missing a beat, his eye still trained on yours. His gaze falls to your lips, returning back to your meet your eyes - his pupils dilated.

Aemond paused for a second, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, his voice sultry and deep. "You love me, just admit it."

Your smile only grows wider as he lists down the things about you. You try horribly to keep your emotions in check as the your heart beats loudly in your chest, feeling tingly in your stomach. Biting your lip, you lean into his ear.

"I'm sorry, but I have marriage proposals to accept" You pull away, the faintest of red on your cheeks. Still, you did not want to back down. Your words were a harmless effort to rile him up, and rile him up you did.

Aemond's heart started to beat heavier and quicker, his eye shimmered with jealousy, narrowing to fix his gaze on you. His lips curved in a sneer, his gaze predatory. Aemond pulled you towards him with force, holding you by your wrists as he brought his face threateningly close.

In your shared mother tongue, he softly spoke, his voice firm and threatening. "Would you accept someone else's proposal?"

You give him an impish smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "What would you do if I did?"

Aemond's breathes become staggered as he holds on with restraint. His face appeared filled with wrath, his voice lowered with an iron determination. His hands tightens around your wrist, pulling you to his hard chest.

He leaned forward, his other hand clamped around the back of your neck. His voice firm and serious - "I will kill anyone who dares to marry you, for you are mine, my love. Only I hold your heart."

Your hand is turning white from the deadly grip he has on your wrists. Your faces merely inches from each other as he holds your neck firmly. You feel his hot breath on your face, seeing this pupils blown with desire and rage. You smirk devilishly, you had him right where you wanted him.

"Would you claim me as yours?" You whisper lowly, your voice enchanting. Your eyes were half-closed with desire.

Aemond's eye gleamed again, angry and full of wrath.

His voice was filled with dominance and authority, "Yes." He replied confidently, as he stared directly into your eyes. "You are mine, my love. I will claim you, mark you…" He whispered, his eye roaming your figure with hunger.

His lip sneered with ferocious determination, as he uttered - "By the Gods.. you will have our children, and I will make you forever loyal and bound to me, and to our house."

#hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #posessive!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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xoxotria · 10 months ago

Text

inferno | y. jh

pairing: targaryen!jeonghan x targaryen!reader

themes: house of dragon!au, incest, arranged marriage, typical house of dragon themes

warnings: incest, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex, switch reader, mentions of reader having breasts and a vagina

summary: unable to make his two troublesome children settle down the king takes matters into his own hands and decides to wed them.

“you and i are made of fire. we have always been meant to burn together.”

another daughter of the lord baratheon storms out of the prince’s chambers a scowl on her face as she passes by the targaryen princess. curious she walks towards her brother’s room to see what all that was about.

“chased off another one dear brother?” she teases as she peaks into her older brother’s chambers.

jeonghan sits at the edge of his bed a cup of wine in hand as he rolls his eyes at her.

“it’s not my fault she’s too tame for my taste.” he smirks.

jeonghan targaryen, the second heir to the throne after their other brother seungcheol, was a menace always getting into trouble with his dragon. he was an untamable soul—one that even the king, his father, cannot control.

“emā se ānogar hen zaldrīzes flowing rȳ ao. they’re sepār zūgagon naejot zālagon.” you have the blood of the dragon flowing through you. they’re just scared to burn. she smiles taking a seat on the set of chairs in the middle of his chambers.

“hae gaomagon ao jorrāelagon mandia, skore dīnagon īlva isse keskydoso situation.” as do you dearest sister, which puts us in the same situation.

he was right, she wasn’t very different from him. despite the god-like appearances they carry, she was a targaryen. according to her grandfather king jaehaerys ii, every time a targaryen is born the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. as much as targaryens are prone to greatness, they are also prone to madness.

the targaryen princess was vastly known to be like her ancestor queen visenya targaryen. a passionate, stern and unforgiving woman who feared nothing and no one but she was also loving to her two brothers. she trusted no one other than them—she was their little flame. she was immensely stubborn and headstrong, challenging her bethroned to keep up with her which always ends up with them break off their engagement unable to diminish her inferno.

she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of what she wanted—what she deserved.

“father will have our heads for breaking off another engagement he worked so hard to arrange for us.” she watches as jeonghan stands up to refill his cup downing it as he shrugs.

“his anger has always been temporary, ñuha perzys. it will only be a matter of time before he finds us another engagement to break.” he winks. my flame, the term of endearment he gave her as soon as she was born into this world.

“let us hope that is the case, there are only a few noble houses to choose from left—for me anyways, baratheon, tully, stark and hightower to name the few. are we as the rumors say we are?” she whispers softly as she peers up at him.

he puts his cup down as he encircles his arms around her, engulfing her into a tight hug. he knew of her worries—he’s heard the whispers in the king’s landing regarding both of their tendencies to be unreasonable and extremely picky when it comes to their betrothed or the rumors about them being together alone in each others chambers in the middle of the night.

“we know fully well who we are, who cares what they say? you and i ride the biggest dragons to ever live, we do not need the approval or the validation ñuha perzys.”

“i suppose your right.”

“please, ñuha perzys. i am always right.” he boasts as she shoves him off of her with a smile on her face.

to many of the people in the palace, the bond they shared seemed to dance the lines between siblings and something more. with personalities that matched each other’s, the similarities in their ways of thinking, and the way they presented themselves to the court and to the people of the kingdom. they mirrored each other so well.

jeonghan would hear the rumors as he loitered the streets of the city on days sleep would not find him, he thought about it. targaryen’s often marry siblings, it was a normal occurence in their family. their ancestor king aegon i even took both of his sisters to marry. it plagued his thoughts whenever he found himself staring across the hall at the sight of his little flame listening to her betrothed talk endlessly about something that did not intrigue her one bit as she toyed with the necklace he gifted her on her nineteenth name day.

unknowingly to the male, the female targaryen also harbored similar thoughts about her brother as she watched him and his betrothed acquaint themselves with each other in the gardens she often read. she would feel a pinch of jealousy as his betrothed made advances on him causing her to storm off to the dragonpit to go ride on vermithor.

“except when it comes to the women you choose.” she laughs as his face morphs to a shocked one.

“you did not! i don’t even pick them!”

“yes, i did! you always had a choice on the matter brother.”

lunging at her, jeonghan pushes her unto his bed as he tickled her sides causing her to erupt in laughter.

“take it back, ñuha perzys.” he smirked as he pinned both her arms above her head as he continued to tickle her sides.

“never.” she whispered realising how close their faces were to each other.

“i’ll give you one last chance. take it back.”

lilac colored eyes stared into light blue eyes, faces centimeters apart as the tension between them rises. his eyes glancing down to her lips briefly as he watched her bite her bottom lip.

kiss me. her eyes begged, breath hitching as he leaned down closer their noses touching.

“say it.” he whispered. say you want me to kiss you ñuha perzys and i will.

they stared at each other, hearts pounding against their chests, their bodies flushed against one another. they knew they had no right to touch each other, crave them like air—but they did. somehow they knew that the fire that burned in them was only meant to burn together.

“i—”

“jeonghan! father is summoning you.” seungcheol’s voice booms behind the wooden doors as he slams his fists against it.

snapping out of their thoughts jeonghan pulled away and offered his hand to help her up from the bed as she muttered a small ‘thank you’. she had made her way back to the seat she was in just in time before the doors slammed open with her other brother walking in.

