#I want to lock them in a room and study their interactions

[callofthecorvus]

Connected Timelines Ramble: Backing off my previous 'Geno has an ex' headcanon, what if Dust happened to be that ex? I can see them bonding over shared trauma: surviving a genocided timeline and losing their brothers.

So when Dust eventually came clean about his past, that he genocided his own timeline [and others under Nightmare], even if he felt guilty and wanted to change, the heartbreak and betrayal Geno would have felt was devastating.

Even if it was originally done to stop Chara, the fact that he continued to genocide other timelines was despicable in Geno's eyes. Dust became the very same person he hated, and all Geno could see when looking at Dust was her. He broke it off instantly and Dust respected his decision and never contacted him again.

Given that Nightmare and Dream have now been at peace for decades, they're often invited to the same get togethers. They've never told anyone else about their previous relationship, so they act all awkward around each other and nobody knows why.

[onsomenewsht]

Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

~

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

~

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you��re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

[readychilledwine]

Hi I hope you’re doing well! Can I request an azriel x feysands daughter reader fic where azriel leaves velaris and the inner circle temporarily after elain chooses lucien over him. He comes back like 50 years later and at that point rhys and feyre have two kids, nyx and reader. Azriel meets reader at a bar and the bond snaps, azriel is so shocked by the bond snapping that he doesn’t notice that she looks just like rhys and feyre. After going on dates and stuff, reader introduces azriel to her parents and everyone is hella confused.

Small World

Warnings - best friends daughter, implied smut, angry rhys

A/N - Azriel can't catch a break. Poor guy. Also, peep this cute divider from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Part Two is Here

Azriel held your hand tight as you two walked through Velaris. You were running late to a family dinner where he'd be meeting your parents, brother, and a few other people for the first time.

He watched familiar streets passing by, shadows grown eerily quiet. You stopped at a familiar restaurant, one he had frequented over 20 years ago. He came here with Rhys and Cassian almost weekly before they became mated, and he left the Night Court for 20 years.

He had told you his story of a beautiful love forbidden to him due to her mating bond. He had told parts of his past, of his journeys outside of night, of the past years he had spent healing.

He had been back in Velaris for almost 3 years. 2 of which were spent solely with you.

You had been moving into the apartment next to his when you two crossed paths. You had been struggling to carry a heavy box, so he had taken it from you, helping you get it into your apartment.

That quick interaction turned into nights spent reading together so you both weren't alone. Then coffee in the mornings. Then days spent shopping. Evenings spent out to dinner.

You two spoke about everything.

Well.

Almost everything.

Families were a mostly banned topic.

Azriel knew you had a brother 5 years older than you. He knew both of your mother was involved in your life, as well as married and mated. He knew you had 2 blood aunts, one of which was married, one of which was not. He knew your father was a banned topic.

You knew he had 2 blood brothers, the ones who had scarred his hands, 2 chosen brothers, and several others he considered family. That his mother was wonderful, that he hoped his father found a shallow grave.

But you had told him bringing family into your love life normally ended poorly.

And he had told you he had not been around or spoken to his found family since he left.

You two closed that book, choosing to be just you and him.

You stopped before hitting the private back room Azriel had been in many times. "As a reminder, my dad and brother are dicks."

Azriel leaned down kissing you softly. "I can handle a few assholes, angel."

You sighed heavily. "Just remember, I didn't tell you because they ruin everything. Please." He nodded again, resting his forehead on yours.

You two stood there breathing for a few seconds as he ran a hand through your sandy blonde hair. "Let's just go in. An hour," he murmured, moving to kiss your neck. "One hour and then we go home."

Home.

The cabin you two had just purchased and moved into.

Small. Intimate. Cozy.

Everything you two both didn't know the other never knew.

Everything you two wanted as soon as the bond snapped a couple months ago.

You shared one last kiss, opening the door.

Your father and mother had their backs to you, speaking with your brother who instantly paled the second he saw who you were with.

Azriel had gone stiff, eyes locked with a shocked Cassian.

Nesta almost dropped her wine with a gasp, handing flying to her mouth as she stepped back and shook her head.

Azriel looked at you again. Studying you harder.

Sandy blonde hair.

Button nose.

High cheek bones.

Part illyrian.

Eyes that reflected starlight.

Eyes that were near violet.

Rhysand's eyes.

"Mom, dad," you approached them, ignoring the tension in the room and pulling Azriel with you.

Rhys turned first, whiskey glass shattering in his grip before a look of shock and anger hit him. Feyre immediately turned after that. She was too stunned to move. "This is my mate and boyfriend-"

Elain whispered before you could finish, eyes watering with sadness and hope, "Azriel."

Rhys nodded, scratching his jaw. "I know who he is, babygirl."

Azriel watched you as you looked between them before your face fell. "You're that Azriel."

Feyre clapped her hands, forcing light and air into the room. "Let's sit and eat! This is a um, lovely, surprise. We should all be excited!"

Aunt Elain immediately moved, sitting on Azriel's other side. His hand found yours under the table, lacing your fingers together. Your father sat across from him, mother to one side, Cassian to the other. Nyx sat next to Nesta and her Elain as you all eat at the circled table.

"So where have you been," Nyx refused to be intimated by the situation, secretly filing this away as an example of why he was the better child. "And when did you start seeing my sister?"

Azriel shifted, clearing his throat. "I spent the last 17 years traveling the world. I've been back in Velaris for 3 years. I started seeing y/n 2 years ago."

Cassian drank his beer as if it was water before setting the mug down and refilling it. "You have been back for 3 years and didn't think to yourself that you should go visit your brothers?"

"I wasn't ready."

"But you were ready enough to fuck my daughter as a revenge move?"

"Rhys!" "Dad!"

Rhys put a hand up to your mother and gave you a look. "You would feel the same had it been Elain who ran, Feyre Darling. And you," he turned towards you. "You should have told me who he was."

"Do not speak to her like that. She is not a child."

Nesta looked up, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. "She is my child," Rhys growled. "You've been bedding your niece."

Nesta slammed her hands down, "Enough! She is not his niece by blood, and she is clearly upset. If you all cannot be civil, I'm taking y/n home." The room went silent with Lady Death's power flickering through it. "This is the first real family meal we have gotten to have in 20 years," a sad gaze met Azriel's. Guilt shook him, reminding him if the friendship he and Nesta had formed. The friendship he had abandoned. "Can we please just enjoy it."

You were uncomfortable, tears beginning to form as his scarred hand refound yours under the table and squeezed. Rhys nodded, going back to his food as the sound of utensils barely scraping and drinks being poured filled the air.

You should have put two and two together.

Scarred hands.

Massive wingspan.

Mysterious male.

Pretty dagger.

Of course he was that Azriel. The Azriel your Aunt Elain had been pining for for years now.

The Azriel who left in the dead of night leaving only a note.

The Azriel whose seat sat empty your whole life as your dad's stare always lingered on it.

You squeezed his hand back, glancing at the white wine on the table and your empty glass. It was a rare occurrence for you to drink, but now seemed like the perfect time. "Daddy, can I have some wine please?"

You hadn't thought about that either as two deep male voices replied as they reached for the wine, "Of course, baby."

The silence was deafening. Your real father too stunned to speak, Azriel's face growing red with embarrassment.

Cassian, always the joyful uncle, broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, as did your mother. The two of them gripping each other tightly as your father sat blinking over and over, trying to erase this moment from him mind.

It was then the tears fell, and you stood, leaving them to eat as you went into the bathroom.

Azriel and Rhys stared at each other. "We have to get through this for her. You have to get over it. It would have happened regardless of me being here or me leaving."

Rhys growled. "You left without warning, without consulting us, without-"

"You told me to do whatever I needed do to move on and prevent war with Autumn and Day. I did what I had to. I got help, I saw the world, I moved on. I did not plan on coming home and meeting y/n. I didn't even know she was yours until tonight." Azriel took a deep breath before turning to Nesta. "She needs you. Please."

She stood, her and Feyre went after the young female without hesitation. Nyx stood, offering an arm to Elain and forcing her from the room as his father and uncles, well, uncle and soon to be brother, spoke. "You want to talk about fucked up abandonment, Rhys? Where the hell have you been the past two years of her life?"

"Do not speak to me about things you do not understand or know about."

"How can he know," Cassian started gently. "How can he know how we're all working on fixing our relationships with her if we don't tell him. We aren't innocent, Rhys. Maybe this is the first step. Accepting them, loving them despite everything," a silent message was sent to Azriel through Cassian's eyes, "Maybe that's what it takes to bring y/n home."

Rhys looked up, eyes being to line with tears. "What does she say about me?"

Azriel sighed, drinking his whiskey heavily. "That her father favored her brother. Despite his power and ability to look and find the truth, he believed her brother without hesitation and would punish her for his actions at times. That he threatened her once by reminding her that as an illyrian, and as a female, her worth was in whom she was sold to."

Azriel watched the visible flinch. "I can't help but to wonder how bad the argument must have been for that to have been what you said to her."

"I caught her with Tamlin," Rhysand's voice broke. "I caught them whispering about running away together. About sailing somewhere and living out their lives, just the two of them now that he handed Spring over to his heir. She didn't know what he had done to Feyre, who he was. I," Rhys shook his head. "I lost my shit without explaining. Tamlin also didn't know she was mine. I hid her so well for her protection. To prevent anyone from trying to purchase her. I did such a great job protecting her that my protection backfired and she began to rebel."

Cassian sighed softly. "She moved out because Rhys told her he gave up. That if she wanted to explore the world without his hands, without our guidance, then that's what she should go do. He set her up with enough money to last 5 years, bought that apartment complex you two live in, and sent her on her way."

"She just doesn't listen."

Azriel shook his head. "Why would she listen when she isn't heard? From her side, you treat her like your father treated Selene."

"I love her much more than my father ever loved my sister."

"Then show her," Azriel leaned back into his chair. "Show her before I take her from this place, too."

Cassian stiffened, his breathing becoming deep but strained. "They're about to come out. Y/n wants to leave."

Azriel stood, "Then we go. I won't force her to stay here. Let me know when you're ready to talk, Rhys. And if you never are, do not be surprised when I do what I have to in order to keep her safe and happy."

You were out the door quickly and into Azriel's chest, shadows pulling you two away to wherever he took you for comfort, to wherever you felt safe. Feyre turned to Rhys, fire blazing in her eyes, "Fix. This."

PS - there will be a part two

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

[pearlywritings]

In father's embrace

synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 7.2k words

a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!

Ayato 

This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.

He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.

Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.

They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.

Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.

But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.

Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.

Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.

But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.

“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.

“Princess, where is your brother?”

Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.

“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.

“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”

“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.

“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.

When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.

“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”

They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.

“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”

“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”

The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.

Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.

“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.

“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”

And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.

Thoma

This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.

Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?

Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.

He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.

Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.

To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.

Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure. 

On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.

And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.

Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.

Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.

“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.

The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit. 

Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?

Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…

Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.

Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?

Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.

When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.

Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.

“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him. 

S V E E T S I R H E Y B T

And A P A P which he got from his lunch.

“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.

S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!

Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.

PAPA IS THE VERY BEST

“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”

Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".

Alhaitham and Kaveh

Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.

The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.

Alhaitham

Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.

He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.

And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.

As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness. 

By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.

Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.

Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.

“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”

Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.

“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”

“And I have questions why mine was declined!”

“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”

“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”

“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.

“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”

“You can’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”

Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.

Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.

“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.

“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.

“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”

“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”

You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…

“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”

“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”

“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.

“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”

“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”

“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”

Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”

Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.

As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.

Kaveh

Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).

As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).

From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees. 

When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.

Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.

But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what. 

Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.

On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.

Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.

Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.

"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.

The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.

"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.

"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?

"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."

Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.

"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."

"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."

"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."

"But mama says I am pretty like you."

"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.

"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."

Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.

"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."

Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.

When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.

You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again. 

He should take you on a date later this week.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."

Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.

“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.

“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.

“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”

“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”

“I love you too.”

Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.

The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.

Tighnari 

Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.

Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.

It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.

So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.

What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.

From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.

The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.

With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils. 

You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.

"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.

"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"

Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.

"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."

Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.

"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."

Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.

You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.

Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.

Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.

Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.

"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.

"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.

"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."

"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"

"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.

"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"

"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."

At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"

"Yes, daddy…"

"Yeah.."

"Mhm…"

"Sure, dad…"

And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || the bloody painter || maid!reader || 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au ||

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: hella exhibitionism

You thought over your numerous sexual encounters with the members of the Slenderman mansion. You recalled the roughness, the various positions. You catered to their every need. As you sat awkwardly in the center of an art room, a frail white sheet covering your exposed body, you couldn’t help but remember it all. You had been instructed by a man with bright yellow eyes that floated to sit on the stool and wait. You didn’t bother glancing at him twice, you were sure you’d become well acquainted with him after your interaction with Helen. Apparently, Helen was an artist according to the endless art supplies that sat around the room. They were all labeled and arranged neatly, not a single paint brush out of place. You had been blindfolded up until this point, the rest of the Trenderman mansion being hidden from you.

The cover up of you being a maid was stripped away from the moment you stepped into this mansion, considering the mansion smelled like cleaning supplies. The rays of sunshine came through the open windows, a breeze causing your nipples to perk up. You had been informed by Jeff it was Helen’s birthday and that you were the gift from the Slenderman mansion.

So you sat on the stool patiently, wrapped like a birthday present in all its glory.

The door opened slowly, a clean cut man presenting himself before you. He shut the door behind him, locking the old fashioned door with a key. His crisp blue eyes landed on you, examining you. “I must say you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m a bit envious that Trender didn’t find you first,” He admitted. He walked up to you slowly, his loafers clicking against the floor with every stride. “I’m Helen. I’ve been told by Jeffrey you’re my birthday present,” He said. Helen then stood before you, grabbing your chin with his gloved hand. His gloves were a borderline silk material and a pearly white, the material gentle against your skin. “I suppose I am,” You agreed. He tilted your head to the side, noting the faint hickies that stained your neck. “I see you get around,” Helen commented. If you weren’t aware he was a cold blooded killer, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

“Thats one way to put it,” You replied. Helen was truly studying you, soaking in every inch of your body he could see. “I must say Jeffrey spoiled me this year. You are quite the work of art,” He complimented. Helen guided your head to the other side, his eyes narrowing at the sight of finger shaped bruises wrapped around your throat. “I’ll tell you what. You seem to have quite a bit of fun. I won’t keep you. I’d rather have you kept on a canvas forever,” He concluded. The name ‘Bloody Painter’ was running through your head. Your face must’ve gone pale, a chuckle escaping Helen’s lips. “Relax my dear, all I want to do is watch and paint a portrait of you for my private viewing,” He said, releasing your chin. He could see your perky nipples poking through the sheet. Truthfully Helen was aching to touch you, but he did not believe he deserved the privilege of doing so. However, you putting on a show for him was the next best thing he could ask for.

“Take the sheet off for me and spread your legs darling,” Helen ordered. Although his tone was kind, his words sent an ominous chill down your spine. He may have presented himself as friendly and gentleman like, but you knew he lived here for a reason. You were a lot of things, but naive is not one of them. You allowed the sheet to fall to the ground, leaving you completely exposed in the sunlight. You spread your thighs, the man before you silently craving to fall to his knees and crawl towards you like a stray dog. Instead he straightened out his suit, walking over to his canvas. “Wonderful. Now i’ll give you specific instructions. If you follow them this transaction will be quite easy,” He said. He picked up a paint brush, dabbing it in a fresh cup of water to dampen the bristles. “Start touching yourself like you usually would,” Helen told you. You felt your face flush red. This was quite different than anything else you had done. Usually the men were apart of the action, but not Helen.

He wanted to memorize you. He watched as you licked the pad of your index and middle fingers, before bringing it down to your clit. Helen would’ve assumed it would be hard for you to become aroused, not having any source of pornography or physical touch. Yet you seemed as wet as a river, your cunt glistening in the sunlight. All from his observation. He began to paint you slightly, a choked groan escaping your throat as you swirled your clit. “Doesn’t this kinda ruin the painting?” You asked. Helen chuckled, painting your plump thighs first. “Quite the opposite. Your ethereal features deserve to be deserve to be praised again and again. What’s a better way to do so?” He countered. You whimpered at his words. His praise and will to let you have freedom, to control your orgasm. It was liberating. You began to draw faster circles around your clit, watching his eyebrows furrow as he painted your thigh crease. “Be a lamb and finger yourself for me,” He said mindlessly, as if he was commenting on the weather. You leaned back on one hand, the other dipping down between your folds and sliding into your entrance. You curled your fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to your own digits.

