#Strategies for peaceful sleep

[guiasmaternos]

Unraveling the Mystery: Decoding Baby Sleep with Love

Explore the fascinating universe of baby sleep with our tips and insights. Discover secrets to establish peaceful routines and ensure restful nights for the whole family.

The Nighttime Sanctuary: Unveiling the Secrets of Baby Sleep Welcome, adventurous parents, to a journey through the most magical (and challenging) corners of parenthood – baby sleep. If you find yourself wondering, “How can I help my baby sleep?” know that you’re not alone in this nightly enigma. Let’s explore the secrets of baby sleep together, shedding light on the darkness of the night. The…

[mariniacipher]

andrei’s thoughts about wanting glory and wanting it at any cost, even if he’d have to give up his father, sister and wife sure are… something

talk abt the desperate desire to be recognised and known, ig

[togglesbloggle]

My boyfriend has really vivid, elaborate dreams. He’ll often wake up and talk about some grand narrative- travel, exploration, politics, performances. I’ve always been a little jealous, he can hold really good plots together for them sometimes.

But anyway, this does have a downside; vivid, elaborate dreams make for vivid, elaborate nightmares. I can usually tell when it’s one of those nights, since he grinds his teeth pretty badly.

I was never quite sure what to do when I knew he was having a bad time of it, though the grinding alone was enough to worry me and push me towards intervening. I used to just shake him gently, hope to rouse him just enough to reset the dream or something, but it wasn’t too effective and anyway waking him up all the time isn’t good for rest.

I’m rather proud of the strategy I eventually settled on: gently, so as not to wake him up, I’d lay one arm across his hands, wrapping his fingers around me so that he was holding on. Nightmares being nightmares, I can usually count on a pretty tight grip when this happens.

It may seem a little odd, but consider that holding on to something with both hands is typically a very agentic frame of mind. We hold on to things that give us power, in one way or another, and possessing objects often makes us feel powerful in some respects. That has consequences, even for a dreaming mind.

I knew it was working when he woke up rather mystified from one such dream, and told me that he’d been running through the caverns of some dungeon or cave system, pursued by monsters, but then all of a sudden he was holding a giant anime sword and fought them off instead. So I got to be a sword for him that night, I was delighted.

I don’t usually get to know exactly what happened, since even for a very vivid dreamer like Ritter, nine tenths of these things get forgotten. But I know I’ve been things like door handles, steering wheels, stuff like that. And even when I don’t know what I am to him, he doesn’t grind his teeth nearly as much- the sleep is deeper and more peaceful, so I get plenty of feedback that it’s working.

It’s such a perfect encapsulation of love in microcosm, isn’t it? No matter how much you mean to them, and how much they mean to you, the gap between two conscious lives is fundamentally separating you. But fundamental does not mean insurmountable. There’s this whole world in him, full of dreams and perspectives that I’ll never truly experience. But I will be a part of those worlds all the same, finding little ways here and there to make sure that the dreams of me make him a better, stronger, and happier person.

Or at least, so one hopes. It’s a difficult challenge, and things often go awry. But usually you get at least a little lucky.

[mde-creative-video]

Improving Sleep: Tips for Better Sleep Quality and Sleep Hygiene

[kidsinnowadays]

The Ultimate Guide to Peaceful Nights: 6 Pro Tips for Crafting Your Ideal Bedtime Routine

Learn how to create the perfect bedtime routine for peaceful nights and better sleep. This post shares 6 top techniques for winding down, reducing stress, and getting quality rest. #BedtimeRoutine #ParentingTips #PeacefulNights #SleepWell

Getting enough high-quality sleep is essential for our health and wellbeing. However, many of us struggle to wind down and fall asleep at night. Establishing a consistent bedtime routine can help signal to our brains and bodies that it’s time to relax and prepare for rest. An effective bedtime routine helps us mentally detach from the stresses of the day, lower our heart rate and core body…

[say-al0e]

Hold Tight

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18. Minors, DNI!

Summary: Aemond has long sought comfort in the arms of the madame at his lowest. Now, he has what he's so long craved; a loving wife who is happy to indulge him. Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, lactation kink, PinV, mention of Luke's death and the war, mentions of the madame, Aemond's a little soft. If you notice anything else, let me know and I'll tag it! Pairing: Aemond x pregnant, wife!Reader Word Count: 7.6k HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen knew the secrets of the Red Keep better than most.