“i never said you could enter, brother.” jeonghan muttered as seungcheol sat down on the other seat across from the princess.

“ñuha perzys, i didn’t know you were in here.” seungcheol greeted as she smiled at him.

“i had the honor of seeing another lady storm out of his chambers.” she replied as seungcheol laughs looking over at his younger brother.

“again? for fucks sake, jeonghan! what’s wrong with her now?”

she isn’t her. he thought bitterly as his eyes met hers quickly before looking back at seungcheol and shrugging at their brother.

“too ‘tame’ is what he told me.” she pipes up as seungcheol’s brow raises at him.

“at this point, i do not even know who father would set you up with anymore.” he snatched the cup of wine from the table before turning to the princess. “you as well.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“please, ñuha perzys. i know everything that goes on in the keep. i heard about the lord crying and storming off after you took him out on a ride with vermithor.”

she once took the young lord on a afternoon ride with vermithor not knowing how the boy was terrified of both heights and the strong personality she had. the lord was a pussy anyways hurling at the stories the princess told about various poisons and tricks to kill someone without the evidence pointing back at you. it didn’t shock her he’d already fled back home with his tail between his legs.

“not my fault the boy hasn’t grown a dick yet.” she shrugged earning a chuckle from jeonghan.

“well father is not going to be please with both of you either way so i suggest running along and heading to meet with him and at the small council meeting room immediately.” seungcheol stands as he makes his way out jeonghan’s chambers.

the two shared a look before heading out as well, a look they shared a lot recently, a look that meant they were fucked.

ii.

“i am at my wits end with the both of you! you scared off the last lord in close vicinity interested in you and you—” the king points slams his hand on the table as the princess and prince look on bored as ever. “—you have yet to marry a lady i set up for you! time is running out for both of you troublesome children of mine.”

“father i will not be tied down to a boy who can not handle a woman such as myself. i know what i want and what i deserve. jeonghan feels the same way. do not expect me to marry a boy who only wants me for my cunt and dragon.” she reasons her voice stern as jeonghan nods in agreement beside her.

the king was livid. he could not understand why his children was being this difficult with finding spouses! he did not know what to do with them anymore. he hadn’t cause his father this type of problems when it came to his marriage.

“i may be your father but i am also your king! my word is absolutely final. what am i to do with you?” he glares at his children, a headache starting.

does he try one more time with the lords of houses valaryeon or stark? or the ladies of house lannister or strong? the king was stuck on what to do until an idea popped up inside his head.

“seeing as your engagements to other houses have yet to be successful you have left me no choice but to wed you both to each other seeing as only the both of you tolerate and understand one another. i should have done this from the start and saved myself time.”

the two royals glanced at each other as they silently cheered in their heads. this was it. their chance to finally be themselves unapologetically without thinking about how their betrothed would act or what the people would say but doubts of how she would react still plagued jeonghan’s thoughts.

would she like that? he thought as he glanced over at the princess beside him.

“father…” he glanced over at the king as the princess stayed silent beside him. “i will only do so if she accepts to as well.”

she stared at the marble table in front of her as she takes jeonghan’s words in. he was giving her a choice in their marriage. was he not interested in the idea at all? was he hesitating to marry her because he loved someone else? she had to play her cards right, if she declined she would probably shipped off to dragonstone and wait to be married to some lord she’d have no choice but to marry for political reasons or does she take the chance with the one person who she truly feels something for? she briefly glances at her brother who sat quietly staring at her before glancing over to her father.

“i’ll do it. i’ll marry jeonghan father.”

“then it is settled! you will marry in two moons time.” the king announces clapping his hands as he stands to congratulate his children. “i can die happy knowing my children are settled well into this world. it is the only thing a father wants for his children.”

“thank you father.” she replied a small smile on her lips as jeonghan intertwines their hands together.

“i will fulfill my duty towards you and the crown, father. you have my word.” he declares as he plants a kiss on the back of her hand.

duty. she was only his duty. she thought bitterly as she exchanged a tight-lipped smile with him, her father cheering and talking with the hand gleefully in the background.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

the princess grew distant with jeonghan, something everyone in the palace took notice of. preparations for the royal wedding were well underway as they only had a limited amount of time and everything needed to be perfect.

“you look absolutely stunning ñuha perzys.” seungcheol complimented as she stood on a pedestal being fitted into her wedding gown.

“do you not think it is too much?” she asked gesturing to the silks that clung to her body.

“nonsense, ñuha perzys. it’s perfect.” he cooed at his baby sister. “is something wrong?” he asked he noticed the change in her posture.

“nothing is wrong.”

“something is bothering you. everyone leave us.” he commanded as the seamstress and the ladies exited the room.

“tell me what is wrong and i will do something about it.” he demanded softly as he took her hands in his.

“you and i both know i can do far worse than you brother.” she chuckled.

“do not change the subject ñuha perzys. i’ve noticed the distance of you and jeonghan as of late and i’m not the only one. what’s on your mind?”

seungcheol had noticed the subtle changes between the two. he did not want to pry into the changes in the ‘relationship’ his siblings had but as their older brother it felt like he needed to especially when the pair had been ignoring each other for the past few days after the announcement of their engagement. he noticed how jeonghan was distracted during lessons and small council meetings, spacing out more than usual. he planned on cornering him but it was harder to see him alone with all the planning he had been doing for the wedding so when he found out about his sister’s dress fitting he took the chance to talk to her and get to the bottom of things.

“i know marriage is more often than not only for political reasons and that targaryen marriages are often something the crown does to strengthen claims to the throne and blood purity. that’s all it us right? a duty—to the people, to the king, to the crown. i get that marriage is mostly a duty! a stupid fucking duty.” she chuckled darkly. “i don’t want to be someone’s duty, seungcheol. i deserve more than that. i’m a targaryen princess. i ride vermithor, one of the biggest dragons from old valaria. i am more than just a fucking duty! so why am i just a duty to the crown for him when he’s so much more to me? am i not worthy to be wed just because he loves me?”

jeonghan’s words had affected her more than she let herself too. she hated knowing she was just a duty to him—a fucking duty. she was going to be his wife for the rest of his life and he viewed her as a duty? she was livid. after the meeting with their father she had made her way to the dragon pit and took vermithor out on a ride returning in early hours of the day before the sun came out completely avoiding the blonde prince who waited for her to return but eventually fell asleep doing so.

she had avoided being in the same room as jeonghan since that day which confused him. had he done something to upset her? did she not want to get married to him? he had been hurt when he knocked on her chambers to spend time together like they always did before bed but she shooed him away as soon as he had knocked on her door. he tried several times to corner her alone after that waiting by the library to see the end of her lessons with the septa or at the dragon pit waiting for her to come down from her flight with vermithor but with their wedding fast approaching it was impossible to do so. he gave up after the fifth day deciding to sulk about it instead or make it everyone’s problem that he wasn’t in the best mood because she had been avoiding it.

“he said that? for fucks sake! don’t you see that he is absolutely obssessed with you?” he asks taking her by surprise.

“he does not, seungcheol. you should’ve heard it come out from his own stupid mouth that i was just a duty to the crown for him!”

“ñuha perzys you are stupid to think he does not love you.”

“prove it then.” she interjected stubbornly.

“gods are you blind? have you really not noticed anything?” he asked as she shook her head ‘no’.