You let out a moan, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. “Nuh uh, look at me. Need to paint your eyes darling,” Helen ordered calmly, rinsing his paintbrush in the glass jar full of water. You whimpered as you maintained eye contact with his icy blue gaze. You tried to reach further into yourself to hit your g spot, your smaller fingers failing to do so. “Not deep enough,” You admitted, biting your bottom lip as he curiously peered over his canvas at you. “Not deep enough?” Helen repeated. You nodded, your fingers just grazing right before your g spot. Helen hummed to himself, before strolling over to one of his art shelves. He grabbed a paint brush with a thicker handle, walking back over to you. “Try this,” He suggested. His cock was aching against his black slacks, your doe eyes looking up at him. “W-what? But I don’t know where that’s been,” You say meekly. Helen grinned, handing it to you. “Everything in here is clean and pristine. I prepared for your arrival. Jeffrey spared me no details of his interaction with you. You can handle this. After all, it’s my birthday,” Helen mused. You took the paint brush, the dark green handle looking back at you. Helen whisked himself away back to his canvas, resuming what he was doing.

You removed your fingers, slowly lining the end of the paintbrush handle with your entrance. It felt cool and unusual, the sight making Helen’s pupils expand. “Thats it. You know what to do,” Helen grinned, flicking his wrist as he painted on his canvas. Your walls clung around the paintbrush handle, the handle just thick enough to feel satisfying. You groaned as it brushed against your g spot, your face burning from embarrassment. Helen didn’t understand your embarrassment, but he did soak in the red tint of your cheeks and begin to paint it onto the canvas. “Make as much noise as you’d like, the residents here have been expecting your arrival,” He cooed. You began to fuck the paint brush into you, your other hand gripping the wooden stool. You were so desperate to cum, it felt like you had been edging yourself for an eternity now, all for a painters amusement. “You can fuck yourself harder dear. You have no idea how badly I want to hear you cum for me,” Helen told you. You bit your bottom lip, fucking yourself faster. You could feel the knot inside of your stomach tighten, your body hooked on the feeling.

“Such a beautiful piece of art,” Helen mumbled to himself. His cock was straining against his slacks, dying for attention. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, but it becoming increasingly harder as your eyebrows scrunched together from your pending orgasm. You tilted your head back, sputtering a moan as you came around the paint brush. Admittedly you felt humiliated, but the wave of euphoria overrode the embarrassment. Helen was a gentleman if nothing else, allowing you to catch your breath before striding over to you. “Please get on your knees and stick out your tongue,” He ordered. Shakily you tossed the paint brush aside, gathering to your knees. The polished wooden floor was rough against your bare knees, but you were silently glad it didn’t prick at your skin and threaten to leave splinters. Helen began undoing his belt, the sight mouth watering. “Good dear, now just sit there and look pretty. You don’t have to do a thing,” He purred. You watched as he took out his cock, a little bead of precum decorating his tip. You went to touch it, Helen pushing your hand away. “Nuh uh. Stay still. Flatten out that tongue of yours,” He ordered firmly.

Obediently you set your hands on your knees, staring up at Helen. He took off his gloves with his teeth, tossing them aside before stroking his cock. He began to jack off in front of you, small grunts escaping his lips as he peered down at you. You were such a beautiful specimen, he couldn’t help but envy that Slenderman had found you first. In a different universe he was sure your body would’ve been used for far better, including becoming one of his works of art. Surely, he could make that happen in this one, right? All he needed to do was let go. You were dying to suck his cock, your wetness ever growing as he jacked off before you. He could feel himself growing closer to the edge. “When I release, you need to stay absolutely still, understand?” He questioned. You nodded, your tongue still flattened. Helen released with a groan, his seed releasing and splattering across your lips, tongue, and both cheeks. He peered down at you with his blue eyes, admiring his work. You truly were a masterpiece and perhaps the best birthday gift he had ever received.

[hyperballart]

perv!art thoughts…

it began the moment he saw you around campus for the first time; you’re one of tashi’s closest friends and roommate so he knows he’ll be spotting you more often. his heart is still sore from the loss of tashi’s number, so he figured you’d be a good temporary distraction, but the second you talk to him he knows that ‘temporary’ won’t be the case.

all interactions with you are somewhat fleeting; greeting exchanges and some small talk, but it hooks him in more and more. he starts cutting up pictures of you he finds from the school’s newspaper from the sports section you’re in and keeping them in a small box under his bed. in one instance, he’d taken a picture frame from your desk when he went over to lend tashi his phone charger when she lost her own — it was a picture of you with a friend back home at the beach. he studied the way that tiny bikini clung to your wet skin, the small arch in your back, and your sweet smile every night before bed.

he gets so unbelievably hard when his mind wanders to you — which is all the time. when patrick comes to visit tashi, the four of you gather in you and tashi’s dorm to hang out. he always sneaks off with one of your belongings, small enough that you thankfully don’t get too alarmed of — his recent acquisition had been one of your used athletic shorts. he knows he should’ve thought this through when he knocks on your door and you open wearing some of the tiniest jean shorts he’d ever seen.

“hi art!”

he snaps out of it and greets you with a flustered hey before making himself comfortable. patrick, tashi, art, and you sit on the floor sipping on cold beers from the mini fridge and making conversation. art keeps zoning out throughout the night — he stares at your bare legs and thighs. he stares between them more specifically, at the way the denim is tightening with every subtle move around your thighs, he wants to rip the fabric off and kiss the red marks left behind better. as if on cue, you start to speak.

“—i don’t know where all my shorts keep disappearing,” you giggle as you adjust the hem on the ones you’re wearing, “i think they have to add cameras in the laundry room, i haven’t worn this pair since high school — god.”

art gulps as tashi replies, “maybe it’s just you at this point, this is like the 20th time you’ve misplaced something.”

the night carries on, art chimes into the conversation every once in a while and he struggles to hide his boner in his pants. he feels himself twitch when you get up and bend over to retrieve another beer. his head turns fuzzy and he replies with a stiff nod when patrick asks if he’s good.

he needs to touch his dick soon, he knows he won’t last but it kills him to be this close to you without his hands on your skin. he muffles a whimper when you get on your hands and knees and reach across between patrick and tashi to change the radio station.

you’re almost flush against his chest, he sees the way your tank top lifts up and reveals your midriff and waist, the dip in your lower back when your back naturally arches. he casts his eyes lower and notices the way your tiny jean shorts slide down a bit and tease a hot pink lacy thong — this one must be new, he hasn’t seen it in your drawer before — and he feels sweat building at his temple.

“there,” you sit back down next to him again as a rock song comes on, “oh god i’m sorry art, i didn’t realize i was gonna be in your space like that.”

“it— it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he needs to leave now, “i actually have practice early tomorrow, i’m gonna go to bed.”

he says his goodbyes and you offer to walk him out, when you hug him he hopes you didn’t feel his erection. he quickly runs to his room.

he locks the door before plopping on his bed and immediately strips down. he spits on his tip and groans when he remembers the way you pouted when he announced his departure. he grips himself nice and hard — he bets you’ll be even tighter. he strokes himself upwards, base to head, and watches as more cum oozes from his slit. he sighs out your name as his eyes flutter shut and goes back to the way your thighs were bulging out of your shorts earlier.

“mmm, fuck,” he searches around under his pillow until he feels the stretchy fabric — your missing garment. he brings the crotch to his nose while his other hand frantically fucks his throbbing cock. he’s whining into it, the smell of you slightly lingering is enough to have him panting and really, really fucking close.

in his state of delirium he barely recognizes that he’s started licking and lapping at them, “tastes so fucking good, oh god, nnghh —“ he reaches down to his balls and squeezes them, wheezing out your name yet again as he glances to his bedside table where the picture of you in your bikini rests. he cums instantly in ropes that paint his chest.

[love-jelly]

THE VALIDATION.

sypnosis: precious, sweet choso would never ever deny you in any way, always opting to let you do whatever you wanted for your own entertainment and satisfaction, even if it includes giving you his heart and body.

contents: tutor!choso, sub!choso, dom!reader, pet names (choso: cutie, baby, bubs, darling, pretty prince, good boy | reader: mommy), dirty talk, hair pulling (m!receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex (does this even count idk), choso is desperate for some puthy (YOUR puthy), overstimulation (m!receiving), praise kink

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: based on this idea by @hotlinemurder ! tysm to maki for blessing my tl with this idea and i hope i did it justice !! hope u enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

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choso tutors you every wednesday and friday afternoon from twelve pm to two pm every other week in the university library. a timeline you both come up with to nicely accommodate both of your schedules- him with his studies and you with your parties and whatnot. not to say you don’t focus on school, you do, life’s just easier when you can ignore all the pending assignments that are due at 11:59pm and all the teachers that seemingly have it out for you.

but choso is sweet, unnecessarily so even when you try to quietly yawn at his rambling that seems to bounce off the walls of the study room you two rented. even when you start doodling in your notebook, when you’re supposed to be writing down what he’s trying to teach you. life is just more fun when you let go, something you’re sure choso doesn’t know how to do when you don’t show him how to.

choso is a straight-a student and tutor, teaching you topics better than any of your professors on the surface. but when you have him in the palm of your hand, with actions that are only a little suggestive? you’ll surely have him fucking you better than any of them too.

a few taps from the tip of a black pen on your notebook shakes you from your thoughts, choso gazing at you with concern evident in his eyes and a cute frown.

“you do know midterms are two weeks away, right?” the concerned lilt in his tone is cute but not cute enough for you to really care, knowing you would rather be doing anything else than studying calculus four.

you look up and smile apologetically, “sorry, cutie, but partial differentiation of functions is not on my mind right now.”

he blushes softly at the pet name but holds his ground, “but you didn’t come to any lecture last week. these questions are gonna be on the exam, you have to know them.”

you stand up, going behind him to undo the two buns he keeps atop his head, “‘s alright, i have you, don’t i?” the locks of hair unravel like a pretty present as you massage the mop around, evening the spread of his pretty brown hair.

“that’s why i’m trying to teach you right now but you won’t even listen,” he softly whines in slight protest, distracted by the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair.

“i have a better idea- don’t you wanna have fun?” you twist yourself onto his lap, thighs fitting atop his as you straddle him. you twist your hand into a fist to garner a hold of his hair, pulling it back to lift his head to expose his pretty wide eyes.

“b-but-” he stammers, moving his head to the side to avoid your eye contact, not sure what excuse to use. you roughly pull his hair again to force him to face you again, a mewl falling from his lips.

you cut him off with a soft voice, “you want me to stop?” you press chaste kisses to his jaw and throat, leaving an especially hard one on his adam’s apple, a soft sigh slipping out from his mouth.

he groans, unable to find an answer in his now-muddled brain. “please-”

precious, sweet choso would never ever deny you in any way, always opting to let you do whatever you wanted for your own entertainment and satisfaction, even if it includes giving you his heart and body.

“please what, baby?” you smile lightly, knowing he would always give into pleasure, give into you. 

“please make me cum,” his usual honeyed, deep voice is exchanged for a separate breathy, higher tone that’s reserved for your ears and your ears alone.

“all you had to say, bubs,” you lightly grind your core to his hardening, twitching cock, that seemingly was begging for some sort of stimulation that could help relieve the hot bubble that was forming in his lower belly.

something between a whine and a groan erupts from choso’s lips as you go in for another kiss, you swallowing up his sounds by connecting your lips.

“we’re in the library, darling. remember to be quiet, ‘kay?” you remind him with a sweet smile as if you weren’t the reason for his loud volume.

he whimpers, “s-sorry, mommy, please-” he chokes out, “c-can i put it in?”

you reach down and pull his cock out of his pants and give it a few jerks. “do you deserve it?”

choso scrunches his face in pleasure, eyes shut and lips wet with both his and your saliva. he manages to open his eyes a bit and breathe out, “yes- yes i do- please?” his brown orbs plead with you for stimulation- for pleasure- for mercy.

“put it in then, show me how desperate you are for me,” his fingers are fumbling around, pushing your skirt up and realizing you’re wearing his favorite lacy violet panties underneath, he groans quietly to himself admiring the wet spot on it for a second. set back on his prior mission, he pushes his cock into your panties, creating a large wet spot as he humps the scratchy material to find pleasure.

“my pretty prince, right? look at you, you just wanna get off, huh? i’ll let you use my pussy- so you better use it well.”

“thank- you, mommy,” he mewls softly before aligning himself with your hole. he quickly shoves it in- catching you off guard, forcing a hiss and moan from your lips that he quickly shuts up with a kiss that you dominate early on.

his hands have you in a vice-like grip that’s sure to leave bruises, holding you a few inches above his own body as his hips uncontrollably rut up into you, balls slapping on your buttcheeks.

“f-fuck- what would your parents say about this, huh? their p-precious little boy so desperate to cum inside of a woman?” you bite his earlobe, moaning directly into it, only serving to make choso’s dick impossibly harder.

“do-don’t-”

“don’t what, bubs? don’t tell your parents? but with how much you c-cum inside me, won’t we have to tell them when we have a b-baby?” you chortle in his ear, his face tinted red from embarrassment but still rutting up into you, desperately searching for release that feels so close with the way you’re clenching around him, still wanting to cum inside you as if it was his lifes goal.

“c-can’t- please- please let me cum inside.” he nearly sobs, his orgasm feeling like it’s approaching.

“don’t stop, don’t stop. you’re doing so so good for me, bubs. keep going- just a bit more, you’re almost there, baby,” you whisper into his ear, keenly aware of the effect your words have on him.

“please, please, please- let me-” 

“you wanna cum? you wanna cum in me? give your parents a grandbaby? you want that huh- you want your parents to know what a dirty whore you are for wet pussy- my wet pussy? come, come inside me.” your filthy words spill out of your mouth and into his flushed ear like whispers of an eternal bliss in hell.

a chain of “yes”s leave his lips in needy murmurs as he nears his climax. his thrusts into you become shorter and sloppier as you hug him closer, quieting your own moans by putting forth effort in marking up his neck.

a long, languid moan is ripped out from choso’s chest with his hips still rutting into you, albeit slower now, steadily fucking his cum into you, although his cock is still semi-hard. “let me- let me make you cum, please?”

you breathily laugh, “keep fucking me, baby, i’m almost there.”

choso continues his actions through strained movements, overstimulating himself, still roughly but quietly moaning through his own pain and pleasure. pulling you closer and staring at your pretty face filled with pleasure, he seems to be mesmerized by every feature on your face that contorts to prove that you were finding as much bliss in this as he is.

“fuck, i’m close, baby. gonna make me cum? make me cum,” choso quickens his pace, grunting in exertion. with a hand slapped over your mouth to hold back your shriek, you cum, spasming around his cock. fucking you through your orgasm, choso whines. he was so focused on making you cum that he didn’t realize he was nearing his second orgasm and with one last thrust into you, he spills a second load into you.

“good boy, choso. you did so well,” your validation makes him feel tingles all around his stomach, butterflies awakening in his stomach.

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if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: honestly i hate this n i felt like it was WAY too fast paced. BUT i promised a fic so here's one amidst my busy schedule :') life stop fucking me in the ass when :/ thank you for reading !!!

[pupyuj]

maybe some ghostface g!p wonyoung?🫣 fucking u with a knife pointed at ur neck oooh we love some extreme dubcon🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

i love love love scream sm and ghostface asks just make me giggle and kick my feet in the air YEAH IT’S WEIRD IDC BUT IT FUELS MY BRAIN SEND MORE 🤪 this is once again another drabble that might be disturbing/triggering for some so please read at your own risk!!