As a child, he spent his days studying history and philosophy, learning the language of his ancestors or practicing with his blade, preparing himself for the future he knew awaited him. He kept to himself, tired easily of his brother’s torment and Helaena’s bugs - her riddles - and spent much of his idle time wandering the Keep.

Aegon was bold, slipping out of the gates with a command for the guard on watch to allow him and little regard for who knew. He used his power as the King’s eldest son, as the heir to the throne in the eyes of most, and came and went as he pleased. Helaena never left the Keep without supervision - never wanted to leave at all, really. And Aemond, as always, fell somewhere in between.

Many nights, when he found himself searching for sleep that refused to come, Aemond roamed the labyrinthine passages Maegor the Cruel left behind. He learned most of them, slipping in and out of the Keep as he pleased, and found the ones that he could someday use to his advantage.

Most apartments in the Keep contained an alternate entrance - or exit, if need be - that few knew existed. The royal apartments, he found, were most likely to contain them; Aegon’s, Helaena’s, his mother’s, his, yours.

Though, their existence was a secret he had yet to reveal to anyone, including you.

For as long as he could remember, Aemond made use of the passages. It was not often that he visited the city - he’d never been fond of it, never cared for the revelry in the same way Aegon did - nor did he spend much time by the water. The Keep was his home and where he felt safest. But he slipped from his room to the field where Vhagar resided from time to time, or to the Kingswood, just for a moment of peace.

However, after his thirteenth name day - and Aegon’s insistent ‘instruction’ - Aemond found himself returning to the city more than he ever had.

The unmarked door, one he’d grown to need and hate in equal measure, was his destination. It called to him, a siren song in the dead of night, on his darkest days and it seemed as if each day had grown darker than the last. The incident with Lucerys, the bitter sting of his mother’s wrath, the whispers beginning to fill the ears of all who might hear; every bit his fault, and every bit beckoning him closer to that door.

Aemond lingered there for a few long moments, moments he dared not count, as a war raged in his mind. Seconds could have passed, even hours, as he hid in the depths of the shadows. Many and more moons had passed since he last stepped foot into the city, since he last visited this place, but the song drew him closer.

There was comfort to be found inside, one he once craved so desperately, but he now knew better.

Love, affection, eluded him for so long that he saw this place - the woman inside, the gold he paid her - as his only option, the only chance to feel what others took for granted. A gentle hand, a soft word, a kind smile; he wanted little else and knew she would give it to him. 

Inside those walls, the world ceased to exist. There would be no mention of his nephew, his brother, his wife. The woman inside would not ask, would not mention the whispers he knew she’d already heard, and would only listen to whatever he decided to share. There would be no strategy, no attempt to comfort him with words he knew she didn’t mean. Instead, she would hear him confess his gravest sins before attempting to comfort him with the warmth of her mouth around his cock, the pads of her fingers tracing the tense muscle of his shoulder when he curled into her after.

Spending the night there, in her arms - no matter how tempting - would only add to the oppressive weight already crushing his chest. It was a truth he’d come to learn now that he knew real love, true affection, a reality he’d faced.

Despite himself, the tricks his mind played, the comfort he found there had never been real. With his body curled into hers, her fingers carding through his hair and his breath shuddering as he finally allowed himself to feel, he willed it to be a true comfort. He once considered this place, her, the pinnacle of vulnerability, of safety, of comfort.

Now, he knew there was none to be found there.

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could give him, that would provide any comfort at all. The siren song had ended, faded into the din of the city surrounding him, and Aemond could hear a new call. This song was sweeter, gentler, had blown in on a strong wind and erased all other noise the moment he fell in love with you.

Though the marriage was one of convenience at first, an arrangement made by your father and Aemond’s grandsire - his hand for the full strength of your house, when the time came - it had grown into something more.

For much of his life, Aemond refused to entertain the idea that any marriage he found himself in would be one filled with love. Marriage was bound to duty, something done for the good of your house - the good of the realm, in his case - and love meant little. Most lords disliked their wives, took other women to bed at any given chance, and the wives often rejoiced as they were no longer forced to share a bed.

The most he’d ever hoped for was a wife he could tolerate.

Aemond shared little of his mother’s faith, even less of her devotion to prayer and piety, but he often found himself thanking the gods for bringing you to him.

Hidden in the Red Keep, very likely in his own bed as you’d taken to spending more nights with him than alone, he imagined you asleep beneath the soft linen. Very clearly, he could see the white of your nightgown - a beautiful, soft material he found himself clutching between calloused fingers as oft as you would allow, drifting to sleep with the feeling of it soothing his warm skin - as your head rested on his pillow in a desperate bid to surround yourself with his scent.