“do you ever wonder why father never reprimands you for things you do out of line? well, it’s because jeonghan always takes the blame for you even if father knows it was you who did it. all those fucking lords that would dare talk ill about you or sexualize you with him in the same room—the one’s who’d disappear all of a sudden? they’ve all been murdered by jeonghan. gods i would know—i was there as he tortured them before feeding them to vhagar once. he fears no consequences that will come to him if it meant you would be safe and taken cared for. that man has done things that would traumatise any other normal human being but he did it for you. if that doesn’t show his love and dedication to you i do not know who will ñuha perzys.”

“then why did he just not ask father from the start to marry me if he felt that way?”

“do you honestly think he will risk his relationship with you not knowing how you felt for him in return? he endured seeing you with lords not even worthy of you.”

she felt confused. had he really viewed her the way she did secretly? had she really missed all of that?

“fuck.” she cursed as realization of his actions, his words— him had set in her mind. “what do i do seungcheol? he most probably thinks i hate him for having to marry him.”

a smirk makes it way across seungcheol as he looked at her.

“leave that part to me, ñuha perzys.”

iii.

after days of trying to get him alone, the prince jeonghan was finally away from the chaos of preparing for their wedding. he had been practicing on a wooden dummy in the training yard, swiftly jabbing his sword as it delivered calculated and fluid movements that would make any enemy falter and die in a span of minutes. he was always skilled with a sword as he never wanted to not be prepared in case the threat of battle was present. he did not like his life being in the hands of his guards. she had approached him silently as he delivered one last swing at the dummy chopping it’s head off clean.

“ñuha dārilaros skoros ēza se dummy gaomagon naejot jiōragon such wrath hen ao?” my prince what has the dummy done to receive such wrath from you?

his head snapped at the sound of her voice as he sheathes his sword by his hip. he was mildly surprised to see and hear her infront of him after he had been unsuccessful at being granted a private audience with his betrothed for days.

“ñuha perzys, skoros grants nyke se rigle hen emare ñuha betrothed isse ñuha presence tolī tubissa hen issare denied hen such?” my flame, what grants me the honor of having my betrothed in my presence after days of being denied of such? his eyebrow raised teasing her but there was a hint of bitterness in his tone that wasn’t looked past by the princess.

“may i invite you to take a walk with me, my prince?” she asked politely as he nodded falling into step beside her as they walked through the gardens.

a tense silence blanketed the two royals as they walked in step with each other, hands so close to brushing each other with how close they were. months ago, they would watch each other walk the same paths in the garden with each other’s betrothed with spite as they watched their betrothed try to swoon them over with flattery that would take them nowhere—nothing would swoon them over. no amount of riches, fame and flattery could. they just weren’t who plagued their thoughts.

“will you ever tell me why you’ve been actively avoiding me or shall i tickle it out of you?” jeonghan piped up as he stared down at her.

“i have not been avoiding you. i’m just busy with wedding preparations—”

“bullshit! i have been busy with my own share of wedding preparations but will always have time to spend with you. what have i done ñuha perzys?” he demanded standing infront of her as she peered up at him.

“for someone as smart as you are, you are quite dense.”

“ivestragon nyke kostilus, nyke daor gūrogon se lyka treatment hen ao mirre longer ñuha perzys.” tell me please, i cannot take the silent treatment from you any longer my flame. he begged as he grasps her hand in his own.

“a duty.” she whispered watching his face morph into a confused expression.

“you called me and our betrothal a fucking duty to the crown.” she glared at him as realization passes him.

“ñuha perzys, you are a duty i would gladly fulfill until my last breath but you are not only that to me. however, i would rather tell you that in a more private setting rather than the gardens where someone could easily eavesdrop into our conversation.” he explained as he kissed the back of her hand.

“sepār ȳdragon isse Valyrīha, mērī īlon drējī shifang se udrir isse īlva lentor se se people kesīr.” just speak in valyrian, only we truly understand the language in our family and the people here. she uttered pulling her hand away creating some distance from him.

he sighed pressing his lips together but nodded. he gathered his thoughts as she stared at him, jaw clenching as she absentmindedly bit on her lip.

“fuck—don’t do that.” he whispered.

“speak or i’ll leave.”

“i will—just. fuck.”

jeonghan was never this bothered by any woman. he was used to women fawning and lusting over him usually throwing the bodies against his hoping to receive a reaction from him (they don’t) before he pushes them away in disgust. so how was it that by simply biting with her lips, he could feel his self restraint thinning fast.

“i’m serious. i will leave.”

“don’t.” he pleaded.

she narrowed her eyes at her betrothed as she stared at his tense form. she could faintly make out the built of his body from the way his sweat made his clothes stick to his body. she gulped trying to rid of the unholy thoughts running through her head.

“nyke gōntan daor mazōregon emare naejot dīnagon ao sepār kesrio syt nyke viewed ao hae such. iksan daor mēre qilōni kessa dīnagon syt political reasons iā mirros tolie than se fact se ābra nyke dīnagon iksis se ābra nyke jorrāelagon. nyke gōntan daor chase qrīdrughagon mirre lī ābrar, ossēnagon mirre lī lords, gūrogon multiple blames syt anyone. ao gīmigon se type hen issaros iksan ñuha perzys.” i did not accept having to marry you just because i viewed you as such. i am not one who will marry for political reasons or anything other than the fact the woman i marry is the woman i love. i did not chase away all those women, murder all those lords, take multiple blames for anyone. you know the type of person i am my flame.

he thought about the lords he’d torture and feed vhagar after hearing such disgusting and crude marks about her—people who viewed and lusted her as just some royal whore made his blood boil. he swore that as long as he lived, he would kill such disgusting animals without any mercy.

“eman dedicated ñuha ābrar naejot ao. nyke promised nykēla bona hae bōsa hae ao sagon biare kesan gaomagon everything isse ñuha power bona ziry stays bona ñuhoso. bona daor ōdrikagon kessa mirre māzigon naejot ao. kostan daor sagon se sȳrje rȳ expressing ñuha emotions rȳ udra yn nyke hope bona hēnkirī kesan sagon able naejot. jaelan īlva naejot sagon isse iā biare dīnilūks ñuha perzys. mērī ao se eman keskydoso inferno bona burns deep iemnȳ īlva. īlon we’re va moriot meant naejot zālagon brighter hēnkirī. lo nyke could urnēptre ao skorkydoso olvie nyke jorrāelatan ao nyke would” i have dedicated my life to you. i promised myself that as long as you're happy i will do everything in my power that it stays that way. that no harm will ever come to you. i may not be the best at expressing my emotions through words but i hope that together i will be able to. i want us to be in a happy marriage my flame. only you and i have the same inferno that burns deep within us. we we’re always meant to burn brighter together. if i could show you how much i loved you i would.

he watched her for any reactions from him basically professing his love and dedication to her. he was practically calling her his already.

“pār urnēptre me—prove naejot nyke bona ao aren’t verdagon bisa bē sepār naejot mazverdagon nyke rȳbagon skoros jaelan naejot rȳbagon.” then show me—prove to me that you aren’t making this up just to make me hear what i want to hear.

her eyes burned into his own, a look of need behind them. she needed him to prove whatever he said to be true. it was a harsh environment they lived in, they needed each other to get through it alive besides, two dragons are better than one right? his head was foggy as he made his decision but he knew this was the way he could prove his feelings towards her.

he kissed her. he heard her breath hitch as his lips crashed against hers.