[cw: extreme dubcon, violence, brainwashing, manipulation, knife play, blood kink, murder 😭]

now hear me out… photographer!wony who has grown obsessed with amateur model!reader during your time together as colleagues.. you’re a fresh find in the industry, only having involved in a few small projects and you considered working w an acclaimed photographer like wonyoung such an honor! you practically worshipped her—studied her work through the hundreds of magazines she has worked on and you even keep up with her social media accounts bcs even the photos she takes on her phone are art! but truth to be told, wony wasn’t all too enthusiastic about working with a rookie but you were pretty enough that she sucked it up! plus, she was tired of all the bossy older, experienced models who always thought they knew better than the girl behind the camera 😒😒

wony being so pleasantly surprised with your talent that after the first time you worked together, she becomes very willing to work with you again! and again, and again.. until the two of you were eventually acquaintances, but that was also when wony starts getting… well, territorial over you 🫣 but she wasn’t stupid. she knew it wasn’t normal to want to gouge out the eyes of every man that looks at you for a second too long.. but wonyoung really can’t help it! 😣 you’re such a precious little gem that she just wants to lock you up in her basement and make herself the only person to ever set eyes on you…

getting comfortable around wony to the point that you allow her to be in a changing room with you as you dress up for a photoshoot,, asking her if you look pretty and never once catching that dark look in her eyes or the way she licks her lips as she thinks about all the things she wants to do to you… ugh, she gets so hard just looking at you in your pretty little outfits.. sometimes it comes to the point where she pretends to fix something in the outfit just so she can be close to you and inhale your perfume… as well as press her bulge against your ass.. even though you pretend not to notice it, wonyoung always takes note of how your breath hitches and how you move closer to her slightly,, fuck every time there’s a break, wony has to run to the washrooms to jerk off bcs the feeling was sometimes overwhelming.. but gosh, did it all feel good 😵‍💫😵‍💫

it wasn’t until you start gaining more and more attention that wonyoung loses her head though.. she goes on a killing spree in a ridiculous fucking costume, mercilessly taking the life of those that thought they could ever take you from her.. you were the one who noticed the odd pattern: all of those that this ‘ghostface’ killed has interacted with you at least once.. and more than half of them have tried to woo you, so in a sense, this ‘ghostface’ would be protecting you in a really messed up way but you had no idea who would do such a thing for you 🫣🫣 unfortunately wonyoung fucks up one day; after one of her kills, you come over to her home for a quick rundown of another one of your projects together.. and while the two of you sat on her bed, that was when you saw a piece of the dark cloak ‘ghostface’ always wore stuffed haphazardly in wonyoung’s closet.. and then you just noticed the little droplets of blood on the carpet floor.. so dark and have clearly been there for a while…

wonyoung had already noticed that you already pieced it together and made her move before you can say or do or think anything—“not a word, little mouse.” and then you feel it: cold steel. the side of a knife being pressed flat against your neck, the sharp edge being so dangerously close to your collarbone.

no bcs?? you can’t tell me wony wouldn’t find pleasure in your reaction when she lists down all the suitors she has killed.. something in her sick, twisted mind dances happily every time the fear in your eyes gets bigger and stronger, you were practically frozen on her bed as you listened to the exact ways wonyoung murdered her victims.. some of them were close coworkers, acquaintances, friends. and gosh, ofc wony takes this opportunity to finally get her hands on you! 🤭 sitting there while her one free hand explores your body :(( squeezing your breasts, gliding down from your stomach all the way to your core.. “you’re wet? you’re a little freak, aren’t you..? getting turned on despite being touched by a murderer??”

having no choice but to follow her every command :(( laying down all comfortably in her bed, crying silently while wonyoung takes her sweet time taking her clothes off before mounting you, her bare cock dangerously close to your clothed entrance.. “not gonna try and run? smart girl. i wouldn’t want to kill you.. i love you, (y/n)… you can’t let me do that.. so be good.” her kisses were sweet and soft and for a second, you thought that even if she fucks you against your will, maybe she’ll be gentle.. but you were dumber than you actually looked bcs the second you let your guard down, wonyoung creates a small cut on your collarbone and quickly licks it.. practically moaning at your wincing and how you blood tasted eugh she was so freaky! 😭

also, she would be laughing while you struggled against her?? being so scared that she’ll hurt you again you actually try to break free of her hold and shit but she’s just cackling while you thrash underneath her.. feeling so, so weak while she cuts your clothes up.. she’s giggling and everything! so excited to finally see you naked and touch that delicate skin of yours.. and it rlly takes her all of her willpower to not just cut you up and see just how beautiful you’d look with blood all over you 😰😰 you’d beg and beg for her not to hurt you, feeling the cold metal of the knife against your neck as you cry and plead to wonyoung who was rlly just having the time of her life… but things were weird! she has violated you, hurt you, literally killed people you’ve come to know… and you find her so attractive with her face all scrunched up and her head thrown back while she rocks her hips and rams her cock inside you…

at some point you even wrapped your arms around her waist bcs it felt so good 😵‍💫 you forgot that you were fucking with a murderer and could only think of the wonyoung you knew from before… jang wonyoung, your role model.. and well, suffice to say that was enough for you to agree to everything that she was saying to you and have her cum inside you 🥴 and it wouldn’t even stop there! with or without your consent, wony would be fucking you all night! just in case something happens that would separate the two of you after this night..

ya’ll can’t tell me that she wouldn’t try to manipulate you even more after that day! 🫣 scaring you into not saying a peep about her identity, threatening your career and your whole fucking life if you even think of going to the police.. ofc she was successful! and yes she still continues to be ghostface ofc 🫢 every time someone hits on you while wonyoung was around, your heart would sink low to your stomach knowing she was going to get rid of them.. but not after reminding you who you belong to in an empty changing room 🤭🤭 would also love to think that she would be fucked in the head enough to mold you into her little sidekick?? telling you about her ghostface ways and feeling immensely proud when you claim your first kill who happens to be another model who was way too interested in your wonyoung-nim! 😣

wonyoung would only be completely satisfied after she has turned her favorite doll into a cute little puppet 🤭

[shaisuki]

Could I request Kaiser with reader. The two of them are partners for a project when he offers her a brownie he made, (one that he drugged), she was hesitant but took it, once she felt a little intoxicated, he took advantage of her, despite her trying to push him off, her state made her weaker and unable to push him off as he did what he wanted with her. At the end, he blackmailed her with the recording he took of him taking advantage of her

contested cravings

PAIRING. MICHAEL KAISER X CHUBBY READER

CONTENT WARNINGS. noncon + drugging, nonconsensual recording + groping and touching + kissing + blackmail + sabotage + penetrative sex + manipulation + cunnilingus.

SYNOPSIS. michael's is the bad news with his good looks and talent and the reason why you avoided him.

class projects aren't bad not until you're paired with michael kaiser. the school's star athlete and the resident asshole if you must add. have a bad habit of belittling others that pisses most of the whole student body and only hangs out with alexis ness. whom may have developed an unhealthy obsession with the school's golden boy. following him like a lost pup and would skedaddle if kaiser shooed him off.

you found the dynamic between them unsettling and how could ness accepted being treated like that. you guess is just how they express their feeling or to make the other feel good about themselves and you kind of really don't care, not when michael is your partner. his blonde hair is streaked with baby blue highlights on the tips and that haircut that suits him.

you instantly averted your gaze when you see him walking towards you and pretends that you didn't notice him. feigning interest in a book that you have read over and over.

“at my place?” he asks, smoothing his blonde locks. “s-sure.” you answered him. a little worriedly than you have liked and it looks like you were hesitant and regretting your action towards him.

michael paid it no mind. people acted around him like he was a real total assholes and he is and you were no different from the reactions people have shown him. he just gave you a smile and left you to your own devices.

of course, he have a room for himself. he's the school's star athlete and it comes with privilege including personal spaces. you texted him earlier and there he is. opening his door for you to come in. you gave him a curt greeting. “can we start now?” you asked him. the sooner this project is done the better. you really don't want to be alone with michael. “does my presence annoys you that much?” he smirks, eyeing you in such lazy manner that your eyes widen at what he was saying. kaiser chuckles at your reaction. “just kidding. don't want to waste more than time. make yourself comfortable then.” pointing at his work table. the books and papers and pens are neatly arranged. you didn't took him to be the studious type regarding how he acts in the general but you have judged him too early and mentally slapped yourself for thinking that way and you were still suspicious that he is too polite to you.

“what?” pursing your lips in thin line. you shaked your head. “nothing, michael.” he ignores you and sat beside you. already grabbing the needed materials and you both began in silence.

working with michael isn't so bad. he wasn't his usual asshole self who picks fight at school and insults someone for how they look and their skill. michael's behavior placed you in a dangerous situation with him and interactions with him meant to break what little self-confidence you have. opposite he was. he was so good at following up instructions and have studied in advance. it looks like it was better that you should both have split the workload.

“oh i forgot, i would be a bad host if i didn't you offer you some food. i've gotten brownies in that newly opened bakery.” he said, taking off his round glasses he was wearing while you both worked. michael screams like he comes from old money from how he acts and it was totally out of character for him to offer you some refreshments.

he placed a tray of food in the table. consisting of various sweet treats and some drinks. “pick what you want, sweets.” the nickname made you cringed cause michael is really acting nice to you. something's very off at this whole situation. looking at the assortment of sweets in the tray. you hesitated but the look michael is giving you told you otherwise. so you grabbed one and took a bite. “good choice.” he praises you before grabbing a treat for himself.

the brownie's good. the chocolatey goodness melting in your mouth, bursting with flavor. you hum in delight to show your appreciation for the good food and michael nods. smiling a bit and slowly chews. you just only ate one. afraid that he'll comment something and you would rather die than have him say something. it took awhile before you both decided to pick up what's left of the work.

strangely, you have never been feeling so lightheaded before followed by a strange pounding on your head. you grasp the pencil you were holding and it only rolls away from you. you try grabbing it again and it feels like you were holding air. “is something wrong, (y/n)?” you follow the sound of the direction of the voice. why was kaiser is blurry to your vision. did h-he? you were unable to finish your muddled thoughts and even in such state you feel his lips to yours.

your lips is what he imagined to be. soft and plump with the right touch of sweetness. thanks to the brownies. heh. it wasn't really he brought. he put an effort to it just to have what's in front of him. the drug that ness brought him did work just like how he wanted it. you were still conscious and a bit aware of everything but is unable to do anything but he is quite surprised that you were still able to move a bit even it was just an attempt to push him off.

“i can't have you pushing me. i really worked for this.” is what you heard before you are being pushed slowly in his bed.

when you laid there in his bed. michael admires you like he was a painter of his greatest masterpiece. looking like some baroque period painting coming to life while your body's is temporarily incapacitated. his efforts have bore results and he's about to sow.

he begins to strip you. quite annoyed from the layers of clothing you wore. he knows it was fully intentional. not wanting to be called a slut nor a prude by him. he knows his harsh and he likes people when they cry and you were no exception of it. he could have bullied you. break you and pull you apart until you were left nothing but michael withstood all the desires of it cause he wanted you like this. helpless and needing of him.

his palms slowly glides through the expanse of skin. you were the definition of what he deemed perfection in his eyes. your perfectly fit in his and he was about to mold you from his very own hands. he can see the tears pricking in your eyes. glistening as you helplessly watch him defile you.

kaiser never liked giving and receiving. he only takes but what's between your legs leaves him hungry for it. the plushness of your fat pussy drooling with slick is enough to drive him crazy so he did what he did. giving your fat pussy a lick and he was hooked immediately. he continued to devour your pussy until he was satisfied besides his cock is really needing some relief and it was painful. he just found the right place to stick it on.

it was only the tiniest of moans and gasps coming from you but he sure enjoyed it. a symphony being composed and is a music to his hears he won't get tired of listening to. he grabbed and bite whatever his hands and mouth can get to. you were so fucking supple and divine. fitting for an emperor like him. the way your body jiggles and ripples with his very thrusts leaving him grunting and growling for more. your fat pussy is deliciously wrapped around his fat cock that it leaves a drooling mess to your cunt. he already has cummed many times and it squelches with every thrust along with your pussy. his cum being deposited inside of you.

michael glances at the clock. the night is still young and he was going savor all of it until the morning comes. he continues to assault your abused cunt. smiling to himself at the direction of where his phone is currently placed. he needs to commemorate this special occasion.

you were sore. your body screaming in pain while you grab the pieces of your clothing besides you. the tears uncontrollably running down your cheeks while you scramble to get your things and leave this hell hole that was michael's room. “why are you crying?” he asks, sipping a cup of coffee. dressed in his robe and his reading glasses resting in the tip of his nose. “fuck you, michael.” you seethed at the blonde. michael chuckles. “strong words coming from you.” he added.

you were about to grab the last belonging of yours before he interrupts you. “i believe you have a favor to ask me.” your eyes widens. he shows you a video of him repeatedly fucking you. putting you in different positions. “don't you dare, michael.” you warned him. “you fucking raped me, you son of a bitch.” michael didn't really like the tone of your voice and it just triggered something to him. he stands up and made his way to you. grasping your soft jaw in a tight manner. he forces a smile. “oh, i really am.” he taunts you. his blue eyes is filled with storm inside them. “defy me and you're getting this video leaked.”

“what the fuck you want?”

“watch your tone.” he warns before smiling.

“be mine and i'll let this thing disappear like it didn't happen.”

“fuck no.”

“oh really, such a shame. you were enjoying it. see?” he really made it look like you were having the best night of your life. he wipes the tears on your round cheeks.

“good.” he whispers. seeing the look in your face and it left him triumphant.

“don't leave. we really ain't done. i am still starting to enjoy it.”

[rubywithecat]

When u try to turn them on (JJK men)

<<T/W: Minors do not interact as some mature contents are included>>

Gojo Satoru

You made a bet with ur friends that if u can make ur professor, Gojo, kiss u, they have to buy u concert ticket. U first showed up with revealing shirt to the class, catching him starring. And when everyone leave after lecture, u stayed with him to ask him about assignment, pretending u don’t understand certain parts. He just gave a smirked as he looks like he know ur intention but he played along, explaining the lesson.

U gazed at his pretty mouths and fck he’s so hot and u wanted to kiss him so bad, with or without bet. “Can’t focus huh?” He smiled and touched your face. You caught off guard by it. “Do u think I’m a fool as I can see your brat friends peeking from the door” he said. Ur eyes widened as he laughed softly, hands grabbing you closer. Who would think u would get a full make out session when u just wanted a kiss. But it’s worth it anyway. “U owe me one, angel” he said after that, winking.

Toji Fushiguro

U hated him as he’s your stepdad. U didn’t wanna share ur mum with anyone except ur dad. But ur dad passed away years ago sadly and here u are stuck with your stepdad in the house. Toji isn’t the man that is bad looking and even so, he looks so hot! But it’s doesn’t changed ur hatred. So, u decided to make him feel uncomfortable. When he was watching TV in the living room, u purposely dropped the remote and squatted to pick it up right in front of him. U could feel his gazes on ur hips.

U smirked, feeling satisfied as he walked away from the couch and went to his bedroom. “Serve u right” u muttered. And yelled loudly from ur room as if u are in video call with ur bf, doing 18+. “OmG! I’m gonna c*m! Ur so good!”

U laughed in victory when u head Toji slammed the door but what u didn’t expect was he’s coming to ur room. Sh*t u forgot to lock the door.

U rushed to lock there but it was too late as he is already in front of u. “What are u doing here?!” U shouted. “To teach u how to be a good girl” he smirked.

Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna is ur bestfriend yuuji’s elder brother. Whenever u go his home, u feel excited just seeing him. U know he has a reputation of being a womanizer but can’t help having a crush on him. Yuuji complained how he has to dealt with noises from his brother room and u kinda get jealous just with the thought of him with other women. U wished it was u whoever gets the chance to get his attention, u thought they were lucky.

One day when u went to Yuuji house to study togther, u didn’t expected to be opened the door by Sukuna. He never look at u in the way u wanted. U r just like a lil sis to him u thought. “Hi…umm…is yuuji there? We are studying for coming test…” u awkwardly told him. “Yuuji hasn’t come back home, said he will be late with traffic jam” he said as he lighted his cigarette. “Why don’t u come in?” He said as he looked at u. U were so nervous. “Do u not trust me?” He said as he raised his eyebrows. “No— it’s not like that” u laughed in awkwardness and made ur way into the house.

U sat on the couch and he said next to u, grabbing his drink. “U want some?” He asked and at first u we’re gonna reject but u are already in bad mood, having bad day at school so u accepted his offer. As u have drunk much and felt high, he felt more courage to seduce him.

“Do u have a type Sukuna?” U asked him. He looked at u for sec and giggled. “U wanna know huh?” He asked. U became a lil playful and suddenly touching his lap and bit your lips. “Yea” u whispered into his ears which surprisingly turned him on. He would be lying if he said he has never thought of sleeping with u. In truth, he has been desperate for u too since u have been hanging out with his brother. He would imagine of u when he is fcking one night stand and he could never c*m as they weren’t u.

He get mad sometimes at how u could control him so he avoid u as much as he can to forget about u but u kept showing in sight of him.

The tension between u two is so intended and it ended with just a passionate kiss when yuuji came back home. “Meet me in the car after ur lil study section with my stupid bro” he smirked as he got up from his couch, greeting Yuuji.