That image - the picture of you he now saw so clearly, stamped in place of the door he’d been staring at without really seeing - was enough to break the invisible bond that kept him cemented in place. 

Without sparing the door another glance, Aemond turned and began his retreat to the Keep.

Each step through the city was quicker than the last, eager to return to the quiet of home - the solace that awaited him in his chambers. Aemond knew the route by heart now, could find his way back with his remaining eye closed, and breathed a sigh of relief as he wound through the hidden passages that lead back to his comfort.

The moment the door settled in place, clicked shut with a soft gust of cool air, Aemond crossed the expanse of the room carefully. His footsteps were light, a barely there sound in the quiet of the room, and he was glad for his caution as he perched on the arm of a chair. His gaze fell to the bed he’d grown so used to sleeping alone in and he felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the sight of another body making itself at home, directly in the middle of the mattress.

Just as he’d expected, you rested there comfortably. The white of your nightgown stood in stark contrast to the deep green of his sheets, a bright spot in the otherwise dim tapestry of his room - his life. 

Aemond sat there for a few long moments, time beginning to slow as he drank in the sight of you. The Keep was quiet, save for the odd shuffle of guards or servants, and he could hear the soft sound of your breathing as you shifted. 

Though you rested near the center of his bed, your head on his pillow and your hand outstretched - reaching for him, despite his absence - your brows furrowed with a discomfort he’d never seen. Beneath the soft bedding, he could see the curve of your body, resting on your side, and the shift of your hand as it lifted to cradle your stomach. The motion set him on edge, drew a sharp breath from him, and earned a fluttering of your lashes as some semblance of wakefulness returned to you.

“Aemond?” you questioned, voice still so soft despite the sleep clinging to you. 

“Mm.” He hummed, voice equally soft in the dim light of the room - the lone candle you’d left burning, a beacon for him to find his way in the dark. There was little doubt where your thoughts had begun to drift, the questions you wanted to ask; where he’d gone, how he felt, what came next? But he could not yet describe his feelings in words.

Before you could so much as part your lips, he sighed. “I went to see about Vhagar.” The lie slipped from his lips easily, believable enough, and his eye fluttered shut in a sort of relief - or, perhaps, shame, guilt - when you made a sympathetic noise. “I did not mean to wake you.”

As he stood, fingers beginning to work at the buttons of his doublet, you hummed. “’Twas not you,” you informed him, a sigh of your own escaping as you sat up against the headboard. “Your babe is restless and will not allow me to find comfort.” Aemond watched for a moment, keen eye following every move you made, as your hand returned to your growing belly. 

The babe you carried was now very visible, obvious to all who spared you a glance, and the sight was one that enraptured him and terrified him in equal measure. Aemond was a proud man, one who was eager to carry on the Targaryen line, but his family was not one of love. There was no comfort, no happiness, to be found in the Keep - none to be found in the arms of his mother, certainly not his father - and he often feared the same fate awaited his own children. But the soft smile that curved the plush of your lips each time you rested your hand on the swell of your belly and the delighted laughter you breathed each time one of Helaena’s babes brought you into their playtime served as another light, shining in the dark; a spot of hope that, perhaps, his children may know a love he never had.

Aemond’s eye finally lifted to yours, met your concerned glance with an even one of his own after a beat of silence that stretched on almost too long, before he shook his head. “My babe? I seem to recall that we both had a hand in his creation,” he reminded you, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he removed his breeches and stood in nothing but his small clothes.

“Mm, perhaps,” you hummed, though the glimmer in your eyes told him you remembered very well. “But her nocturnal nature is solely your own. At this hour, she is yours and yours alone,” you teased, smiling softly as he padded across the stone floor to make his way to bed.

“Still insistent our first babe will be a girl?”

“A mother knows,” you hummed, watching as he slipped into bed beside you. His violet eye raked over your form, still so easily visible in the dim light of the room, and you bit back a sigh as you reached for him. “Come here.”

With little coaxing, Aemond shifted closer to you. The shift of his body was easy, almost as natural as breathing now, and you hummed in encouragement as you pushed away the bedding to allow his head to settle on your plush thighs. His favored position was resting with his head on your chest, face tipped to the crook of your neck, but the swell of your belly and the sensitivity in your breasts left you both with little choice but to find an alternative.

The beat of his heart began to slow when your hand fell from your belly to his hair, fingers softly carding through the silver strands - now free of the tie he kept in it and the lace of his eyepatch. “What happened, my love?”