“i’d do anything for you, ñuha perzys.” his hands gripping her waist as he whispered between kisses. “you just have to say it.”

his touch sent tingles through her entire body. he had touched her before but never this way, it felt addicting to touch her that way—in ways only he could.

“tell me what you want. i promise you i’ll give it to you, anything you want.”

“you.” she whispered as their lips brushed against each other.

“i want you jeonghan. i’ve waited long enough to have you this way ñuha jorrāelagon. i will not wait any longer.”

never had jeonghan imagined the day he would hear her speak such words towards him—all those years of pining and protecting her had taken him to this position. she was a magnificent sight to him. he had always seen her in such way despite knowing of the many personalities that she displays to certain people. she held herself in power and bravery without doubt with a fire behind her actions. she was always his flame.

“eman waited tolī bōsa naejot rȳbagon lī udra issare uttered hen aōha lips ñuha jorrāelagon.” i have waited too long to hear those words being uttered from your lips my love.

“i’m sorry for making you wait,” she had pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as he gripped her closer to him.

“i would wait a thousand years to be with you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

“you do not need to wait any longer. i am here now.” she smiled as she pressed her lips against his.

they kissed each other as if they were starved, jeonghan’s tongue sliding into her mouth as she moaned at the feeling of his hands grabbing unto her ass. she moved forward slightly pressing herself harder against him as he groaned at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest.

he pulled away foreheads touching as they caught their breaths. he smiled kissing her softly before cupping her face in his hands.

“let me take you somewhere more private.” he whispered as she nodded.

letting herself laugh as he took her hand into his and dragged her into his chambers. what they would be doing was immoral but neither had cared at that point. they were getting married soon anyways what difference would it make?

jeonghan takes the sight of her in his chambers in. she had been in there before but it was different now. her visits once used to be of innocent banter and chatter but it succeeded that now.

a smile ghosts across his lips as he slowly brushes a stray lock of her hair away from her face as she leaned in towards his touch. he kissed along her neck smiling as he heard her breath hitch tangling her fingers in his long locks.

he hummed as he nipped at her neck leaving bruises in his wake. his hands were running along the curve of her breasts to the curve of her back leaving her breathless.

“you have no idea how long i have been imagining seeing you in this light dearest sister. do you touch yourself at the thought of me?” he asked, pulling the fabric of her dress down to swirl his tongue on her nipple.

“always.” she breathed biting back a moan. “gods just touch me already.” the way his tongue swirled around her nipple and his featherlight touches had her arousal pooling between her legs.

“mmm…patience, little one.” he whispered against her skin, goosebumps rising.

her chest rose and fell, eyebrows furrowing at the pleasure she was getting from just his tongue. he’d tease her another time—he wanted her now.

jeonghan pulled his tunic off in a swift move, his trousers coming off just as quick. her eyes followed his movements, widening at the sight of him. was he going to fit in her? the thought sending shivers down her spine as he kissed her.

she had wrapped her legs on his hips, their cores brushing against each other earning moans from both of them. he was intoxicated with the way she coated his dick with her slick. he wanted more. he needed more.

he had kissed her with a ferocity he had held back all those years. he walked them towards the edge of his bed. gently he lowered her to his bed his lips peppering kisses on her chest down to her waist until he reacher her inner thighs.

“jeonghan.” she moaned out as his nose brushed her clit.

“relax, ñuha perzys.”

he licked her cunt, eyes watching as she wriggled in pleasure as he drank every drop of arousal he could get out of you. pleasure pooled in your lower regions as he stuck his tongue into you whilst his fingers played with your clit.

“seven fucking hells! yes just like that.” she cursed as she pushed his head deeper into her.

he chuckled as he continued his pace of pushing two fingers into her inserting another one to stretch her out futher, he could feel her getting close as her walls clenched around his fingers. the knot in her stomach painfully tight as her legs squished his head his tongue sending her over the edge.

he licked her arousal as she rode out her high. eyes fluttering shut as jeonghan pulled away to kiss her on the lips wanting to taste herself on his tongue.

he kissed her deeper as he aligned himself to her cunt, brushing his tip against her sensitive clit causing her to moan out once more.

“i need you inside me, please…” she pulled away from their kiss.

“it’s going to hurt for a bit ñuha perzys.” his eyes met hers as she nodded.

he rubbed circles into her hip as he coated his entire length with her arousal before sliding into her all the way to the hilt. she moaned feeling so full of him, falling back against the pillow. he kissed her as he allowed her to adjust to his size.

she could feel the pain subside before the immense pressure she felt. he moaned as he felt her clench around him.

“gods that feels so good.” she moaned out as she tapped his shoulder to make him start moving.

jeonghan peppered kisses along her neck and chest as he pulled out until the tip of his dick before bottoming out.

“seven fucking hells you fit me perfectly.” he growled into her ear as he rammed into her at a fast pace.

he reached around her to roll her nipple between his finger with her crying out in pleasure.

“you are my flame, princess. i crave your fire as i crave you.”

she had felt a sense of cockiness go through her as she heard those words fall from his lips. she had ripped herself away from him and pushed him to lay on the bed with a growl. she ran her fingers over the skin on his abdomen, lightly dragging her nails across his skin, making goosebumps appear. she had straddled his hips, aligning his dick against her core. with eyes locked on his, she slowly sank herself all the way down to his balls, mouth falling open as he stretched her.

“you’re fucking gorgeous, ñuha perzys,” jeonghan breathed as he gripped her hips, “fuck me. be my good girl and ride my dick.”

she did as he requested using his chest as leverage rolling her hips as she bounced on top of him. each time she came down his dick hit deep inside her hitting that one spot that made her see stars and clench around him.

she was losing herself with every new sensation she felt, every minute of her riding him pushing her closer to the edge of madness. jeonghan’s hands was busy pinching and tugging her nipple as the other reached between them to stroke the bundle of nerves.

“you’re doing so well,” he cooed. “just like that love…”

gods, he would be the cause of her undoing.

“jeonghan…i’m close…” she cried out as her head fell back.

and in one smooth motion, the prince had rolled them over, pinning her hands over her head. pounding into her at a brutal pace, jeonghan had latched his mouth to her breast, catching her nipple between his teeth and pushing her over the edge.

“jeonghan!” she screamed his name as her orgasm exploded through her, tearing through her and leaving her a panting mess beneath him.

“fuck…” he cursed out, pumping in and out of her chasing his own high before he finally came spilling himself inside her.

she had looked up at him, finding affection gracing his features. she had cupped his face bringing his face to her own to kiss him.

“does that prove how much i longed for you?” he asked as he pulled away from her breathless.

“it has, ñuha jorrāelagon.” she had smiled as he settled down beside her drapping the furs on their naked bodies.

“remember this,” he had run his fingers through her locks as she settled on the crook of his neck. “i would give the world to you if you asked me to. i will let the world burn if it meant you’d be mine for eternity. that is how much i love you.”

“i am yours as the sea belongs to the moon, the way dragons belong to the skies, and the way the embers in my heart only burn for you. you are the fire that i would conquer kingdoms for. my soul will forever be entangled into yours, as long as i shall live.”

jeonghan knew then that no matter what he would be the cause of the world’s demise if ever the god’s that reigned over them decide to play their ruthless games on her because she was what kept him away from the madness that always seemed to grab a hold of them.

they were from the same fire—always destined to burn together.