Nanami Kento

Ur boyfriend has been really busy with his works lately. So u got an idea of punishing him and make him desperately want u by sending ur n*de pics to him.

He opened the message as he saw it’s from u and the meeting was 5 min away to start. He almost dropped his phone when he saw ur sl*tty picture. He covered his phone protectively in case someone taking a peek.

As the meeting continues, he can’t focus on what his employees saying and his thoughts are just on u. He dismissed the meeting earlier than the actual time and drove fast to home where u were waiting for him with a red lingerie on u, smiling at him innocently. “U have been really a bad girl and u know that right?” He said as he chuckled. Then he gently patted ur hair but slowly moving his hands to ur neck and suddenly pushed u to the bed aggressively. I will treat u as bad as the brat u are” he said, smirking as he make u bent down on your knee.

Hope u enjoy! Likes and shares and comments would be really helpful <3 Thanks!

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 – GAVI

warnings. p in v sex, public s3x (there’s no one around), jealous!gavi, & an annoying teammate

summary. academic rival!gavi makes sure you only have room for one nerd in your life

a/n. part two of comfort zone. tysm for the idea @gavisuntiedboot 🫶🏽

the sound of your professor’s voice filled the room as he explained your next assignment. you simultaneously put away your notes and listened carefully as this next project would be worth twenty percent of your grade. you were already laying out the details of your work as the professor continued to describe the assignment.

“there is one twist to this project. you’ll be working with a partner.” his words made you freeze. “and before you ask yes i will be choosing your partner for you.”

the room was filled with groans at his last comment, many of your classmates upset that they wouldn’t be working with their friends. meanwhile your eyes searched the room until they locked with a certain brunette. gavi had been looking forward to asking you to be his partner and now he was simply hoping the professor had decided to put you two together.

“mrs. y/l/n and mr. moretti you’ll be working together.” your professor says as he crushes gavi’s hopes and dreams.

franco moretti had arrived last semester from turin when his father took over as head of the marketing department for sevilla fc. he was also the teammate gavi despised the most due to them playing in the same position and because he would always insult him in words he didn’t understand. you scan the room to search for the argentine spotting him all the way at the end of the room looking at something else on his laptop. you sigh in frustration wondering if this project would be the reason your grade goes down.

as soon as class ends you make your way towards the blonde hoping to introduce yourself and get the project over with. he instantly notices you offering you one of his flirty smirks.

“bueno…” he starts. “we’re partners right?”

“uh, yeah. i just came to introduce myself-”

“i know who you are.” he interrupts you. “well i only know you’re like the smartest kid in our class.”

“i wouldn’t say that.” your cheeks heat up at his words.

“no need to be humble. your face along with his-” he points towards gavi. “is plastered all over the school. i’ve got to say i am very impressed by how you manage to do sports and somehow maintain your grades so high at the same time. but you probably just want to talk about our project.”

“uhm, thank you?” you can’t help but laugh at the interaction. “oh, yeah. i just wanted to ask if you have any certain topics you want to make our project about?”

“well i’ve got to get to practice in like five minutes or else coach will make me run five miles around the whole school. do you maybe want to meet up at the library later to discuss it? say around four?” he says as he packs up this things.

“yeah, that’s fine. i’ll see you there.” you smile awkwardly not sure if you should look forward to seeing him later or not.

you stay behind a couple of minutes going over some of your notes with the professor making sure you got everything right. you couldn’t afford to risk your spot in the rankings for a small error. grabbing your stuff you make way towards the library hoping to get some free time to study for your next psych exam before meeting up with franco. although, you don’t expect to find gavi waiting for you outside the door.

“he totally thinks you’re hot.” he simply blurts out.

“nice to see you too pablo.” you say sarcastically. “why are you blessing me with your presence today?”

“i bless you with my presence everyday.” he says as he begins following you to wherever it is you’re going. “so, you and franco…”

“me and franco aren’t even friends if that’s what you’re wondering.” you roll your eyes. “why do you even hate him so much?”

“i don’t hate him.” you simply stare at him. “okay maybe i do just a little but it’s reasonable.”

“you hate him because his dad works for sevilla and he’s slowly climbing up through the rankings. i’m not sure i would call that reasonable.” you say as you open the doors to the library. you’re grateful there’s barely anyone in there, you don’t enjoy being around large groups.

“whatever.” he huffs. “do you think he’s cute?”

you pause in your tracks turning towards gavi. the top button of his dress shirt unbuttoned and his red tie on the verge of coming loose. he looked quite good and a part of you just wanted to go home already.

“are you jealous pablito?” you tease him.

“me? jealous of a benchwarmer? please. not only am i better than him athletically but also academically. there’s no reason for me to be jealous.” he scoffs at the ridiculous idea.

“okay so you won’t have a problem with me studying with him later in here right? you totally didn’t follow me to the library just to make sure i didn’t find him attractive right?” you ask him as you press the button on the wall to get an elevator. you loved that each floor was dedicated to a different genre of books.

“why would i have a problem? i’m the only one making you cum anyways.” his words catch you off guard. you look around making sure no one else has heard him.

“pablo!” you hit his chest and you expect him to just laugh but he only stares at you. his eyes darker than before. he pulls you towards the end of the nonfiction section where there’s barely any light and a bunch of books that haven’t been read in years. how romantic.

“but maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll spread your legs for him. give him a good view and everything.” he drags his hand to the middle of your legs opening up your legs.

you can feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand from your thighs to your core teasing you. you completely forget where you are as he leaves love bites all over your neck. the pleasure intensifying as teases you by running his hands along your core but not getting them under your panties to touch you.

“and maybe he’ll hear those sinful noises you make as he drags his fingers along your folds.” you whine as pablo spreads your wetness around your folds with his fingers.

“but maybe you’ll be desperate to have him inside you to feel full again. so you’ll simply move these to the side.” he moves your panties to the side giving him full access to your dripping core. “and take him in you like the good girl you are.”

you help him undo his belt eager to have him fuck you already. his button down shirt losing some of its buttons in the process. the two of you so needy to finally come together like a puzzle to care about what happens next. he finally manages to pull out his hard aching dick out and he doesn’t waste another minute as he brings it to your needy hole.

“and then he’ll drag it along your folds teasing you even more. but after a couple of minutes he begins to insert himself until he fills you- oh fuck.” he groans as he enters you. “and your walls squeeze him as he pleasures you.”

“please pablo.” you beg him as one of your hands digs into his soft brown hair and the other into his shoulder at the feeling of his slow sensual thrusts.

“please what princess?” his voice sounds so out of breathe.

“faster please. fuck.” his length hits you in spots you didn’t know were possible. you can barely contain your moans and pablo simply hopes you get louder.

then you hear it the sound of the elevator doors opening for the end of the long hallway. you think you’re imagining it at first since pablo doesn’t notice it kissing you as he fucks you dumb. then you hear the loud footsteps and you panic they’re heading right towards the two of you.

“pablo. there’s someone here.” he can barely comprehend a word you’re saying as he watches how you take him so well. almost like your pussy was made just for him.

“pablo stop.” then he listens scared he crossed some boundaries and hurt you. he immediately steps away from you the two of you groaning at the loss of contact.

“fuck sorry. are you okay? did i-”

“no, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s okay. there’s someone here though. get dressed.” you say as you fix your hair and skirt.

meanwhile pablo isn’t so lucky and he can hardly button his pants when franco himself shows up. the argentine tries hardest to stop himself from laughing at his teammate but he barely can as he looks at pablo’s disheveled hair. although, you look perfectly fine so he tries to figure out why pablo looks so messy.

“bro you look like you got dressed in the dark what happened?” franco stifles a laugh.

“caught him getting frisky with one of the librarians.” you blurt out wanting to tease him.

“no way? but they’re all over thirty- oh don’t tell me you’re into milfs. kinky shit bro.” franco somehow believes your lie.

“fuck you.” gavi directs at you before being invaded by his teammate with more questions.

the next couple of minutes gavi tries his best to get his teammate to shut up and convince him that you were lying. that he simply had fallen asleep during class because he’d already studied the topic at home which was quite believable. the three of you chatted before gavi had to make his way towards the field to make up for missing practice earlier. although he spends all five miles grinning like a little shit because he’d be willing to run them all over again as long as it meant getting franco the furthest away from you. he was hoping you’d only have time for one academically gifted athlete.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It Prequel | Jungkook's Point of View

Summary: Jungkook fell first but when exactly did he fall? Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6k~ Warnings: Not suggestive language but something hinting at sexual activities lmao you'll see a/n: So I got this request a while ago but I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted it to go but I hope you guys like it! Barely edited per usual but again I would just prefer to get it out lmao (lemme know if you want a full prequel in the reader's pov 👀) Drabble requested by @turn02 💜 (sorry it took so long but hopefully it answered your questions)

"You're home early!" I say watching as Jina walks inside but she has another girl trailing in behind her that I've never seen before.

"Yeah they cancelled class and so I invited y/n to come over and study instead" she says, letting this girl I now know to be y/n pass by.

She looks back to watch Jina lock the door and then turns back towards the house, her jaw dropping from seeing the sheer size of it.

I chuckle from her cute reaction but compose myself once her eyes land on me. "Dad this is y/n, y/n this is my dad" Jina says, walking her over to say hi.

"You have a beautiful home Mr. Jeon" she says and the melodic sound of her voice makes me hum unconsciously in delight before clearing my throat to respond.

"Thank you darling I appreciate that. Please make yourself at home and you girls let me know if you need anything" I say, glancing over at Jina for a second before my vision focuses back on y/n.

"Fell free to call me Jungkook if you'd like, there's no need to be so formal with me" I say, lowering my voice slightly towards the end making her eyes widen slightly, nodding her head before responding.

"Thank you Mr. Jeon um- sorry I mean Jungkook" she stumbles over her words which makes her seem even more adorable than she already is.

Jina's eyes ping pong between the two of us before letting out a big sigh and pulling on her arm to drag her upstairs. "Come on, let's go study in my room" she groans and y/n stumbles for a bit before looking back over towards me.

"Thank you again!" she says quickly and I smile at her and give her a slight nod, enjoying watching her slightly panicked nature.

"Have fun you two!" I call after them and watch until Jina shuts her door behind them.

I chuckle to myself thinking about our little interaction, mumbling 'cute' under my breath before continuing onto my intended route to the kitchen.

I hope I'll get to see more of her, she seems like she would be a good influence on Jina and I'm quiet fond of her already.

~~~~~~

"Dad y/n's leaving" I hear Jina call out from where I am in my study and I make my way out to bid farewell.

"It was nice to meet you Mr. Jeon" she says politely and I raise a brow slightly making her stumble to change it again. "I mean Jungkook. Thank you for letting me come over" she continues as she stands near the door.

"Of course darling, come back anytime" I say and Jina clears her throat before any other words can be said and opens the door wide, waiting for y/n to make her way out.

"I'll walk you to you out" Jina says and y/n waves awkwardly while walking out, turning back only for a moment and catching my glance before Jina closes the door behind them.

A couple moments later I hear a car engine turn over which I assume is hers and the soft rumble of it trails off until my attention is turned back towards Jina walking through the door and slamming it behind her.

"I may have money to pay for damages young lady but you don't" I say, crossing my arms over my chest but she rolls her eyes in response.

"Why were you being so weird today?" she asks, mirroring my posture and cocking a brow at me. She really is my daughter isn't she.

"I don't know what you're talking about" I say, turning around and walking to the kitchen to start making dinner with her trudging behind me, taking a seat at the island in the middle of it.

"Dad" she whines and I know it's best to just wrap this conversation up than drag it out.

"Jina I was just being friendly. I do admit I found her to be quite adorable but I know she's your friend so you have nothing to worry about" I say, turning back towards her and making sure she knows that I truly mean it.

"Good! She has a boyfriend anyways" she says once I've turned back around and it takes everything in me to not show how tense that's made me. I may not go for her but the thought of other men around her already bothers me.

"Noted" I mumble under my breath and as soon as I place a pot on the stovetop to start boiling water for pasta she's already complaining.

"Can we get pizza instead? I've been craving it for like the past three days" I take a deep breath and decide to give in since I did kinda sorta flirted with her friend.

"Pepperoni alright?" I say while placing that pot back in it's home. "Yes please!" she says and jumps off the stool and runs upstairs.

~~~~~~~

Two years later at y/n's birthday getaway

"You guys headed headed off to the beach?" I question, looking up and seeing the three of them dressed in their swimsuits with Jared carrying the beach bag.

"Yeah actually do you think you could take a picture of us? I wanna make sure to get some nice pictures since it's y/n's birthday trip" Jina says and Jared whispers something in y/n's ear making her laugh but I can tell it's not genuine. Something's wrong.

"Sure" I say, getting off the couch and follow them outside, grabbing Jina's phone when they've found a good spot so they can take it with the ocean in the background.

"Alright one, two, three" I say, counting down and taking a few landscape and portrait pictures but clench my jaw once I've seen how Jared is sliding his hand further and further down y/n's waist until it's on her ass.

She stiffens once he's chanced squeezing it and calls it, ending our little photo shoot. 

She pries Jared's hand off her and turns around to go back in the house saying something along the lines that she needed to go grab something. As she walks past me I can see how flushed her cheeks are but not in a good way, bewilderment written all over her face and I follow her inside after having given Jina her phone back, making sure to glare at Jared before I do.

He scoffs at me before walking over to Jina where she's checking out the pictures and picking the best one. His demeanor noticeably shifts to an irritated once he sees his girlfriend's reactions to his not so subtle touches. Scoffing and no doubt cursing her for being such a prude in his eyes.

I walk over to where she has her hands gripping the sink, her back facing me and her shoulders tensed. I would kill him if I could, seeing how upset he's made her again.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, full well knowing it's not and noticing that she's put some sort of wrap around her waist. No doubt in an effort to cover up this sorry excuse for swimwear.

She takes in a deep breath, nodding and wiping off the tears that had started to prickle in the corner of her eyes, clearing her throat before responding.

"Yeah everything's totally fine just wanted to grab some water bottles before we head out" she says, opening the fridge next to her and grabbing a few.

I decide to not push the subject further so I don't make her even more uncomfortable than she already is, remembering to keep an eye on Jared instead. 

"Do you know what you'd like to eat tonight? I can book a reservation if you'd like" I offer, changing the subject and hopefully getting her mind off of what just happened. "Would you mind making something? You know I really love your cooking" she says, turning around to face me while placing the waters on the island that separates us. 

She looks up at me but quickly turns her eyes back down to the bottles, shy from making such an adorable request. "Sure darling, what would you like?" I question and I can see the wheels turning in her head trying to narrow it down to one thing. 

"Surprise me?" she finally says, looking up at me with a slight blush on her face and it takes every fiber of my being to hold myself back from kissing her, or worse, having her on her knees looking up at me with that oh so innocent expression. 

I clear my throat after having left too much of a lull in the conversation and acquiesce her request. "I'll have it ready at eight" I respond and she brightens up at my answer, nodding her head before grabbing the water bottles and runs out the backdoor to the beach. 

"Thank you Mr. Jeon!" she says excitedly and when watch her go she turns around and gives me a bit of a smile again. "I mean, Jungkook" she teases and laughs when she sees me cock a brow at her after the words have left her mouth. 