Silence settled thick over the room and he knew that you weren’t asking where he’d gone. Though you worried, his disappearance was of little concern to you in that moment. The truth would out eventually, he would admit his shame sooner rather than late - as he so often seemed to with you - but this question afforded him a bit more time.

This question was the one he dreaded, the one that truly meant; what happened that night with Lucerys?

“I sincerely regret that business with Luke,” he admitted, voice a whisper in the still of the room. “I… I was angry, but I only meant to scare him. I did not mean to end his life. But Vhagar, my temper; I lost control.” The confession, whispered to you in the only place he’d ever known true safety, felt like a weight off his chest. It left behind a crater, a chasm that he knew would be difficult to fill, but sharing the secret with you made it easier for him to draw his breath. It escaped as a soft sigh, a puff of air blown across your thighs - now exposed, fabric of your nightgown pushed out of the way to allow his own hand to fall to the plush of your thigh. “Aegon is shortsighted. He wishes to throw feasts, to celebrate bloodshed. Mother is angry because she knows what must come next. Peace is no longer an option.”

Aemond’s confession lingered in the air for a long moment. It reverberated in his ears, rang like the bells that tolled on the day of his father’s death, but you calmed the noise with a quiet sigh.

“I don’t believe peace was ever an option,” you confessed, carefully brushing silver strands away from his sapphire eye. “This war started long ago, before you or Aegon or Rhaenyra were even a thought. It will be convenient, for some, to blame you and Vhagar, but this began before you took the sky together. And someday, there will be none who remember what started it or why it was fought. History will only remember the bloodshed that we must now bear the brunt of.”

No response came to him, lost in the thoughts that swept through his mind like a raging storm, but he knew you didn’t expect one. The words were meant to be a balm, soothing the soul he bared only for you, and he took them as such as he allowed his eye to fall closed.

There was something to be said of routine, then, as you followed the familiar dance that started months ago. 

Silence lingered for a beat, long enough for his breathing to even and your own to grow deeper - always so shallow now, he noticed, almost labored as your stomach grew ever rounder - before you spoke again.

“I spent the day with the twins,” you informed him, fingers still softly working through the strands of his hair. “Helaena wanted to take Dreamfyre out so I sat with them and we watched her fly. I think Jaehaerys will love being a dragonrider, like Helaena, but it seems Jaehaera has no interest.”

“And Maelor?” 

Aemond’s question was reflexive, asked without thought, but you took a moment to consider it. “Too young to tell,” you decided, allowing your hand to drift to his cheek and brush the sharp line of his jaw. “He has no reaction to the stink of dragon, unlike his sister, but he may, later on. Aegon wishes to take him flying on Sunfyre but Helaena has forbidden it.” Another moment of quiet, then, before you hummed once more. “Has an egg been chosen for our babe’s cradle? Or do you wish our daughter to be like her father and claim a fearsome old beast?”

The reminder of the babe you swelled with drew a shuddering breath from him as Aemond struggled to keep the grasp he held on your thigh light. “Our son will have an egg,” he promised, “but they do not always hatch. He might try for one of the unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. Vermithor is nearly as fearsome as Vhagar, nearly as old.”

‘If we can pry Dragonstone from Rhaenyra’s hands,’ went unsaid, though you both allowed the thought to cross your minds.

That thought did not linger, however, as you allowed your hand to drift from his cheek to his shoulder. Soft fingers caressed his skin, warm and strong, and Aemond relaxed into your touch. “How can I help you, my love? I mislike seeing you this way.”

More often than not these days, Aemond found himself here. Many and more nights had been spent curled into the curve of your body, his head resting against your skin as you stroked his hair and spoke softly to him, but they seemed to grow more frequent. Aemond knew that you were observant, that you’d realized he seemed to need your embrace more and more with each passing day, but even he could not articulate why.

Perhaps the weight of his inheritance had finally caught up to him. Or, perhaps it was the knowledge of all he’d done in preparation for his brother’s reign. He even considered it was the possibility that he found himself desiring his brother’s crown, the one Aegon had no desire for.

In truth, he knew that it was you.

The moment you joined hands, the moment you became his wife, Aemond began to feel the walls he’d spent so long building crumble around him. You chipped away at the slowly, almost imperceptibly, but they toppled all the same.

With every moment spent together, with every word of affection you shared or every soft brush of your fingertips across his skin, Aemond felt his world shifting.

Everything he’d ever considered important remained, still mired in the golden glory of his inheritance, only you now loomed over it all. All with the babe you now carried, his babe, alongside you.