#choi seungcheol #jeonghan smut #svt scenarios #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeenfanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen au

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lullabyalikpoptarot · 2 months ago

Text

BTS (Green/Yellow/Red Flags) In Relationships

Alright, want to get to them next. I feel this will be a mess lol so lets get to it lol

Jin

Green (7 of Wands) He will be protective. He will guard his partner from any hate or scrutiny they may get. He will stand by his partner no matter and defend them; he will stand as a united front with his partner.

Yellow (5 of Pentacles) He won't be the type to ask for support. He would try to do things on his own. I do think his partner might get left out in the cold with him. He may not always be there for his partner.

Red (9 of Swords) Relationships are stressful af with him. There is legit a paper with a paper burning with the word love on it, that is significant, I have never noticed that before. I keep hearing fuck love. I just don't think he cares for love or relationships at the moment. He doesn't seem like the relationship type guy, but will do it because it is expected of him.

Suga

Green (The Magician) Interesting green flag. He can plan out fun dates for his partner. He has the ability to put a spell on his partner, magnetize them, make them believe he is a great partner. He may make his partner feel good about themselves as well. I just see lots of fancy dinners and night outs.

Yellow (2 of Wands) In it for the attraction. He tends to date people he is more sexually attracted to, not really out of an emotional connection, which can lead him astray. He could have a potential to cheat, flirt with others while dating.

Red (King of Swords) Very logical and rational, lack emotional depth, or doesn't want to show it, can be harsh with his words, too critical. I am not getting any indication of emotions here, so yeah. I do get a sense he doesn't reveal his true self either. It is like he blocks the emotional side of himself, just kind of cold.

Jhope

Green (The Star) He would be someone healing for his partner. Someone who can bring hope and optimism. He would be someone you can talk to about anything. He would love to dream and plan with his partner. I mean he is called Jhope for a reason lol

Yellow (5 of Cups) I am getting he mourns things too easily, can get down in the dump, focuses too much on what he lost, very hard to move on from grief, oh his Venus in Pisces energy is coming through here. I can see him guilt tripping his partner as well.

Red (Ace of Cups) I feel he falls deep way too quickly, gets way too emotionally invested a bit too soon and he could be prone to love bombing.

Green (4 of Cups) This one confuses me, I got he knows how to distract, how is this a green flag? He is good at emotionally disconnecting, but not seeing why this is good. I can also see this as maybe he won't be the type to cheat, he may get offers and be put in situations to do so, but doesn't bite.

Yellow (Temperance) He may compromise himself a bit too much to blend into his partner, so he won't truly be his authentic self. He doesn't want arguments. He wants things to remain peaceful, so he may struggle to have a disagreement when need be. I always see this card as appearance will be important to him. They would need to blend well together. Now, this could be a good thing, but this being a yellow flag it really isn't. It is like he may have an idealized idea of a relationships that isn't how it should be or can be, I get a bit of a perfectionist vibe here.

Red (6 of Wands) Can be arrogant, may like to have the upper hand. He has a strong sense of pride, he may not like someone who challenges him, or he may like the challenge, but needs to have the upper hand at the end. This makes no sense with his yellow flag wtf dude lol

Jimin

Oh god, this dude, his energy is all over the place, these cards flew out everywhere.

Green (10 of Pentacles) I don't know how to see this as a green flag, this card is about investment, generational wealth, family pride, money, finances. He will provide financial stability for his partner. A good home and environment.

Yellow (Ace of Cups) I always get love bombing energy from this card and getting it here. Will pour out his emotions and show vulnerability to get what he wants. I don't think it is authentic most of the time, because this is a yellow flag.

Red (The Devil) Well, the most toxic card you can get. Sadist did pop up, just a messenger, don't come at me. He could be into BDSM, I mean the card in this deck gives that vibe. Although not that bad if you are into it. He just has some toxic tendencies, can't tap into what that is. Beware of him to be honest.

Not feeling that vibe at all.

Green (4 of Cups) Once again, like RM, probably doesn't take the bite on opportunities to cheat. Can dissociate from obligations with his career that could make him cheat, like do they get offers for people to sleep with them wtf is this energy. Anyway, he doesn't put himself in compromising positions.

Yellow (The Hierophant) I got stale, basic, very traditional, goes by traditions, does what has been done in the past. Doesn't step outside the box or his comfort zone. Could follow what older generations have done. He sounds like the stereotypical conservative Korean boyfriend.

Red (Temperance) Ugh, this card, appearance is important. Keeping a stable front, even if it is unrealistic. It is like he wants to be a stereotypical happy unit, like look at us, we look good on paper. I see no love here to be honest. It is like the person has to balance him out just perfectly with no disturbances.

Jungkook

Green (Knight of Cups) He can be very warm and loving. Very receiving. A romantic, open his heart pretty easily. Offers love and support to his partner. His partner will feel special with him, showering them with love and gifts of love.

Yellow (Justice) I am trying to understand why this is a yellow flag, this card is about being cordial, communicating effectively to resolve arguments. It is like does he always need someone else to help him resolve problems? rather than resolve it himself with his partner, like there may need to be a third party involved to help him. Like he always asks for others advice, rather than work through it himself or with his partner

Red (10 of Cups rv) He struggles to find his happy ending, how is this a red flag. It is like he struggles to go the long haul. Not sure his relationships last long. It is like he is blocked from reaching his happy ending in love. Had to get a clarifier and got the lovers, now I get it. He seems to have way too high standards for love and that is why it all falls apart. It never encompasses what he imagines and so things fall apart. He puts way too much attention to love; he puts it on a pedestal. That could lead him to feel very disappointed when things are not as he visualized it to be, which causes problems. Also, his partner will never live up to what his standards are.

The maknae line was a mess, so hard to understand that energy, honestly most were confusing af here, this was the best I can do lol I got a headache now lol

#kpop tarot #bts tarot

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mercurianchild · 11 months ago

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hey beautiful,

could you make a post about Venus in 8th house? You’ve mentioned you have this placement and I do too! Thank you very much for your time. 🩷

🖤Venus in the 8th house🖤

TW: mentions of death and s*x

The most common thing I have seen is that this placement (along with scorpio Venus and Venus-Pluto aspects) is s*xualised and glamorised a lot. While it is true, that this placement gives an alluring and interesting aura, it’s not just that. Venus 8th house people have to offer so much more!

A lot of my friends and family members share this placement and we all share one thing: the ability to love so deeply that it hurts. This ability can also turn toxic or even turn into obsession if this placement is underdeveloped.

A lot of 8th housers also stay with people for longer than they should. Most of the times they have outgrown some situations or people, but they refuse to let go because of the feelings they feel. I’ve also been trough that many times. In hope that the spark will come back or that the people involved would change.

A common thing I’ve seen is that it is really hard to let go of people they love. I’ve seen this in friends AND family members that they just can’t let go of certain people where love was involved. For me, it’s still that one guy who I haven’t talked to for 5 months now. In the end, he hurt me. But he showed me what it’s like to be loved. I am still not over him and I know it will take some work to let go of him. With him, I experienced what I envisioned as love between two beings.

Venus in 8th house people are (like other 8th house placements) able to read people like a book. The gut feeling about others is never wrong. Intuition is high.

Could be more into trying extreme and intense things in bed like bdsm or playing with knives. 🔪💀⛓️

Very much into occultism and practising it. All my 8th house friends, for example, are in coven or practices witchcraft. Very into herbs and Hollis tub healing methods.

Which leads to the point that people with this placement are natural healers (if developed).