She's really testing my willpower these days but the worst thing is is that she has absolutely no clue. 

~~~~

Two years later...

"Dad I'm home and y/n's here too" I hear Jina call out and smile to myself before leaving my office and walk out to greet them. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I question but I know the answer. "Because I'm your daughter. Do I really have to warn you or did you not want me here?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest as I do the same, throwing the fault on me. 

I watch her for a few seconds while y/n closes the door behind her and takes off her shoes with one thing in particular catching my eye. 

"Did I miss something?" I ask, looking from one to the other. "What do you mean?" y/n asks, looking confused as ever. "Anything new happen?" I try, seeing if rephrasing the question will clue her in but it doesn't work. 

"The ring y/n" Jina says and y/n's eyes widen. "Oh! Yeah um, Jared proposed last week" she says, holding out her hand and showing me the ring with a pitiful excuse for a diamond on top. "Wow, congratulations" I say, grabbing onto her hand and mustering as much sincerity as I possibly can, knowing that things aren't turning out the way that I thought they would.

"I was kinda surprised since we hadn't really spoken about marriage but I guess he's ready for that next big step" she says nervously and I nod my head. "Are you ready?" I chance and she looks at me with a confused expression. "Excuse me?" she asks, clearly wanting to know the reasoning behind why I would ask that.

"Are you ready to take that next big step in your relationship? I mean you're both so young and freshly graduated" I start off and she tilts her head, still not sure as to why I would be worried about something like this. 

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into doing this so soon" I say softly and she nods her head and looks down, letting me know that I've tapped into something that she's been struggling with. "Just take time to think about it. You've got your whole life ahead of you" I say, squeezing her hand and she squeezes it back, taking me by surprise but I welcome it nonetheless. 

"So next order of business" Jina changing the subject, making me let go of y/n's hand, forgetting that Jina had been standing there this whole time. "I told y/n that I would ask you if we could hold her engagement party here. So can we?" she questions, her mood somewhat off today but I pay no mind and agree to it for y/n's sake. 

"Sure, anything you need" I respond, looking straight at her and seeing her demeanor is very much still drooping from the words I said just moments ago. "Great I'll start planning things out and get the ball rolling" Jina says and leaves y/n and I standing there as she wanders around the house. 

"I hope I didn't overstep" I start out and she shakes her head and looks up at me. "No you didn't I've just been asking myself the same thing" she admits exactly what I had seen written all over her body language. 

"I know you guys have been together ever since I met you but remember, quantity of time doesn't necessarily equal quality of time" I say and place a hand on her shoulder before turning to go. 

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll just be in my office" I say and make a quick escape while she mutters a soft 'okay' in response. 

'She's actually gonna marry him? Him? You've got to be joking. Dating him is bad enough but I thought he was just gonna be some trashy college boyfriend that she would eventually break up with. What about him is even worth marrying?' I ask myself, pacing back and forth in my office while I try to burn off some steam to keep the anger that's bubbling inside of me at bay.

~~~~

Going round and round in my head, trying to find a reason as to why she would be doing this I come up with a total of zero, or at least none that makes sense enough to want to commit to spending your life with someone like him. 

Who would want to marry a man like that?

A man who lusts over you but swears he loves you. A man who pushes your clear boundaries and makes you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. A man that touches you inappropriately in public when you've told him to stop. 

Over the last four years I've known them I've noticed that she acts more uncomfortable when he's around. She's so much more vibrant and carefree when she's here on her own so why would she she ever want to be with someone that takes away from that? I just don't understand it and I never will. 

The real question is, why am I obsessing over this? 

Yes she's adorable, that's something that I've thought from the beginning though. She's also insanely attractive, seeing how grown up she looks now going from a shy little second year college student to being two years post graduation with a good head on her shoulder and dreams and ambitions. 

Where as Jared barely graduated, isn't even close to being employed anywhere where he can use the degree he had studied for and still has that stupid frat boy mentality. 

When I look at the two of them I just see clear opposites and I think in this situation the fact that opposites have attracted is going to be the cause of her downfall. 

I don't want her to end up having kids with this deadbeat and having to deal with a husband that over sexualizes her and leaves her to work, take care of the kids, cook and clean. Because without a doubt that's the kind of husband he would be to her.

I must just care for her wellbeing since I've known her for so long. 

People have mistaken her for my daughter on occasion if I happen to take her and Jina somewhere and it just makes me cringe every time I hear it. 

She's not my daughter. She's anything but my daughter. Yes she's my daughter's friend and we've become somewhat close and I care about her but she is not my daughter. 

Maybe the reason I'm so bothered by everything about this is that I've started to develop feelings for her. 

Thinking back and remembering all of the good times we've had together it seems like I've liked her for a while now. I could even love her but it looks like I won't be able to explore those feelings anymore with this all happening.

It's just my luck that I start to figure it out right before she marries him.  

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[vsnyarbll]

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden pt3

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, platonic!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 5.958

warnings: explicit language, nsfw (male masturbation, sexual thoughts) angst, patriarchy, love triangle (kind of?)

a/n: English is not my native language.

y/n entered through the black double-winged door. She didn't feel the need to knock. The person y/n was visiting was probably asleep anyway. She didn't want to wake him. 

It was getting on towards three in the afternoon. The servants had finished their work, and everyone else in the castle had gone to their corners. 

A week after her parents had arrived at the Red Keep, they were gone. y/n was not sad. She was happy that they had stayed longer than she had expected. 

"Aegon?" she called, but the man in the bed did not move. y/n walked to the side where Aegon was not lying. He wasn't wearing night clothes. He must have come from outside and curled up on the bed. 

y/n lay down on the bed without getting under the covers. She began to rub her arms, which ached from carrying Maelor.

"y/n," he said. But his eyes were still closed. y/n turned her gaze from the pictures of dragons on the wall of his room to him. Aegon rubbed his eyes with his right hand, but he still had not opened them. "y/n," he said again, his voice rough from waking up a moment ago. y/n couldn't tell if Aegon knew her presence in his room.

He opened his eyes and studied the ceiling, still not looking at her. Aegon turned to his right and was startled to see her. "y/n?" he said. This time he sounded surprised by her presence in his room.

"Hello, Aegon."

Aegon stirred where he lay. "When did you get here?" 

"I just got here."

Aegon mumbled something, but y/n couldn't understand what he said. 

"I was bored. And there is nothing to do in the castle." 

Aegon chuckled and barely managed to sit up sleepily, leaning his back against the headboard. "Maelor-" 

"With his wet nurse."

"Aemond-" 

"The gods know where he is." 

Aegon nodded. 

y/n's arm was touching his. He tried to ignore the slight pressure on his arm. But also, he tried to savor their little interaction. 

"Have you forgiven me?" 

y/n turned her head towards him. "I don't know, Aegon."

Aegon smoothed the sheets over him, hoping the bulge between his legs wouldn't show. 

"Were you dreaming?" she asked.

He blushed slightly as Aegon's dream filled his memory again. The details of his dream were fading, but he still remembered y/n's curves and the sounds she made. "No, I wasn't. Why would you think that?"

The possibility that Aegon might have made noises while sleeping and that she might have heard them worried him. 

"I don't know. You seemed peaceful." 

Aegon grimaced. He didn't like waking up. Sleeping was the best way to escape the responsibilities of real life. "I was peaceful."

y/n reached up and pulled a lock of hair out of Aegon's eyes. Her fingertips caressed his forehead as she brushed his hair out of his face. "There's no reason you shouldn't be at peace when you're not sleeping." 

Aegon bowed his head. His cheeks warmed even more with y/n's fingertips touching his forehead.

He immediately turned his face away from her. "It's getting colder. Fall is coming, isn't it?" 

y/n giggled. "I suppose so." 

Aegon looked like he wanted to say something. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes but said nothing. 

"I don't want to be cross with you, do you understand?" she asked.

"Yes, I understand." 

y/n turned her body fully towards him. And put her hand on his arm. "It still doesn't feel right that you didn't tell me, but I understand your reasons." 

Aegon wanted to push y/n's hand away. His feelings for her were no longer an innocent infatuation. Everything he felt for her had intensified. And he didn't want those desires to damage whatever it was between them. 

"You can forgive me any time you want. I deserve every moment you don't forgive me." 

"Just because I resent you doesn't mean we can't spend time together, okay? You can come to my chambers whenever you want." 

Aegon unconsciously moved his hand to his forehead where y/n's fingers had just touched it. "I thought you wouldn't want to see me." 

"There are only two people in this whole castle that I don't want to see. I live in the same chambers with one of them, and the other comes every day to spend time with her grandson." 

Aegon smiled.

y/n fixed her eyes on the picture on the wall again. "Your absence makes it harder for me to tolerate them." 

As Aegon babbled something about understanding, y/n turned to him again. Then she ran her fingers through the waves of his hair.

When y/n first came to the castle, his hair was always unkempt, and his waves were barely visible. 

But now he woke up every morning and combed his hair, using various oils to bring out his waves. 

Because once, when the servants prepared his hair for a celebration, y/n said his waves were beautiful. 

Aegon took her hand from his arm. "I will come to you." 

The warmth of his hand felt good against y/n's cold one. The ring he always wore on his finger was uncomfortable pressure against her hand, but she didn't mind. 

y/n couldn't stop her face from heating up as Aegon held her hand, and their faces were so close.

She carefully got out of bed. "I see you're not wearing your nightclothes. The queen has invited me to tea. Would you like to come?" 

Aegon shuddered at the thought of spending time with his mother long enough to sit and drink tea, but he did not want to leave y/n vulnerable. "Yes, of course." 

y/n crossed her arms and waited for him to get out of bed. They looked at each other briefly. "Oh... You're waiting for me to come."

"Yes?" 

If Aegon came out from under the covers, y/n would see his bulge. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. And anyway, the situation was inappropriate, no matter how you looked at it. 

"I... I need to do something. I need... I need some time. I'll be right with you." 

y/n raised her eyebrows slightly. "You need to do something?" 

Aegon resolutely kept his serious expression on his face and nodded. "I need to do something." 

One side of y/n's lip lifted as she looked at his face. "Have fun," she said. And she left the room without looking back.

Aegon looked over to where y/n had just stood, his expression alternating between surprise and embarrassment.

She didn't understand. Right?

xxx

Aegon hurried out into the hall after finishing his work.

Stroking his hand around his cock several times was enough to get him to cum. He came faster than he usually did. Because y/n, the central source of his desires, had just touched his arm, his face.

Just thinking about her scent filling his nose every time she moved made him finish quickly.

He looked for a while at the semen spilling onto his fingers. The thought of how he could fill her with it almost made him hard again, but he quickly dressed back.

When he arrived in front of his mother's room, he sighed deeply and knocked on the door.

"You may come in," said the familiar voice.

Aegon went in, and when he saw his mother's depressed chambers, he wanted to go out again. 

All around the room were seven-pointed stars and objects that reminded her mother of her gods. But he was more stressed by what he experienced in the room than by the objects.

"Aegon," his mother said in surprise. "I thought you were asleep, as always."

"I was, but I woke up. Then I realized we hadn't spent time together in a while."

His mother smiled but seemed uncomfortable with her eldest son's presence.

He saw y/n sitting on the armchair in the center of the room, eating the lemon cake in front of her. She smiled at Aegon and slid over to make room for him, obviously wanting him to sit with her.

Aegon returned her smile and was about to sit with her, but his mother moved first and sat down with y/n, sending her son a stern look.

Aegon sighed again and settled into the seat opposite them.

"Talya, will you bring the prince some wine?"

'Yet another humiliation.' he thought. "I'll have tea or whatever it is you drink."

The mother looked at her son again with the same puzzled expression and looked at y/n from the corner of her eye. "All right. Talya, the prince will have some tea."

The queen's maid brought tea and a plate for Prince Aegon. She placed a slice of cake on his plate.

"Would you like anything else, my prince?" she asked. Her eyes were constantly shifting between the queen and the prince.

"No, I'm fine."

The maid bowed to the queen and went to the back of the room again.

"Lady y/n, you look happier than usual today. Has something different happened?"

y/n set her cup down on the table and looked briefly at Aegon.

"Nothing different, your grace," y/n said. But she smiled to herself.

Aegon awarded that y/n felt more at ease with his presence in the room.

"Where is your husband?"

y/n's smile instantly froze at the mention of Aemond. "I do not know, my queen."

Whatever the queen did and whatever she said was meant to imply something. y/n may not have realized it, but Aegon knew her well enough to know her mother's every move.

"Has your milk stopped?" The queen asked instantly. y/n almost choked on her tea. "I always wanted you to nurse my grandson yourself, but of course, it is your choice," she said mockingly.

y/n stared at her mother-in-law. How could she have an opinion on such a matter? "I don't think it's something to discuss in front of your son, your grace."

The queen gave a fake smile. "I don't think you are beware of Aegon, my daughter. If you can discuss your bedroom problems with him, I am sure you will have no problem discussing this."

y/n was instantly on her feet. "Is that what this is all about? Is that the reason for your suggestive glances and sarcastic tone?" Then she added reluctantly. "Your grace."

"You're a married woman. You think you can hang out with your husband's brother out of nowhere?"

"Your grace-"

"Mother," said Aegon as he stood up. "How can you accuse Lady y/n like that? Nothing has passed between us. Is the idea that there can only be friendship between us so impossible to you?"

"Sit down, Aegon. I-"

"Instead of blaming y-" he cleared his throat. "Instead of blaming Lady y/n, teach your son how to behave honorably."

The queen stood up in anger. But like Aemond, she did not easily let her anger get the better of her.

"How about you teach him, Aegon, as his elder brother?" she locked her hands. "Perhaps you would if you could get your nose out of the brothels and free yourself from the time you've taken to drooling over my maids."

Aegon clenched his fists. "Mother, you-"

y/n grabbed Aegon's fist. "Aegon, forget it."

"Aegon? When did you become so close that you no longer call each other by your titles? And you expect me to believe that this is a simple friendship?"

y/n turned angrily to the queen this time. "Instead of lecturing us on morals here, deal with your son's faults, your grace." she took a deep breath to calm herself. "And when I say deal with his faults, I don't mean cover them up," she said. "Have you ever spoken to him about it, my queen?"

"About what?"

"Are you mad, mother? Have you finally lost your mind? She's talking about Aemond cheating on Lady y/n and all of you acting as if nothing happened."

The queen looked at Aegon with wide eyes.

"Can we go, my prince?" y/n asked in a low voice. 

Aegon looked at y/n, who was now completely wrapped in his arm. He decided he had to hurry to get her out of that room. And he nodded silently.

The queen watched her son and daughter-in-law leave the room, her heart beating fast. She was sure that they didn't realize what they called friendship between them was so much more than friendship.

But all she wanted to do was protect Aemond. She didn't care about the peace or happiness of her eldest son or a girl from another land.

The moment Aegon and y/n stepped out into the hallway, they breathed a sigh of relief. y/n was holding Aegon's hand, but she didn't realize it. Aegon wanted to squeeze his hand tighter around her, but he didn't dare. He knew she would pull her hand away if she realized they were holding hands.

"I apologize for my mother, for everyone."

"You didn't do anything, Aegon. You're not the one who should apologize. And I don't think the queen talking to her son will change him. You can change how someone acts. But you can't change who they are inside."

Aegon nodded sadly. "What do you want to do-"

y/n instantly pulled her hand away from his. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

y/n stopped walking and looked at Aegon. The prince was tall, so she should have raised her head to see his face, but she didn't. Instead, she looked at Aegon through her lashes.

Aegon had long imagined how she would look like this, and now here she was. 

If they weren't in a sad state, Aegon would get hard again. That was one of the biggest troubles he had been having for a few months. 

"I'm tired. I should go to my chambers.

"Of course," Aegon said, his voice shaking.

y/n began to make her way to her room. Aegon watched her walk, already missing the presence of her hand in his. 

If she were Aegon's, he wouldn't leave her alone for a second. His hands would always be on her hands. On her arms. And on her whole body. He would think of her before himself. Her pleasure before his own. Her comfort before his own.

y/n suddenly turned around. Aegon didn't look away, not afraid that she knew he was watching her. 

"You are not what she says you are. Just because someone tries to mold you doesn't mean you have to fit that mold, Aegon."

Aegon could not answer. He felt his knees growing weak and unable to hold him up. ‘Just because someone tries to mold you doesn't mean you have to fit that mold.’ He repeated the words inwardly as if to commit them to his memory.

As y/n walked to her chambers, he moved to the edge of the wall and held on to it.

xxx

Aemond took a short ride with his dragon and turned back. 

He did not use the royal carriage from the Dragonpit back to the castle. One of the things that helped him clear his head was his daily walks. 

He used to enjoy training with Ser Criston, but spending long hours on the training field was no longer what he found peaceful. Wielding a sword was still his passion, but now he liked to deal with calmer matters. 

Ever since he had claimed Vhagar, she had always made it possible for Aemond to take short breaks from life. He liked being in the sky better than on the ground. 

Aemond didn't tie his hair up when he flew, unlike his kin. He liked the way the wind licked his hair and blew it back. 

But he always dressed warmly. Aemond hated being cold. That's why he always wanted to snuggle up to y/n at night and sleep. And, of course, he wanted to be as close to her as he could. But she refused to even look at him, let alone hold him.

But before, they slept glued to each other every night. 

And on nights when neither of them could sleep, they would snuggle under a blanket and watch the stars. 

He couldn't believe that what he used to have was real. Some nights y/n would lie in his arms, and he would pinch his own arm after making sure she was asleep. 'I'm dreaming, or she's a figment of my imagination,' he always thought. 

He would watch her, trying to be sure of her presence in his arms. 