“You are with child,” he whispered, shifting to lie on his back and glance up at you.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you returned, drily. When he fixed you with a look, violet eye unamused, you sighed. “I am with child,” you agreed, free hand falling to your belly as you stroked his hair once more. “Our child. That is what we wanted, is it not?”

“It is.” That was always the plan; get married, have children, carry on the Targaryen legacy. Only, the plan had never included losing his eye and spilling the first blood that began a war - killing a child, a nephew.

Aemond could not bring himself to say those words aloud, however, as your fingers carefully carded through his hair, he knew that you understood. There was a fear you both shared, one that had grown heavier since the incident with Lucerys, but he dared not speak it and neither did you. Losing a babe was something that frightened you both - him, nearly as much as losing you in the process - but he willed himself to push that concern to the back of his mind.

Instead, he searched desperately for a thought more pleasant.

Initially, when your betrothal was announced and preparations began for the wedding, he heard murmurs of those who pitied you. It was a shame, they all said, that such a pretty maiden - known for her kindness, her beauty, her wit - would be married to someone like him. He was, after all, noted for his sullen silence and impassive expression.

Everyone wondered how you might fare, locked away in the Keep as your husband-to-be rarely ventured outside its walls, just as Aemond wondered how he might tolerate a highborn lady who doubtlessly believed the whispers.

Those whispers had proven false - just as you’d proven that you never believed any of them.

Love, a curious thing he never hoped to find, bloomed between the two of you. It was not instant, as he learned you had hoped, but slow and cautious. Trust took time, vulnerability even more, but they came, eventually. And with them came a relationship that seemed to stun the whole of the realm into silence.

The pair of you were evenly matched: both highborn, well-educated and eager to continue learning; both fond of the quiet, though you had a natural charm and ability to pretend to enjoy banal chatter that he did not possess; both desperate for a love, a comfort, that you never found at home. There were many similarities, and more differences, but the love that bloomed brought you both a happiness you never knew possible.

And now, as you grew round with the evidence of your love, he discovered another feeling he never thought possible.

Aemond always found you beautiful - he agreed with the whispers of court, that you were much too beautiful to be chained to him for the rest of your life - and he spent the first few weeks of your courtship attempting to ignore his baser urges. There would be time enough for him to indulge in you, for him to see you as no other had ever seen you, but a desperate need for you began to take root then and had yet to release him from its iron grasp.

With every day that passed, Aemond wanted you even more.

Aegon often spoke of the joys of sex, the great pleasure he found in the Streets of Silk, and Aemond never quite believed him. The little experience he had - courtesy of his brother’s goading and gold coin - proved Aegon a liar. However, when Aemond found himself settled between your thighs, he finally believed his brother.

Now, there was little that settled him - anchored him to the moment and cleared his mind of all the noise - quite like losing himself in the throes of pleasure with you.

Since you began to swell with his child, your belly growing round and your tits beginning to spill from your gowns, Aemond found himself even more drawn to you - a feat he hadn’t believed possible. There was something so alluring about the sight of you, wandering the Keep dressed in the color of his house and bearing the most obvious sign that you were his, that it had begun growing maddening.

Luckily, you seemed to be just as desperate for him as he was for you.

The maesters assured you both that there was no harm to be done in satiating your urges and, though he was hesitant in the beginning, soon trusted they spoke nothing but the truth. Now, as he found himself eager for comfort - soft words, loving touches - he allowed himself to seek it in your embrace.

“Are you tired, ābrazyrys?” His question was soft, spoken into the silence that settled easily around you, and met with your hum.

“No.” It was a lie, he knew - could tell by the way your lashes fluttered and your fingers slowly brushed at his skin, the way your lips parted with badly concealed yawns - but you would not be swayed from allowing him whatever he wanted. “I’m here, my love,” you assured him, thumb caressing his cheek. “Take what you need.”

Aemond knew that your body was beginning to grow weary - he’d heard your whispered complaints to Helaena; how your back ached constantly, how your body felt heavier with every step, how even your softest gowns felt too rough on your sensitive skin - and nearly refused you as he had no desire to cause you pain. But the warmth of arousal had already entered his blood, burned beneath his skin, and the shift of your thighs beneath his head indicated that you felt it, too.

Rather than backing away, Aemond moved to sit up and crowded closer to you.

“Gevie,” he whispered, violet eye raking over your face as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. “Issa gevie ābrazyrys.” Aemond pressed his mouth to yours, then, and you swore you felt his lips curve into a soft smile as you leaned into him.