Natural understanding for psychology. Like really!!! Not just theoretical, but also being able to apply it in real life!

Constantly going through death and rebirth moments in life. A lot of ego deaths will happen.

On the other hand, this placement can bring a lot of hate and resentment from women (no matter if the individual is male or female). A lot of jealousy from other woman which makes it hard to find out who will stab you in the back when you’re not around. This can also lead to trust issues in friendships!

Feeling emotions so intense that it may be difficult to word them. Something that helped me was to find a creative way to let them out. Writing, painting or creating music are wonderful activities.

Red and darker colours look wonderful on these individuals (yes, this can vary depending on the rest of the chart and genetics)

Underdeveloped Venus in 8th house can make someone prone to be a pick me or a real meanie.

Either these individuals had some point of being bullied in teen years or them bullying others.

Constant feelings of so much depth. Whenever I’m around other 8th housers I feel so understood. It’s like a warm hug. We just know what you’re feeling.

I said it before, but the ability to heal… just by being there. Just the presence of these individuals is so intoxicating and loving!

Tend to have very dark humour and make jokes about inappropriate things.

Knack for taboo topics. No fear in discussing them.

Love to keep things private or even a secret. Like being involved in affairs just for the sake of it being a secret thing. I feel like some may enjoy something like that just for the thrill of it.

A lot of secret admirers!!

Can have issues with s*xuality and some may not be s*xually active until their late teen years or early adulthood. From what I’ve seen in friends, read online or even experiences myself, there can be also some unconscious trauma relating to one’s s*xuality.

Last but not least: these individuals are hard to forget, as they carry so much depth, magic and power… once they recognise their potential, it’s over for all them bitches trying to put them down!!

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #zodiac #astrology community #astro placements #8th house #venus #venus 8th house #Scorpio Venus #Venus-pluto

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nightwngz · 10 months ago

Note

OOOOH my god I just read your fic with Hal and Kyle, I adored it so much!! I love your style and I SO love the Hal and Kyle content. I'm so serious I've been dreaming of a fic like that w the two of them aghhh it really is a dream come true 😍😍 I would love to see more of reader being a brat towards Kyle, that's just *chef's kiss*

sorry this got kinda long but I'm so looking forward to whatever else you write! thank you for sharing! - nightjarwings

WORST BEHAVIOR !

kyle rayner x fem!reader x hal jordan

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . smut. porn without plot. Daddy kink with Hal and brat taming with Kyle. Hal is a voyeur for a while. Dirty talk, humiliation. Oral sex, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . OMGGG I would write an entire alternate universe about this if my readers wanted it. By the way... I wrote this for you, is like a part two of my last one shot. Hope you like it <3

Among the many things Kyle Rayner used to dislike was you taking his attention away, especially when you were acting like such a brat.

He didn't understand how it was so easy for Hal to let you eat out of his hand while he had to practically train you to behave. But giving you what you deserved every now and then was the most fun part of the game.

His hand carefully opened the expanse of every fold of your pussy. It was abused by his touches, little strokes on your clit and above all, obscene licking in and out of your little hole.

— Where is your daddy now? — He teased you about what you used to call Hal. — When I eat your pussy, you don't remember him, do you? Too bad. I wish he'd come over and see how well I eat you.

He was right. When you were with one of them, it was almost impossible to think about the other. Still, the constant competition for your attention was exciting and fun. You couldn't help but notice how much it excited you.

His tongue touched every pleasure spot in you. You could hear him licking as he dug his nails into the skin of your thighs to keep you from pulling away.

The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of his perfume. However, at that moment it was very difficult for you to think about outside stimuli. Your only thought was how good his lips felt on your pussy.

The pleasure was indescribable. It was hard to find a man as good at oral work as Kyle and Hal. But they were very different. Kyle, for example, liked to get right to the point: bite, lick and play. Hal will eat you up like it's his last meal and wipe it all over with his tongue.

— I want you to remember me when you see him. — He came closer and whispered to you. — And remember how hard I fucked you and how dirty you left the sheets. Will you do that for me, my love?

When you texted Hal, he wasn't pleased enough with Kyle's comment. You knew this was a constant competition both in and out of bed, and you always enjoyed when each of them would be more accommodating to you in order to beat the other.

Maybe the video of Hal fucking you in the foreground was a sign that he had crossed the line.

This time Hal had refrained from being possessive of you and let Kyle have the pleasure of being your sole master for a while. Or maybe there was just something about him that gave him a certain pleasure just watching you being eaten in his bed.

— Will you keep our agreement, baby? Will you tell your daddy how much you like being devoured by me? He's all ears now.

You refused to answer, just looking at Hal as you continued to gently bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans.

— I'm sorry, Daddy...

Kyle immediately smacked your clit, giving you a corrective slap without intending to hurt you.

— What is that fucking 'sorry daddy' shit, you stupid brat? Do you want me to stop? — He asked, frowning at you.

— No, no, no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Kyle. — You apologized almost in tears. — Please don't stop.

Kyle's face went back to concentrating on his work as he continued to move between your legs, making circular motions with his tongue. Hal moved closer to you, watching you with mock disappointment.

— You disappoint me, doll. Changing me just to make you come? You've become a desperate fucking slut.

A layer of sweat covered your body. Kyle's movements, accompanied by Hal's incredible talk, were all that was needed to bring you to an imminent orgasm.

— I hope this mouth at least serves a purpose.

Soon your mouth was filled by the size of Hal's cock, who was somewhat pleased to hear your moans, which gave him a rather vibrating sensation that served as a means of stimulation.

Watching you from above, the man could see the tip of his cock sliding across your tongue. You looked absolutely beautiful as your lips sucked and your hair fell over your shoulders. He wanted to stain it with his cum. Then he would take a nice picture of you being completely ruined because of him.

You finally orgasmed, still feeling all of Hal's manhood buried in your throat. Kyle took it upon himself to clean up every drop with his tongue, which managed to distract you a bit from your other task.

Angrily, the brown-haired man began to fuck your mouth, moving your head to the rhythm he imposed to get some of your attention.

Your face began to fill with huge tears that slid down your cheeks until they fell to the ground. He used his thumb to wipe them away, unable to help but laugh at you as he saw you bow down before him.

— Do I really need to remind you who is in control?

He pushed his cock into every part of your mouth. Your tongue circled around it, trying to take it all in, though it was obviously impossible. You wanted to pause, which didn't even last twenty seconds, and you continued, taking every part of his manhood into your mouth, as well as what you couldn't reach with your hands.

In the end, you were stained with every drop of his semen. You tried to swallow it all, although it was difficult to get it all down your throat; some of it spilled on your chin.

— I'm-I'm... I'm sorry, Daddy. It's just that K-Kyle... —You sobbed as you tried to speak.

Immediately, you were pulled under the body of the aforementioned man. Positioned on top of you, he penetrated you so deeply that you screamed. You cried and screamed with pleasure as you felt him slide in and out of you.

— Easy to predict. — Hal grunted as he settled into the chair in front of the bed.

He was never gentle, the way he fucked you showed how angry he was. You liked to be disobedient to him, to cross the line, to be rebellious... all to make him take you as exquisitely as he did.

You took it well. Your hole squeezed him in a most delicious way, leaving you full and with an exhausted need for him to empty himself into you.

The sound of his body slamming into you made a noise that could be heard in every corner of the room. The bed moved to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your moans dug into his ear as your nails dug into his back, scratching him.