Now there was none of the intoxications of happiness that he had only two months ago.

Aemond knew she was right. She had every right to ignore him.

But he wanted her to be angry with him and then ignore him. They never fought except the day she found out about Alys. And the day he went to their chambers drunk. 

It never even came up. Yes, y/n ignored him. But at the same time, when she told him about his duties, she used such a tone of voice that Aemond felt dizzy.

If he didn't clench his fingers into fists and squeeze his fists until his knuckles turned white, he would bend her on a table right then and there. 

"The queen is waiting for you in her chambers," she would say, and her tone would be enough to give Aemond an erection.

Aemond's patience was wearing thin as she ignored him while at the same time ordering him around in her sweet voice.

He wanted to shake his head from side to side to distract his thoughts, but he didn't.

He finally managed to take his mind off y/n's body, her curves and breasts, her messy hair, and her cheeks flushed whenever he kissed that spot on her neck.

There was something else he had to focus his attention on with all his might. His beautiful wife, his beloved y/n, had started some rumors behind his back. 

He had first heard the rumor from his mother. It was simple and harmless. It was about y/n would not carry a second child to Aemond. The queen was furious, of course, but it didn't affect Aemond in the slightest. At least he believed it was her right to spread these rumors. 

But a few days later, the rumors came to him in other forms. They snowballed over a week, and the shape they finally took was the last straw for Aemond. 

The rumors were simply about y/n choosing Aegon over him.

But the way people embellished that simple sentence was very different.

But even if the sentence had come to him straightforwardly without any other implication, it would still have angered him.

For the last few weeks, hearing Aegon's name was enough to push him to the limit of his patience.

Aegon had never lifted a finger in his childhood. Nor in all his life up to that day.

Aemond was the only one who had worked through all the hardships to make his name worthwhile. 

And it had worked, but Aegon would be king only because he was born before him.

His brother, who only cared about sticking his cock in every hole he could find, would one day be king.

He had claimed his dragon by his own labor, spending hours in the library for years, always wanting to learn more.

But other than the title of prince, he had nothing of his own.

xxx

Aemond entered their chambers and found his wife at the table, arranging her jewelry. 

He took slow steps toward y/n as he removed the leather gloves from his hand, one finger at a time. "How was your day?" he asked. And put the leather gloves next to the jewelry.

y/n spoke without lifting her head. "I've been working on these for a few hours. Other than that, it was a quiet day." she carefully placed the ruby necklace in the box. 

"How was yours?" 

"It started well. Maelor and I played a little. Well, if holding him on my lap counts as playing." 

y/n took the earrings out of her ears. "He'll grow up. Then you can play all the games you want." 

Aemond nodded. 

He felt angry at y/n, but not for the rumors she was spreading. 

He was angry with her because she was sitting across from him in the thinnest nightgown in her closet, and he wasn't even touching her with his pinky finger. "What did the maesters say about whether we could fulfill our duties as husband and wife?" once again, he was overcome with lust. 

The rumors that had brought him to the room were not even in the back of his mind right now. 

A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of anger, Aemond said he would bed with her, but they never did. And then the doctors told them to wait a while. 

y/n finished at the table and stood up calmly. "Are you asking if I can have sex with you, Aemond?" 

Aemond's lips formed a thin line. A few more sentences with that attitude, and he was going to cream his pants. "I mean, you know, you gave birth. And I thought you might still be sensitive to something like that." 

y/n walked over to her side of the bed. "I'm not bedding with you because the maesters told me to, Aemond." 

She took off the robe over her nightgown. "I'm not bedding with you because I don't want to." 

Aemond sighed at her nipples, clearly visible under the nightgown. 

She picked up the lavender oil from the table beside the bed. She pulled up the skirt of her dress just enough to allow it to reach her leg and began to apply the oil carefully. 

"I-" y/n interrupted him and smiled. "The oil you use is nice too, but I prefer this one." Aemond looked at her, his eye wide. "I-" he cleared his throat. "I should go." As soon as he finished his sentence, he headed for the door.

"As you wish, dear husband."

Aemond's steps stopped instantly. 

Dear husband

Those two words fell so softly from her lips that he decided not to leave the room. There was nowhere more important for him to be than next to his wife.

He moved to his side of the bed, and y/n watched him, wondering what he was doing.

He took off his leather coat and placed it on the chair. 

"May you call the maid? I'm going to take a bath."

y/n nodded and took the robe, and put it back on. 

After telling the guard at the door to call the maid, she walked towards Aemond.

He looked sad. It was as if whatever had been on his mind for days had aged him a few years.  

She had tried not to care. She was already succeeding in the past few days. But it didn't make sense to her that Aemond should look so vulnerable. 

She wanted to ask how he was, but the words caught in her throat. She watched him as she took off her robe again, not wanting to miss a move.

Aemond's hand trembled as he unbuttoned his first button. y/n continued to watch him in amazement. 

When Aemond switched to the second button, he lingered on it for a long time. 

His hands weren't shaking enough to prevent him from undoing the button, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.  

y/n couldn't stand the sight before her any longer. How could someone's head be so disorganized that they couldn't unbutton their buttons?

y/n grabbed his hand to stop him and started to unbutton him herself. 

Aemond watched her expression without saying anything. He was surprised, but at the same time, he was trying to enjoy their closeness.

Her fingertips first touched the skin on his chest. Aemond's heart sped up, and his breaths became more frequent.

He was frightened that she might feel or even see his chest rising and falling faster than usual. He didn't want her to know she had such a hold on him.

Aemond put his hand behind his back and squeezed as she unbuttoned the buttons above his navel.  

After she undid all the buttons, she ran her fingers over his belly. 

She had always been fascinated by the fair skin that all the Targaryen had. 

She stroked his muscles with her fingertips and felt his breathing quicken. 

She admired his skin, smoother than her own, and a few scattered freckles that she could find where they were with her eyes closed. 

"y/n..." he said. And he gently held her arm, exposed by her nightgown. He stroked her arm with his thumb. The moment he said "y/n-" again, there was a knock on the door. 

They both moved quickly away from each other. 

y/n cleared her throat and said, "come in." 

The maid came and bowed at the prince and his wife, then went to the bathroom.

Aemond fiddled with his shirt sleeve to avoid eye contact as y/n let her eyes roam the room. 

As the maid came out of the bathroom, Aemond quickly entered it.

"You can go. Tidy the bathroom tomorrow." 

"Okay, my lady," she said and left the room. 

y/n lay on her bed and waited for Aemond to finish.

She could hear the sound of water from the bathroom. 

y/n closed her eyes, feeling the comfort of the bed, and reached out her hand toward where Aemond always slept. She ran her hand along the bedspread, trying to imagine his warmth.

They used to sleep cuddled together. Their legs would get so entangled that y/n couldn't get out of bed without waking him up.

Aemond's arm would ache from y/n resting her head on it all night, but he wouldn't dare move a finger, let alone his arm.

When y/n was pregnant, he was careful not to squeeze her too tightly, but he always slept with his hand on her stomach.

That was why y/n was surprised when she found out she had been cheated on and cried for days.

Although he was not very close to her in public and during the day, he kept her as close as possible at night. It was as if the depressed, dissatisfied Aemond had gone, and someone else had replaced him. 

y/n thought he loved her. She thought it was just that the way he showed his love was unorthodox. 

But he had no love left to share with her because he had someone else to share it with. 

y/n's eyes were about to fill again with the heaviness in her chest. She tried to calm herself by telling herself everything would be all right, as Aegon had always told her.

When he said it, it was believable. But it wasn't as effective when y/n said it to herself.

He would be afraid to hold her in his arms. He would put his hand on her shoulder and arm to comfort her. 

She closed her eyes tightly when she thought of Aegon. How would she get out of this dilemma?

There was no more water sound coming from the bath. Aemond usually kept his baths long. This time he came out faster than she expected.

He opened the bathroom door quickly. As it opened, y/n's nose filled with Aemond's scent. She couldn't get enough of the smell she hadn't inhaled in weeks. She tried to take deep breaths. His scent both comforted her as it reminded her of the two years they had spent together and made her feel even sadder as it reminded her of his betrayal.

When he saw y/n lying, he closed the door quietly, thinking she must be asleep. Then he took a blanket from one of the armchairs and draped it over y/n.

She opened her eyes as she felt the weight of the blanket. "I wasn't sleeping," she said. But her voice sounded sleepy.

"I thought you were." 

He took the blanket back, folded it casually, and put it back on the armchair.

Since he had dressed in the bathroom, he went straight to bed. But just like y/n, he didn't remove the bedclothes and sat directly on the bed, his back against the headboard.

He put his wet hair behind the headboard so his clothes wouldn't get wet. 

He leaned his head back and closed his eye.

"Aemond, are you okay?" 

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know if I'm okay or not."

y/n realized he sounded hurt. "You can tell me." 

Aemond felt his chest tighten. "How can you still be so nice to me?" 

y/n didn't know how to react at first. "I just wanted to know what upset you." 

"It's Maelor." 

y/n turned to him curiously. How could it be Maelor? How could it be that her beloved son was the problem that confused him?

"What if his dragon egg never hatches?"

y/n also found it strange that his egg hadn't hatched yet, but she didn't think about it much. She didn't know when it was supposed to hatch.

"I'm sure it will hatch." 

"No, you don't know," he said, "you don't know anything." 

She ignored the implication in his voice. "After all, a dragon will come out of it. I'm sure it takes time." 

Aemond stroked around his eye patch. "It's been three weeks. It should have cracked by now." 

"Aemond-"

"If he doesn't have a dragon, the other children in the castle will try to humiliate and harm him." 

"You never know. Maelor can do many successful things without having a dragon. He can fill his life with meaningful things. He can get a good education and can be a good swordsman."

Aemond chuckled. "Trust me. It's all meaningless."  

"But-"

Aemond interrupted her. He didn't want to miss this opportunity, now that he had the confidence to tell her things he had never told anyone. "You talk about how lonely you are in the castle. I was lonely too, y/n. I had no one. I still have no one." 

y/n immediately knew what he was talking about. It was no secret what a lonely childhood Prince Aemond had had, and it was the talk of the kingdom. 

"His father is not like your father. I'm sure you will protect him." 

"If anyone dares to touch him, I will destroy them."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

y/n couldn't understand why she was trying to comfort him. She thought it was because he seemed vulnerable. She suddenly felt she had forgotten everything in her head and had to protect him.

"The most important thing for a Targaryen is that your egg hatch for you," he said. He was obviously still stuck on that. 

"If his egg does not hatch, he will claim a dragon in the future, Aemond. There is a solution."

He shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I was alone all my childhood because my egg didn't hatch for me. A Targaryen without a dragon is the most humiliating thing to be."  

Aemond thought of how he had waited by his egg for days. His mother had always told him it would hatch, but it never had. He would sit by his egg for hours. At night when he slept, he would put it close to him. He thought his Valyrian blood would eventually hatch it, as he had read in the books. That was why he always kept it very close. But nothing ever happened. To him, the egg was nothing more than a worthless stone.

"But then you claimed Vhagar, Aemond, the greatest dragon alive." 

He looked at her face briefly. 

He could never despise the freedom and power that Vhagar had brought him. But she could not give him back his childhood.

"Throughout my childhood, I had to watch their interaction with their dragons in the Dragonpit. They made fun of me all the time. Jace, Luke..." his face hardened at the mention of Luke. "Your dear Aegon." 

y/n lowered her gaze to her lap. 

"They took everything from me, y/n, the little courage I had as a child, my self-confidence," he said. "My eye. They took my everything. And he still continues to steal everything I have."

y/n knew who he was talking about and what he meant by stealing. 

Aegon had finally shattered the only structure he could call family. He was trying to steal y/n's love from him. And he did not doubt that Maelor would love Aegon more than he loved him. 

"No one steals from you anymore, Aemond. You wanted it to be like this. Everything you are suffering is a result of what you've done."

Aemond turned on her angrily. "And here's the other thing. What do you get out of people thinking I have a small cock and that I'm a fool who can't even get laid?" 

"Nothing. But I feel happier. You don't get what you deserve in this fucking castle. At least you can understand a little bit of how I feel. The way people look at you with pity, the way everyone talks about you in the corridors..." 

"You know they are lies."

"Do you think so? I don't remember saying anything about how amazing the size of your cock is or how well you fuck."

Aemond straightened his posture. His hair was starting to touch his shoulders and arms. His wet hair had already begun to leave wet spots. 

He was surprised by her foul language, but he also liked it. 

"You're not going to get anything by acting angry." 

"But I'm not acting angry, Aemond! I am angry." 

"I would never leave you for someone else to take. Tell that fucking bastard in one of your secret meetings that if he becomes king one day, it won't affect me. If he wakes up one day and becomes one of the seven gods, he can't take you away from me. You both better get that through your heads." 

y/n's eyes filled with tears of anger. "Aemond, you've already ruined my life once! What's wrong with you?" 

Aemond got up from the bed. "You are mine. Maelor is mine. I know you would never sleep with Aegon, y/n. You're not that brave." 

"Bravery? Is it brave to sleep with someone else when you're married, Aemond? You haven't even apologized, and now you're standing here telling me this!" 

Aemond took a back step as if to free himself from that conversation.

"Are you upset that your whore got pregnant by someone else? Is that why you're like this? Is Maelor's egg your excuse?" 

"You think I am upset because of her? You think she's important to me?" 

"Then why did you follow her around for years?"

Aemond paused. 

"Wasn't I enough for you?" she asked, averting her eyes. 

"y/n..." Aemond said, taking a step toward her. 

"I know I don't know much. But I thought you liked the nights we spent together."  

"y/n..." he said again. "You're more than enough." 

"Then why? I don't understand..." y/n said, her voice very low. She wasn't sure if Aemond had heard her, but from the sad look on his face, he had heard her.

"I'm sorry. For making you feel inadequate." 

y/n shook her head. "It doesn't matter how you made me feel, Aemond. You ruined everything. We..." she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. "We could have been a happy family. I could have given you the love of a family." 

Aemond's vision blurred. 

"At least tell me why."

The words came to the tip of his tongue, but he held himself back. "I can't." 

This time y/n could not hold back her tears. "See you tomorrow, Aemond," she said. Then she left the room, knowing where to go.

next chapter

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[becca-e-barnes]

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."

[rush-the-stars]

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART II

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || <- part i || part iii -> coming soon || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, eventual forced feeding, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is the second part of my lil series for @lorelune spring fever collab!!

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The mission that Suguru sends you on is to fetch a book. 

At first, you are endlessly irritated with him. A book should be far beneath you; he should’ve had one of his lackeys get it for him. 

However, upon finally getting your hands on it–after a nasty fight with both curses and other sorcerers–you realize that perhaps the book is rather important.

Firstly, you can’t open it on your own. It’s imbued with cursed energy and locked tight. And secondly, the energy it gives off is strange. 

It fills you with a restless, relentless sort of buzz. You feel like a caged beast with it in your presence. You feel like–

You feel a little off-kilter. A little hungry for a fight. 

On the third day, you come home. 

You let yourself into Suguru’s quarters. 

He’s in his study, at his desk, when you barge in and throw the book down onto the desk. 

Suguru picks up his gaze. 

“You’re back early,” he muses, drinking you in with greedy eyes, “clearly it was no trouble?” 

“Hardly.” You snap, “hoping I’d be away for longer?”

A quirk at the corner of his lips, “not at all. In fact, I was impatient for your return.” 

Heat whips the back of your neck.

“Come here,” he hums, “let me see you.” 

He offers his hand up. He wants you to step around the desk to stand in front of him, you think. 

Tentatively, you go to him, round the desk and step up to him. He turns and settles deeper into the desk chair, spreads his legs so that you may even step up between them. 

You slide your hand into his slowly. 

He pulls you a step closer. And closer still. 

“No injuries?” He asks, eyes skimming over your body. 

You swallow and shake your head. 

“Good,” he sighs and then he pulls a little harder on your hand. And his other hand suddenly hitches around the back of your knee. All it takes is a little effort on his part, and you’re stumbling into his lap. 

You throw your hands out to find balance in his broad shoulders, clinging to him, holding yourself out from him. 

“Suguru,” you growl in annoyance, fussing, fighting against him a little. 

You can feel his smile the moment he dips his face towards the crook of your neck, “did it help to have my scent on you?” 

You dig your nails into his shoulders, as if to be spiteful, despite what you say, “it always does.” 

He hums, pleased, and drags his nose along your throat again.