You really wanted him to kiss you. But every time you sought his lips, he did nothing but reject you as if he was disgusted by you. He would watch you from above and see how your face reacted to the pleasure, but he would not kiss you, let alone accept your kisses.

The smell of your sweet perfume made him sick. Although he adored you deep inside, he detested you and hated your perfume as much as he hated you. He couldn't help but desire you, and being with you felt incredibly good despite his misgivings.

Hal was more passionate that way. He liked to kiss you too often, and none of his kisses felt forced, despite his hatred for you. You were his plaything, like so many others, but he had a knack for making them all think they were special when they were just one of the crowd.

— Since you love begging Daddy to forgive you so much, I want you to beg him to let you come now.

You looked directly into Hal's deep-set eyes as he watched you intently from his position. Your gaze reflected intense need; you were literally begging him to let you come.

— Hal... please... Daddy, I beg you.

He looked at you and drew a smile with a certain superiority on his face.

— Nah... I guess today's not your lucky day, honey. Maybe you should try a little harder next time.

Kyle emptied himself completely inside you, completely thwarting your now unattainable orgasm.

They both walked away and watched you lying on the bed as they laughed at you. Without further ado, you began to whimper as you crawled across the surface of the bed, begging some more with what little dignity you had left.

— Please, I need it... can you give it to me? — You begged them, sobbing.

Kyle went out of his way to stroke your hair with gentle affection. At the same time, he laughed at how desperate you could get.

That was the lesson you had learned: you couldn't be a brat, especially not when it came to Hal. Kyle, on the other hand, was used to your bad behavior, but today you had fallen victim to what could happen if you misbehaved with either of them.

#dc comics #dc universe #smut #hal jordan #hal jordan x fem!reader #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan smut #kyle rayner #kyle rayner x reader #kyle rayner smut #green lantern #green lanter corps

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honeyynymphh · 5 months ago

Text

An Ever-Fixed Mark

|| Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader/OC || Rating: T (for now) Chapter: 1 of 5 Words: 2.8k

Married to Aemond Targaryen, life at court has not been what Lady Brakenwyn ever imagined. It is monotonous and lifeless inside the Red Keep with a husband who does care for her and who would rather spend coin in the slums of Kings Landing than with his own wife. She can't help but let her mind wander and yearn for the affections of a man who pays her the slightest attention - a man that she cannot have: the Hand of the King. Tags: pining, forbidden romance, infidelity, author is prone to purple prose (tags will be updated as story progresses) Ao3 Link

A/N: This story is in first person so can be read as a reader insert or as an OC, she is not described nor does she have a first name. No Y/N. Reader is married to Aemond but he is barely in the story. I have not read any books so I am operating on vibes mostly. I just want to write about that old man.

How embarrassing it was to be wed to a child. At least, that was what I felt my life had become. While Aemond Targaryen was a man grown, he still clung to the temperament of boyhood and delighted too much in the station he had been born with. The banquet hall was loud and raucous with the sound of happy chatter and laughter. Though I felt no joy as I sat at the large table on my own, watching my husband whisper to some other lady in a dark corner. I knew our marriage was nothing more than a political alliance and also some sort of punishment for the prince. Or perhaps not a punishment, but a desperate hope that he would act more as a prince should if he were wed. So quickly had I seen the foolishness in such a notion that I was surprised anyone had thought our union was a good idea.

I sighed and stared into my wine cup. I wished to be anywhere but here in the Red Keep, and certainly not at this name day celebration for a man I had tried to love and only grown to resent. As soon as I had arrived in King’s Landing I felt as if I didn’t belong. Where I was older than the prince, I felt out of place in court amongst those my own age. The other ladies were polite but we had not grown together so to them I was nothing but an outsider. The queen was kind to me, in a sort of distant fashion. I felt her disappointment in me, as if I could fix Aemond and unite mother and son once more - more foolishness. I snuck a glance at her and could see the annoyance that caused her lovely face to frown as she watched her second son.

“My lady, would you dance with me?”

The words startled me from my musings and I glanced across the table to see Ser Henry, at least I was sure that was his name. I knew him to be one of Prince Aegon’s Kingsguard, though I frequently saw him speaking with Aemond. He seemed to be the only one who even acknowledged my existence. I was certain that my husband had sent him over to me, to entertain me…to keep me happy. Aemond treated me as if I were one of the family’s dragons, not that I was capable of much strength nor fire breathing or flight. But I was capable of making more little baby dragons and that was all my worth had become, not that he put any effort into such an endeavor.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded at the knight, before making my way towards him. I took his proffered hand and let him lead me into the crush of people dancing amongst the glowing candelabras. I barely paid attention to anything but the music, the glorious sound of lutes and harps mingling together to create such beautiful sounds as I let him lead me across the floor. This I knew would be the closest I ever came to flying, no matter how hard I prayed to the gods to give me wings so I could leave this place.

“He says you should try and look happy,” whispered Ser Henry, his lips barely moving.

My face twitched but I mostly kept it blank as I stared at a point over his armoured shoulder.

“Maybe he should try and make me happy,” I said.

“Lady Brakenwyn.”

It was just my name, my old name, but it was a warning. The ‘Lady from the Riverlands’ was all I was to those in King’s Landing, even though I had not set foot there since I had been a child. As a ward of House Hightower, I had spent most of my life in Oldtown and had assumed I’d be promised to someone in the Reach. How I wish my mother hadn’t been such a scheming woman and my father so happy let her do as she pleased.

“He will send you back to the Riverlands.”

In a box, was clearly left unsaid. Foolishness on my part, that had been, to think my mother would be content with a match from a noble house in the Reach. No, my houses’ army and fealty was worth a Prince.

I held my tongue, not wishing to argue when I knew it would be in vain. It was pointless the threats, I knew they needed my parents fealty and would not displease House Brakenwyn by sending back their only child in a wooden casket. How stupid I had been a year ago to think coming to King’s Landing would be like in the stories, that I would be happy to be wed to a prince and to live in such a castle with the rulers of Westeros. How I missed how hopeful and joyous I had been before coming here.

But I would not let my melancholy ruin one of my only pleasures as Ser Henry continued to sweep me across the stone floor, his steps were a little erratic and his grip unsure but it improved my mood drastically. The music changed, the melody becoming more upbeat and while I could not recall the name of it, I knew it well. It was accompanied by a simple dance that involved changing partners and swinging steps, it was the sort of dance better suited for warm nights outside, not trapped in a stone room. But that didn’t deter me, I was happy as I switched Ser Henry to dance with a stout but cheerful nobleman, red in the face from drink who laughed heartily as he spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh in response to his merriment, even as he repeatedly stood on my feet. My spirits grew when I heard the sound of Princess Helaena’s laughter drift towards me. My head turned to see her as she danced with her grandfather, who smiled at her in such a way that I wished so desperately to have bestowed upon my own person.

It would not do for me to stare, and I did try not to, but I couldn’t help it as the dance drew us near. Helaena smiled dreamily at me, as was her way, before I was suddenly in the arms of the Hand of the King. Unlike the unsure grip of Ser Henry and the over eagerness of the drunken nobleman, Otto Hightower held me with an assuredness and reverence that made my heart swell. The Hand was one of the few people I spoke to at length, as I frequently saw him in the castle library. His gentle manner and keen mind had managed to captivate me, and though I knew it was fatuous to have such thoughts about a man, not only so much older than I, but the grandfather of my own husband, I could do nothing to stop the growing fondness I felt for him.