He pulls away to look at you, bristled and embarrassed. 

“Go bathe,” he tells you, “and wear my clothes. I want you to stay here tonight.” 

You jerk back a little, surprised, “and if I refuse?” 

“I wasn’t asking.” He says flippantly. 

You scoff, moving to stand, “I’m going back to my room.” 

His hand squeezes your waist tightly and prevents you from leaving him, from separating yourself from him, “I see the time away hasn’t made you any softer.” 

“Let me go,” you push at his chest, “let me up.” 

Instead, he catches one of your wrists, holding it to his chest with his large hand. He nearly drowns your hand, overwhelms it entirely. 

“Do as I ask, and I’ll let you go.” 

You make a noise of irritation, “I won’t share a bed with you.” 

“I’ll be good,” he purrs, but even as he says that, you feel his hips flex beneath yours a little, opening, widening his stance. 

“I’m not stupid,” you hiss, trying to lift off him a little, but he’s got too tight of a grip on your waist. 

“I’ll rub your tense shoulders,” he torments you, and then, his smile grows like that of a fox, “I know you like to sleep in my bed.” 

Your heart rabbits in your chest. 

“I’ve never slept in your bed,” you snip. 

He laughs, low and soft and outright. “There’s no reason to lie now,” he says, languidly leaning back in his seat a little. “You slept in my bed while I was away.” 

Your cheeks prickle with warmth, embarrassment. 

“I didn’t–”

“I know you’re embarrassed, but don’t lie to me.” He says it seriously, eyes suddenly going colder. 

And just like that, you open your mouth—

“I did once.” 

Suguru seems pleased, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand that he still has trapped against his chest. “Now you will again.” 

You huff. And you understand there is little to win in this case; you could fight harder, snarl and snap and try to leave on your own. 

(But there is that horrendously small and foolish part of you that does want to stay. It wants what he has offered you.) 

“On one condition.”

“Name it.” 

He seems serious in knowing your request—earnest, almost.

Your voice sticks in your throat. You try to form your words carefully, “you won’t do anything—sexual. At all. Not while I’m asleep and—there’s no tricks.” 

“What kind of Alpha do you take me for?” Suguru asks innocently and level him with a glare. 

“Suguru—“ 

“No tricks.” He agrees quickly. 

“Nothing.” You tell him sternly. 

“Not even if you beg for it?” 

“I wouldn’t!” You snap, nails flexing back into the meat of his shoulder. The one at his chest bunches in his clothes beneath his own hand. 

He laughs a little again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you. “Easy, sweet girl, okay. You have my promise; I won’t do anything sexual. No tricks.” 

But the way he says it makes warning bells go off in your mind, distant and wailing. Still, you have his word. 

He suddenly takes your chin in hand and guides you to look into his eyes, deeply amethyst, darkly lilac.

 “I do mean it.” He says sternly now, and then, “the first time I have you, it will be because you came to me, and begged, with a clear head and open heart.” 

You try and jerk your chin from his grasp but he holds tighter, forcing you to stay, “do you understand?” 

“I would never—“

“Ah, ah, do you understand?” 

“Yes!” You snap and when you jerk away this time, he lets you go. All of you. 

You leap from him on unsteady feet, rocking back a little, steadying yourself on the desk. 

“Go,” he encourages, “take a bath. And choose any of my clothes you like.” 

You swallow hard and glare at him. 

“I don’t need your orders.” You grind out.

“Yes, so fearsome you are,” Suguru waves you off and you almost have half a mind to surge back towards him and make him regret saying that. You’re feeling prickly, though, and something inside of you has knocked loose.

You’ve been blaming it on the book.

You’re flushed from the inside out, heated, and frustrated. 

You stomp off towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. 

*

*

*

The bath actually does soothe some of your mood. The bathtub is large and clean; the soaps you used smell faintly of Suguru. The water had been perfect and you’d managed to relax and sink down to your shoulders. 

And dressing in his clothes after does more for you than you’re willing to admit. You’re just in an old, soft t-shirt of his. It’s large on your frame and it smells like him, which soothes you in a way that is almost frightening. 

When you enter the bedroom, Suguru is not there yet and you assume he is still in his office. You almost hope that he is, that you’ll have time to get comfortable, without his watchful eyes. 

You arrange the pillows how you like and when you’re satisfied with your side, you slip beneath the covers and into the cool sheets. You turn and twist a moment, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets, before letting out a little noise of contentment. It slips from you before you can stop it. 

And just when you’re beginning to drift off, faintly wondering if Suguru will ever join you, does he finally step into his bedroom. He takes you in and his scent almost changes with it—sweeter, a little darker. You can tell he’s pleased with you. 

When he joins you in bed, you go perfectly still. He’s bare chested and you almost want to complain about it—instead, you squirm away from him. 

It doesn’t get you far and once he’s beside you, he’s reaching out to lay his hand across the expanse of your waist. 

You are about to warn him, bite something out about staying on his side, or to watch himself. But he doesn’t pull you or drag you towards him. He doesn’t roll towards you. 

His hand stays, on your waist, drifts to be on your lower back. 

The first pass of his hand over your back makes you tense all over, muscles poised to snap or leap away from him. The second, you can feel your breathing tighten up. The third, you realize that this may be it. 

You wait, near trembling, as he continues to soothe his hand over your back. Up and down. A slow petting, over the shirt of his you’d worn to bed. 

And eventually, you begin to melt; all those tense muscles slowly unwinding. 

Then you’re sighing, soft, into the pillow. 

Your eyes grow heavy, breath beginning to loosen and even out, slow and deep. 

Sleep claims you gently, eases you into its tender embrace, like cooing a baby to sleep, like soothing a stray. 

***

In the morning, you wake alone. The bed beside you is empty.

You are almost disheartened to see it. The initial disappointment rears its head, sinks into your stomach, before you try to shoo it away. 

But when you listen closely, you can hear him in the kitchen moving about. His footsteps are quiet but there. 

Instinctively, the part of you attuned to him, knows he is near. 

It soothes you. 

You twist a little, throwing some blankets from your body—warmer than usual, a little flushed.

You blame it on the sun streaming through the wide window, the warmth as it seeps into the sheets. You doze again like this, in its beams, covers astray around your legs, curled around one of the several pillows. 

In and out of sleep. Hazy, burning flickers of dreams. 

When you fully wake again, an hour later, you are even warmer than before.

You feel a little strange. Chilled atop your skin, a little shivery, but so warm from within. 

You blame it on nerves; perhaps you don’t want to face Suguru after staying in his bed. Perhaps being away from your own bed has made you anxious, too. As much as you try to hide any of your baser urges, your space is important to you. Your bed is important. 

You know you can’t hide from him forever. 

More than that, you want water, perhaps. Ice water. You feel parched suddenly. You feel dehydrated. 

When you enter the kitchen, you are surprised to find water already out. A bowl of cut up fruit beside it. Suguru is reading in the attached living room.

You look at him. And then at the fruit.

“It’s for you,” he says, without looking up from his book. 

You blink at him.

“Why?”

His brows arch upward and he finally pulls his dark eyes away from the page in order to look at you. 

“Because you should eat.” 

Something inside you, under immense pressure, finally bursts.

“Don’t start doing this shit.” You snap.

Your tone perhaps takes him by surprise. It’s full of vitriol, it’s full of heat and hatred. “Don’t start doing domestic shit for me.” 

“And here I was, thinking I’d do something kind after all this tormenting.” He says but it’s really rather amused. Knowing.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” You snarl at him. 

He looks you over carefully and something in his face changes—just a small, almost unnoticeable flicker. He asks;

“How do you feel?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“What did you do?” You accuse suddenly. 

“What did I do? Nothing. I cut up a bowl of fruit for you.” 

You can feel your threads unwinding, fraying at the edges, and can feel the way it unravels inside you.

Your head is beginning to throb. 

Your stomach gives a strange churn. 

“That’s not—that’s not true. I feel strange and you did something.” You say and your voice is getting tighter, almost distressed. 

“Strange how?” He asks coolly. 

“I feel—I feel like I’m sick. Maybe.”

He hums softly. 

And then, “it’s your Heat.”

A dull, soft roaring in your ears. You swallow and the sound clicks around in your throat, your head.

“No—“ you start, “there’s no way.”

“I can smell it,” he says, “you’ve been on the cusp of it for some time now.”

You frown and feel for your head with your open palm, warm to the touch. Feverish. You want to squirm out of your own skin.

“I haven’t had one in years—there’s no way.” You say again but your voice sounds thinner, less believable.

Your eyes flash upwards, “you did this.” 

Suguru looks back at you blankly, “I can’t force your body into Heat.” 

“That’s why you wanted me to stay.” You accuse.

“Perhaps I’m feeling territorial.” He agrees.

“No, you wanted me to stay in hopes of it sparking my Heat—you know an Omega’s Heat can be triggered by an Alpha’s presence sometimes.” 

Suguru remains even, almost gentle, “and you know that that can only happen when an Omega has a pre-established and trusted relationship with the Alpha. Only if the Omega—in some way—wants the Alpha in their presence.” 

You swallow hard. You feel light headed. 

“Alphas can’t just spark the Heat of any random Omega.” He adds, watching you carefully. 

“But you were hoping for this!” You snap, feeling thin and worn down suddenly, “you—you wanted this.”

“I was curious if it’d work.” He admits.

“You set me up.” Your voice is higher than usual, more distressed, filled with more concern. 

“Now, now—“

“I want to go back to my room.” You demand suddenly, “before—before it gets too late. And I don’t want to see you at all until it’s over. I don’t want to see anyone.” You’re beginning to tremble all over. 

You can feel your fear mounting as you stare down the realization that you’re going to have your first Heat in years. 

Tears prick your eyes. 

“You’re staying here.” Suguru says simply. 

“No—“ you bite out, all teeth, all fear and aggression. “I’m getting away from you.” 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Suguru replies coolly, but there’s a sharp, icy edge in his tone, as if dealing with an unruly and temperamental child.

Immediately, you have the urge to start snarling and yelling and stamping your feet. You feel like the unruly child he is treating you as. You can feel your anger and fear like a bubble in your chest, mounting into something horrible, and you’re terrified to let it burst.

Suguru stands slowly, “you’re spiraling—come here.”

“No,” you snap, wincing back from him. 

Suguru holds your gaze.

“Then listen to me carefully.” 

Your eyes, glassy with fever and fear, a little too bright, collide with his.

“What did I tell you last night?” He asks slowly. 

Your flush worsens. You can feel the heat burn and eat through your cheeks. You want to run and hide, you want to lash out and growl. 

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Take a breath.” 

Despite everything, you take in a shuddering, greedy gulp of air.

“What did I tell you last night?” 

You rack your mind, forcing yourself to focus on his voice and breathe. What did he say last night that would be of importance today? Now?

You swallow hard when you realize it.

You pick your head up. 

“You wouldn’t—do anything—if I wasn’t in my right mind and I’m not.”

“No,” he agrees, “you aren’t. So I will not touch you sexually—” And then he holds your gaze for too long, “not even when you beg me.” 

“I will not beg you—“ 

“I will hold you and care for you. But I will not give you what you so desperately will want.” He says slowly, carefully. 

Blindly, you reach—and for what, you aren’t quite sure, “what about you? Will I spark your Rut?”

“I’ve taken a suppressant and will continue to do so.” 

“You planned this,” you say again sharply, “you knew.” 

“Would you prefer I not take the suppressant? Would you like to see what happens—will it make it fair for you?” Suguru asks calmly, so lax that it makes your hands ball into tight fists. 

Pieces of you war and squabble and fight inside of you, opposing forces, opposing ideas. Part of you wants to force him to suffer, too, part of you is angry and hurt that he wouldn’t want to share his Rut with you.

But it also frightens you. You know what would happen then—aren’t too sure it still won’t happen now. 

And you’ve never—

You’ve never shared a heat before. Not with an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta. You have always ran and hid, tucked yourself into small, dark places, and cried and cried alone, hugging yourself. Weathering your own storm. 

You can’t decide if it terrifies you more that you won’t be alone or that you don’t want to be alone. 

Despite everything, your bitter rationale wins. 

“No,” you bite out. “Take your suppressant. And keep your hands to yourself.” 

You turn on your heel and storm back into the bedroom. 

You slam the door so hard that it slants cockeyed on its hinges, hanging itself in place at a strange angle.

You throw yourself down onto the bed, shoving your face into the pillow you’d once been sleeping peacefully on, and a frustrated scream rips through your throat.

You can feel the pressure of tears.

You curl around the pillow, hugging it closely with your face still shoved into it. Your tears blur and push past all your resolve, which crumbles to dust the moment you let out the first breath, and it’s part sob.

You can’t even properly name why you’re crying—you’re scared, you think. You’re emotional and frustrated and aching. You feel vulnerable and confused and bitter. You feel needy and delicate. You feel suddenly young and foolish, to be lured here like this, but also to be alone and longing.

You’re hardly alone, though. 

You can smell his scent still, all over the bed, all over you. 

It soothes you. 

It sickens you that it soothes you.

So you cry—you cry, holding onto your pillow for dear life, until you exhaust yourself.

Until sleep claims your feverish body again and you welcome it’s darkness gladly.

***

Pain awakens you. 

It’s later in the afternoon now, early evening with the way the sun has paved its course through the sky. 

Your Heat has gotten significantly worse.

Your body aches, the chill of the fever, and the sickly warmth of your insides  make for an awful combination.

Worst of all, you can feel the pressure most between your legs.

You shift them and realize there’s—

There’s a slick glide against your inner thighs. 

Oh, god, you think oh, god, oh god, oh god.

You need—

Water. Something.

Suguru— 

Your brain freezes to a halt.

His name spins around your mind.

You half hope he won’t be there that if you leave the bedroom in search of water or—

Suppressants.

You roll to the edge of the bed, a wave of dizziness overcomes you. Despite that, you force yourself to stand on wobbling, fawn legs.

You quietly try to crack the door into the smallest of openings, only a peak, a sliver of light from the other room. 

But instantly, you are caught.

“You’re awake finally.” Suguru says, “you should drink water, eat a little.” 

You don’t budge at first. 

“Do you have more suppressants?” 

You watch Suguru’s head tilt. 

“It's specific to an Alpha’s Rut—it wouldn’t do anything for you.” He answers, “will you come out?” 

“No.” You respond, gripping the knob of the door with curled knuckles, tense fingers. 

“Will you let me in?” 

“No.” 

It’s growled, low and sharp. It echoes a little, charged and bristled. Scared. 

You slam the door again. It’s not sitting right on its hinges anymore. 

You return to the bed, arranging and fluffing pillows how you like them. You build a small wall of them on all sides of you, 

You burrow down into them, settling yourself into the small—nest—you’ve made. You try to take a steadying breath, but all that fills your nose is Suguru’s scent, dark fig and full sandalwood, hints of lush cream and walnut. It’s seductive—almost dreamy. It floats around you like a lure, tempting you. You curl inwards on a pillow again and his smell is stronger here. Deeper. More pungent and twinged with something heavier on the nose, a little more spiced, a scent you can’t place. Something you’d find at the nape of his neck. 

Without thinking, you rub your thighs together. 

A frustrated whine leaks out of you as you turn and toss in his bed. 

Your fingers twist in the sheets. 

“If I hand you water, will you drink it?” Suguru asks through the door and he is much closer than you thought he’d be now—just outside of it. 

“Please go away,” you try to snap, but your voice is strained and wane. 

“You need water, at least.” He sighs. “You haven’t eaten anything yet, either.” 

You bristle, “stop trying to take care of me.” 

“Stop being so stubborn.” Suguru replies, “I’m going to come in.” 

“No!” You snarl. 

Still, the doorknob twists slowly, gently, as if to not frighten you anymore than you already are. In a heartbeat, the door has creaked open and Suguru steps into your space. He has a glass of water in hand. 

You feel your hackles rise, shoulders drawing back and up like an aggressive, bad dog. Your cursed energy ripples around you as you growl and it’s not the humanly sort, but the one you have in your cursed form. 

“So fierce, aren’t you?” Suguru muses softly, taking slow steps towards the nest you’ve made. “I’m only here to give you water.” 

The closer he gets, the lower the growl gets.

Your muscles are so tense that you’re near trembling, as still as can be—unsure if you’re the prey or predator, some inbetween creature too frightened to do anything but be still, but make low threatening, inhuman noises. 

He manages to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“And so frightened.” He ducks his head a little in what could be a show of submission if it came from an Omega. “I told you—I’m not going to do anything to you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Don’t you trust me?” He asks and this time, he catches your eyes, a flicker of something darker in them. 

“Not like this—” you manage to get out. 

“You’re so tense.” 

“I’m—” the word catches, breaks from your throat, “scared.” 

Suguru softens instantly.

(And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s almost pleased. His scent softens, too, sweetens a little.) 

“How would you like me to prove myself this time?” Suguru asks lowly, “would you like to make me bleed again? Would you like to scream at me?” He cocks his head, “or would you like me to hold you? And nothing else?” 

You’re trembling so hard that your teeth are almost chattering with it. 

You realize very keenly that you want to be held. You want to be wrapped up in him, you want to be in his arms. You want. 

“N-no.” You manage to get out. 

“No?” He asks, “in the least, will you drink water for me?” In his broad hand is a glass of cool water, nearly drowning it with his own easy grip over top of it. 

The request is like honey. 

It's sweet in the veins, it’s meant to lure you.

Your mouth is dry. And your temples are throbbing.  

You feel shaky and suddenly realize how weak you are, a little woozy after everything. Perhaps out of fear. Perhaps because he’s right, you haven’t eaten or drank anything all day. It’s nearly evening now. 

Perhaps it’s because of your first Heat in years. 

Slowly, you extend your hand to take the glass from him.

It’s shaking. Hard. 

“Will you allow me?” Suguru asks. 

You bristle, “just—give it to me—” 

“You’re shaking so hard, you’ll spill it.” He responds evenly. 

“I’m not a child.” You snap.

“You’re acting like one,” he says and there’s a smile in it, a little shadow of torment. And then he lowers his voice, soft and dark, “come here.” 

You almost go to him. 

“Stop it.” You bite out, “stop trying to do that.” 

“What am I doing?” He asks, “trying to help you?” 

“No! You know what you’re doing! You’re trying to—to sway me or something!” 

Suguru sighs, “come here.” He says again and it’s gentler now. 

You glare at him, eyes glassy with fever, with anger and fear. 

But he waits patiently. Serenely. He doesn’t give in, he doesn’t waver. You glance at the water in his hands and then back up at his face. He’s so calm, in the face of all your fright and anguish and discomfort. In fact, he seems to revel in it. Bask in it. 

Tears build suddenly in your eyes, much to your fury. Much to your frustration. The pressure behind your eyes is enough to leave you aching, a lump forming in your throat. 

Instantly, Suguru coos, “oh, what’s wrong?” 

You fight the urge to let out a sob or cry harder. 

“Why must you humiliate me?” You ask suddenly. The tears fall despite your best attempts at stopping them. “Why must you torment me?” 

Suguru sets the glass of water down on the nightstand beside the bed. 

In an instant, he’s gathered you into his arms, into his lap. He cradles you, tucks your head beneath his chin and carefully bundles you into the crux of his chest. 

This makes a small sob work it’s way out of you.

He shushes you gently, rocks you a little, “I’m not trying to torment you.” 

“Yes, you are,” you cry, outright, even as you turn your face into his chest to hide there. Even as you cling to him.

“I’m trying to take care of you—is being taken care of humiliating?” 

“Yes,” you get out between another rough sob. 

His hand strokes slowly over your back, pressing you deeper into his chest—his scent is strong here. Dark oud. Sandalwood. Fig. It’s rich, as if he’s pleased or content, almost humming with it.

Perhaps to try and soothe you. Perhaps because it really does please him to have you crying, falling apart in his arms.

You can’t stop the emotions that rise inside you like a tidal wave, can’t stop the way you just want to cling to him. It’s horrible, you cry harder, because it does feel good to be held by him. To be cooed to.

Taken care of.

He rocks you like a mother might rock their child. 

He rocks you until you settle down, until you’re sniffling and going lax in his arms.

You peak up at him through an angry, wet eye. 

“You’re an awful man.” 

“I know,” he agrees gently, reaching up to touch carefully at your cheek, to wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“You torment me.”

“I know,” he consoles softly.

Your head is spinning with him, heady, and filled with pressure. You sniffle hard. His arms around you are warm and strong. He’s so broad. He shrouds you in him, tucks you into him where you might feel safer. He smells heavenly—enough that you think about turning your nose into his throat and scenting him. You think of sinking your teeth down into him.

He strokes the hair from your face gently. 

You realize keenly that he is not going to leave you. 

Not now, during this Heat, or perhaps ever. 

You realize that you have gotten yourself straight into the belly of the beast. You have gotten yourself entangled with someone who you don’t think has ever let go of anything in his life. You think he bites and doesn’t release, jaws tight and locked, and you think you have gotten yourself between his teeth this time. 

A strange peace settles over you at the knowledge.

He won’t leave you.

And if you left him, he’d chase you down. 

How long have you wished for that? For someone to never leave? How long have you wished for some form of peace? 

Is this peace? 

When he reaches to lift the glass of water again, you do not fight him.

Carefully, he cradles the back of your skull with the crux of his large palm. He holds the glass to your lips. You let him. With a tenderness that makes you feel strange, he lets you drink from the cup. Cool water. 

You’re thirstier than you realize. 

Your hands come up like you may touch the glass, hold it yourself, but he pulls it away. 

God forbid he let you do it on your own. 

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. You can’t help but glare at him again—he’d begged to do it for you and now, right when you wanted more, he denies you. 

Again, you ask yourself, is this peace? 

A cramp rolls through your lower back and the ache between your legs strengthens into a horrible throb. 

The whimper that gets torn out of you is a pained and high sound. New tears sting your eyes for entirely different reasons. Your skin feels hypersensitive, prickling with every touch, every place you meet. You shiver. Another cramp, somewhere low in your hip bones, rocks throughout your body. 

Your fist tightens in his clothes. You shift with the smallest, most subtle rock in your pelvis. You grit your teeth together.

You realize the ache in your center; the pressure. 

“Hurts,” you eke out, breath tight in your chest. 

You take a shallow breath. 

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, stroking over your arms, your shoulders—petting you. 

You narrow your eyes in another weak glare. 

“You’re being cruel again.” You get out.

“Tell me where,” he murmurs. 

“My lower back—“ you manage to get out, squirming again, “my—my hips,” 

He hums lightly in praise and then coaxes, “lay on your stomach?” 

You shake your head sharply, “no—what are you going to do?”

“Massage your lower back. Nothing more.” He urges you this time physically, jostling you from the cradle of his arms, from his lap. 

“I give you an inch and you take a mile,” you tell him, easing out of his embrace. 

He doesn’t let you go far. 

“Lay on your stomach for me.” He says again, voice warmer and soft to your ears, like oozing honey. 

Against all of the alarm bells rattling and clanging in your mind, you turn and lay on your belly. 

You fold your arms beneath your head. You rest your cheek against them. 

You try not to squirm as another cramp bears down on you, deep pressure pulsing in your lower hips. You twist a little, a breath of pain working its way out of you, hissing between your clenched teeth. 

Suguru takes position behind you and panic seizes you the moment that he straddles the back of your thighs. He almost—

“Suguru—” you warn and the sound is half growl, half whine. Your voice is torn by something terrible and raw. Fear. Anger. 

“I’m keeping my word,” he soothes and in a moment, his big hands are fitting to your lower back. You are so tense, you think you’re going to shake apart again, so tense that you’re going to splinter and crack under the pressure. You hold perfectly still. 

But just like before, all he does is move his hand over the length of your back. 

He coos. 

He hushes when you make a noise. 

He soothes. 

His hands, warm and firm, work their way through stiff muscles, through the awful pain of the cramps. 

Slowly, you begin to melt into the bed beneath you. Your head lolls deeper into your folded arms. Your eyes grow heavy, lashes sinking and fluttering, like wings now soaking wet—trying, and failing, to rise.

His hands are careful around the contours of you. He rubs at your neck, but is cautious of your scent glands, and then he dips back down the small arch and curve of your back to dig his thumbs into the meat of your lower back. 

It feels good.

And the way he rumbles softly to you, little words of praise or comfort—makes something tightly woven begin to slowly unravel inside of you. You sink into the bed, into his hands that press and massage. 

Your body flares into a dull throb. 

You try not to squirm.

There’s a deep, horrible pressure between your legs. It’s an ache. A bundle of muscles on the inside of you, squirming and cramping down around nothing—shifting the bones around of your pelvis around, turning your insides over—all in need of—

In need of—

Your head is foggy. 

You arch a little into his hands, into his touch, like a cat finally enjoying itself. 

“There,” Suguru murmurs and he’s leaning over you slightly, “feels better when you give in, doesn’t it?” 

His scent is strong. 

You go bleary with it all.

Another cramp twists up your insides. The aching inside you pulls taut.

You roll over onto your back beneath him, belly up and vulnerable. Suguru lifts himself away only momentarily to allow you to do it. And then you’re gazing up at him, reaching for him.

“Suguru—“ your voice pitches, cracks on a desperate, upwards note.

Your fingers tighten in the front of his clothing.

“—need you,” 

A hint of a smile. 

“But I’m right here.” He tells you, voice lilting with false naïveté.

Your blood sings.

“Don’t be cruel,” you beg again, “you know what I mean—“

“I’m afraid I don’t, darling.” 

Tears suddenly build again, the pressure of them sharp and cutting. More pressure in your poor body. More aching and pain. 

You twist a little beneath him, hips arching up on their own, searching—

“Suguru,” you whine, pulling at his clothes, pawing at him. And then a word that splinters out unintentionally, “please—“ 

“Please, what?” He asks, but his eyes are gleaming and sharp. 

You curse low and he laughs softly, even as your nails dig into his bicep, his shoulder. 

Still, you swallow down all your shyness and fear and embarrassment. You pull at him. 

“Please touch me?” You whisper. “It hurts so bad.” 

Another shift and squirm of your hips, your body. 

“Touch you?” He asks in return, but he’s so—so smug about it. “Is a massage not enough?”

Your anger spikes sharply and you suddenly tighten your hold on him, dig into skin, try to bleed and mark. You hitch your hips up against his and feel—

Feel how hard he is. You tighten your leg around his waist. 

“Stop tormenting me.”

Suguru goes perfectly still despite your moving and twisting, hips rocking up against his own. 

He detangles you, sitting up to look down on you, pulling his hips away from yours. You squabble to pull him back, digging nails into his muscled forearms. “Suguru—“ you whine, “isn’t this what you wanted?” 

He takes a slow breath in through his nose and you think he’s trying to steady himself. He huffs it out. His eyes are so dark—darker than you’ve ever seen before. 

“Of course it’s what I wanted,” he tells you and his voice is low, a soft rasp, as he carefully unlatches your hold on him. He presses your hands down into the bed, pins you easily. You melt into the hold blearily, squirming so that you might feel him where you need him—

“But it isn’t what you wanted.” He tells you, voice just a husk. His eyes are lidded as you find them, burning, “remember?” 

“Suguru—“

“I promised you.” He continues, “I wouldn’t do a thing, not until you were clear headed.” 

You rear back, “what?” 

“Are you really so surprised?” He asks, voice lilting and for a moment you grasp to understand him, wading in dark waters, lost. “I warned you, last night.”

 Through the fog of your mind, it slowly becomes clear.

He led you here to suffer, with no intention of helping you. 

You have walked directly into his trap.

I would never beg, you’d told him.

But he’d made you hear him, loud and clear, while you were in your right mind. 

If only to throw the words back in your face now.

Your gaze sharpens on him.

You squirm, fighting his hold until he releases your wrists.

“You’re cruel.” You hiss with as much venom you can muster. “You did this on purpose.” 

“Perhaps only slightly.” 

You lash out; you strike him. Solidly, your palm connects to his cheek. It cracks to the side, skin blossoming pink almost instantly.

Through the curtain of his hair, you see the sliver of a smug smile. The smarting of his cheek. 

“Such a brat,” he rasps and when he pins you this time, there is a strange, unnerving gleam in his eye.

“I should punish you worse for that, hm? You’ve always done better with a guiding hand.” He says.

“You’re punishment enough.” You growl in his face, twisting and turning, trying to dislodge the hold he has on you. The one he’s always had on you. You strain and struggle, wrestling with it, with him. 

“The only one who has punished you is yourself.” He replies, letting you fuss and fight, “if you had just given in to what you so clearly want—told me, admitted to it, I could’ve been sharing this with you.” 

Then he really exudes his strength, stopping your wrestling almost seamlessly. You cry out with the way he holds you. 

“You don’t know my punishments—you only know your own.” 

When your eyes meet his, there is a wild gleam to them, one that sparks and sweeps the heat inside of you into an inferno. 

“If I suffer this week, I’ll make you suffer, too.” You finally promise.

Suguru smiles, the curve of it sharp and dark like a sickle, a crescent moon. 

“You can certainly try.” He agrees and finally rolls off of you. 

Cold air sweeps in, leaving you bereft and aching, strangely startled and alone. 

He stands. “I’m going to cook for you and then I’ll feed you.” His eyes flicker over you, a mess in his sheets, “I expect the glass of water to be finished when I’ve returned.” 

You open your mouth to growl—

“You’ll need the strength,” he then says lightly, “if you’re to make me suffer at all this week.”

There’s a new note in his scent, you catch it now in his absence. It lingers in his place; spiced tobacco. It's warm and thick on the tongue, strange and heady, and—unfortunately, miserably alluring.

The door you have slammed so many times now, remains ajar, wide open, when he finally leaves the bedroom. There is nothing between you.

And you think something is now ajar inside of you, too, wide open, and ripe for the taking.

[tarot-archives]

Can I get a uhhhhhh laios with a guy/gn reader who has an equally autistic special interest in general biology and ecosystems that would 100% encompass monsters as well? Asking for a friend that just happens to be me (stg idk if I wanna smooch laios or be him tbh lmao)

an: though i haven’t written for an autistic yn, i’ll try to make it realistic. if i’d done something wrong, please tell me. i focused more on general dungeon ecology for y/n.

if marcille is studying about dungeon ecosystems while laios is more interested in monsters you would be the best of both worlds.

there’s just something thrilling about dungeon ecology, how it all interacts, every thing that fall under it and so on and so forth.

you’re a tall-man researcher, using every bit of your time to find out more about dungeons, and not just the ones in melini. it would have been good to join the magic academy, but since you don’t posses any talent for magic, you can’t enter.

it made you sad since they had a dungeon making class.

nevertheless, it won’t stomp your dreams of researching! you’ve read and copied countless of books you can get your hands on. eventually you settled in meleni where a newly discovered dungeon was found.

your room was filled with countless of journals, trinkets from dungeons and volumes of books you read many time before.

and on your first dungeon party, you were very ecstatic. too bad you had to leave because they’d only go to the easier upper floors. you wanted to head to the lowest level after all!

and that’s where you meet up with the touden party!

you will love marcille’s vast dungeon knowledge. she would love to teach you new things. much to chilchuck’s dismay, you have boosted her ego. endless praises for marcille and simply doting around her because she’s filled with knowledge.

“ah, long lifespans are so great. i’d spend all my life dedicating to dungeon ecology if i could” -y/n after every lecture apparently.

then monster facts with laios will be endless. he lent you his dungeon food guide and you surprisingly have a copy too! you took notes from the things he had written in the margin. much to chilchuck’s demise (again) both you and laios keep on talking and he can’t sleep :((

“eating monsters? can’t say i have thought about it, but do you ever think about their nutritional values? the high level of mana concentration must vary from non-dungeon born same species! This needed to be compared and studied!” -y/n when laios introduced his monster eating thoughts.

toshiro will have another person to ask about his life in the east. but he likes how you keep more time to yourself writing in the journals. he finds your drawing to be artistic. after seeing your difficulties with papers, toshiro will teach you about yotsume toji—a book binding process from his country. he’s happy to see you using it after he taught you.

though you won’t talk with namari much, you admire he strength as a dwarf. she keeps her past to herself, which you at least respect. but you’d talk about the different weapons used and other things she did as a blacksmith. her knowledge on materials is very handy. you write about the different dungeon materials on your journal along with the best weapons against monsters.

chilchuck, our lock expert, and the most unknown member of your party… you admire his knowledge on traps and have written about his experiences with various dungeon traps and ways of disarming them.

falin, she joins you as you ask questions to marcille or laios. she listens to you talk about your dungeon experiences and she tells you about her’s. you let her read the journals you made along the way.

On the day falin was eaten by the dragon, your journal wasn’t transported with you. So now, you join laios to rescue his sister and to save you journals!!

Request? Open!