I smiled at him, unable to help how earnest it was despite my inner admonishments. Afterwards, I would pray that he only thought my exuberance due to the dancing and not him. I didn’t wish to embarrass myself. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately in the case of idiotic fantasies, I was back with Ser Henry, watching as Ser Otto and Helaena were lost in the crowd.

“That’s better, my lady,” said Ser Henry at the expression on my face. “You look so much prettier when you smile. Perhaps you should dance more often.”

I merely nodded in response, it was pointless to speak any further.

When my feet throbbed, no thanks to the drunken nobleman, I returned to the high table and gave my thanks to Alicent, who had been busy attentively whispering in the King’s ear, before slinking out of the Great Hall and to my chambers. I had no desire to speak to Aemond, I had already given him my well wishes in the morning and that had been received as well as anything I ever said to him, which was mostly indifference.

It was much cooler in the empty corridors of the Keep and the silence a welcome respite from the manic noise of the celebrations. I walked distractedly until I pushed through the heavy door and into my room. My chambers were linked to Aemond’s, though it was a passage several feet in length with a heavy door at each end. His door was frequently locked. At first I had locked my own until I realised he had a key and would let himself in, usually to cast judgements upon me. I thought our shared interest in reading would have brought us close but all it did was earn his ire. He didn’t trust me and I had learnt not to trust him. I did not know where Aegon spent most of his nights, or more aptly, whom he spent them with. But I did not care, as long as he left me alone.

The next day dawned slowly, the sun's rays gradually filtering through the high windows of the windows of the Red Keep as if she too were reluctant to rise from her bed. I usually awoke early, preferring to spend the morning in the godswood as it was often empty, though I allowed myself a longer rest after the nights dancing. The bird calls were gentle and the breeze soft when I reached the godswood. Sometimes out here I could pretend I was not trapped in a prison of stone as I sat on a bench and let the wind gently caress my face, the fresh air lifting my spirits. It was a tranquil place that felt disconnected from the Red Keep in a way that I relished. I had chosen a dress of periwinkle blue, I so rarely wore the colours of House Targaryen - a small rebellion on my part, and I admired the way the sunlight made the fabric glitter, reminding me of the Honeywine River during twilight.

I did not linger long as I knew Ser Otto would be in the library at this time, he did not spend every day there but I had learnt his routine without even thinking to do so. Every so often, I made sure to arrive either early or late, so that it would not seem as if I followed him like some unwanted shadow. Perhaps all we would say to each other would be a greeting, but it was enough to keep my melancholy at bay. There were few comfortable chairs but many tables, usually covered in scrolls and other texts. Ser Otto was fond of a small desk in one of the alcoves as it was near a high window, the light filtering through making it easier to read. One of the few chairs that were nearby was my favourite as it allowed me to curl within it like a cat so I could read and bask in the warmth of the sunshine. I hadn’t even noticed him the first time we had shared that little alcove.

I took my usual spot, opening the book I had been reading and settled in. The Hand had not arrived yet and I was uncertain as to whether he would come today after last night. I knew a council meeting would be held soon and surely he would prefer to rest before attending. But my disappointment at these thoughts were short lived when I heard his measured footsteps, I knew the sound by heart. I pretended not to notice him until his low and soft gravelly words greeted me. That was all we said before he sat down to work. I did not ask what he did, I didn’t think it was my business to enquire into the workings of the Hand of the King, but I was glad for it.

I shouldn’t have observed him as closely as I did. My eyes shouldn’t have lingered over the way his hand held the quill and how deftly it would sweep across the page as he took notes. Occasionally, while reading, he would lick the tip of his finger so he could turn a page. I’d feel my breath stick in my throat then as if I could feel his mouth upon my own body. Aemond rarely lay with me, I think I could count upon one hand the few times we had been together as husband and wife. But when we had, he had been so bare, so smooth—the only hair on him that which was on his head. If it wasn’t for his eye, he would be a blank canvas. Ser Otto looked worn in the way that a favourite book did. There were stories there. How I yearned deep in the pit of my belly to trace the lines of his face and to feel his beard scratch against my inner thigh.

I took in a shuddering breath at that thought and looked away, feeling the heat suffuse my face. I knew he was looking at me then and I heard the creak of his chair as he came to stand before me.

“My lady, are you well?” His low voice rumbled and I nodded my head in response. “Are you certain?”

I gathered my scattered wits and looked up at him. “Yes, my lord hand.”

He smiled at me, a small but reassuring quirk of the lips. I treasured it, even though I knew it was nothing more than some sort of perfunctory affection on his part. I was the wife of one of his grandchildren and from a house aligned with the Hightowers. I knew this to be true yet I could not squash the terrible hope within me that he meant it.

I knew I needed to stop this ridiculous fascination. But I clung to it, even more so in the nights. When I lay alone and in the silence of the Keep, with nothing more than the sound of rain pouring against the glass panes, I would think of him and pretend he held me. That he would whisper such sweet things in my ear and offer comfort that I had not felt in years…comfort I don’t think I’d ever truly felt.

Perhaps it was the unattainable nature of it all that enthralled me so. It was a safe dream to have, even though it gnawed at my guilty conscience. Why should I not have such thoughts? It wasn’t as if I were the one spending most nights in the Street of Silk. Even if I had shared a room with my husband, I would have been alone.

The seventh day was tomorrow and I knew I would have to pray even harder for my fanciful mind. I looked down at the book in my lap and tried to go back to the passage I was reading but I barely took a word in.

“It was good to see you enjoying the evening’s festivities during Aemond’s name day celebrations.”

I looked up at Ser Otto again to find his attention was still fixed on me as he waited for my response.

“You dance very well,” I said, wishing I had something more intelligent to say.

“For an old man?”

I blanched and hastily tried to correct his assumptions. “No! I didn’t mean that, Lord Hand, I was simply expressing my commendation.” I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “I do not think you are old.”

The man smiled, an eyebrow raising in amusement. I realised suddenly he had been jesting with me.

“It’s been a long time,” he said with a sigh, “but if your only comparison is Ser Henry and Lord Lyrmount, then I would seem full of grace.” He smiled again at me, it was small but conspiratorial in the way it lingered about his mouth. “I hope your feet have recovered well enough.”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied even as my feet throbbed in remembrance of Lord Lyrmount's clumsy steps.

He said no more and I knew our conversation ended for the day, but how I treasured it and the small but pleasurable smiles he had given me. He packed his things then, I noted how neatly he always did so, and I was constantly drawn to the precise movements of his hands and tried to ignore the thoughts of said hands touching my skin with the same careful reverence that he gave those old books.

As he left, I felt I had achieved something momentous with him being able to jest with me, as if I were waging some little war for his affection - despite how foolhardy the battle was. I tried to tell myself he merely tolerated me because of my marriage but I couldn’t help but think he did like me, in a way. He could have sat anywhere else in the library or avoided me completely - I knew there was ample space in the Tower of the Hand and he had no need to be here.

I smiled to myself at this small victory and happily returned to my book as the footsteps of the Hand faded into the distance.

A/N: I wrote a lot of this with COVID brain fog so I apologise if anything makes no sense.

Title is from Sonnet 116 by Shakespeare

#my-writing #fanfic #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower x female reader #otto hightower x original character #otto hightower #otto hightower fanfiction #rhys ifans #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #fic: an ever-fixed mark

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