Aemond had softened some, over the course of your marriage. Though he remained himself, steadfast and strong in who he had become, the edges grew a little more polished. His touch was gentler, his words softer, his kiss less rushed, and you appreciated the effort he’d taken as he tipped his head to deepen the kiss. His hand descended, brushed the soft material of your nightgown as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you released a contented sigh.

The large expanse of his hand fell to your ribcage, just beneath the swell of your breast, and though you knew it was coming, you still gasped as his thumb brushed a sensitive nipple.

“I’m alright,” you assured him, the moment he broke the kiss - before he could ask. Your hand lifted to his cheek, thumb brushing his warm skin as you offered him a smile. “Sensitive, is all. The maesters told me it’s normal,” you explained, watching as his gaze fell to your breasts. “They… they also said stimulation may help,” you continued, fingers returning to his hair as his violet eye returned to meet yours.

“Stimulation?”

Aemond knew he hadn’t been subtle in the attention he paid your swelling breasts, in the way his gaze fell to them every time he found you bare between his sheets, but his skin burned with an embarrassed warmth and an overwhelming lust as he realized what you were offering.

“Mm,” you hummed, not bothering to hide your actions as you lifted the skirt of your nightgown higher up your thighs. “I tried, with my fingers, the way they instructed to no avail. Perhaps you have another idea, my love?”

For a brief moment, Aemond felt his head begin to swim. His thoughts muddled, each one making less sense than the last, but they all seemed to lead in the same direction. It was a desire he’d never dared speak aloud, one he barely allowed himself to consider, but the rounder you grew with his seed - the heavier your breasts grew - the harder it became for him to forget. 

Most nights, Aemond spent his time wrapped in your embrace. He enjoyed exploring your skin, mapping the soft expanse of your body with his hands and mouth, and had committed it all to memory. His words sometimes failed him, never quite capturing just how much you meant to him - just how deeply he loved you - but his touch never did. With a flick of his tongue or a brush of his fingers, with a snap of his hips or a soft press of his hand, he continued to find new ways to express himself. And when he’d gotten his fill of you, of hearing you cry his name and watching your body writhe with an exquisite pleasure only he could provide, he filled you with his seed before sometimes settling at your breast.

While he once feared you might find the act strange, that it might repulse you, you were eager to take him as he was. Any act that offered him comfort was one you allowed and the few times he curled into you, flushed body pressed to yours and mouth pressed to your breast, he felt nothing but your love.

As he swallowed, hesitant, you offered him a smile. “You will not harm me or the babe, my love,” you assured him, fingers caressing his jaw as they began to drift lower. “If anything, you will be helping me.” When he frowned, uncertain - disbelieving - you hummed. “Feel,” you instructed, reaching to guide the hand on your rib cage to your breast. It was engorged, heavy and warm in his palm, and you sighed as his thumb mindlessly brushed the nipple once more. “When the babe is born, she will have a nursemaid and I will be left with swollen, leaking tits.”

Aemond acted without thought in that moment and allowed himself to take what you offered so freely. His hands lifted to the straps of your thin nightgown and brushed them off your shoulders, giving him an opportunity to free you from the confines of the fabric.

Pregnancy had changed your body, in a way that terrified him at first - something so delicate now rested within you, a life he helped create - but now drove him to the brink of madness.

A searing warmth, all encompassing and hotter than any dragon fire, enveloped him. And a single glance at your face proved that you did, too. You felt the heat of him, the warmth of his palms - of his heavy gaze, his lithe body - and feared you were only moments from begging him to act when he took mercy on you. The gift you offered, the act you so willingly encouraged him to indulge in, was one he would never refuse.

His touch had never been exceedingly gentle, nor was it particularly hesitant. Aemond was a man assured, confident. There were moments he could be tender, even teasing, but none compared to the moment at hand.

The press of his hands to your sides, just beneath your rib cage, was soft. It was a featherlight pressure, one you feared you might not have felt were it not for the overwhelming sensitivity of your skin, and you sighed contentedly as your hand returned to the silver strands of his hair.

Slowly, and with a caution you’d never before seen in your husband, Aemond’s hands lifted. 

Aemond was almost tentative, careful, in the way he touched you. His violet eye remained fixed on your face - watching, waiting for any hint of discomfort - and you offered him an encouraging smile as you leaned into his touch. “I am not fragile,” you reminded him, a small grin forming at the words he’d once used to declare his surprise at your steadfastness, your unwavering strength. “I will not break.”

A moment passed, in which you watched your husband gather himself, before his hands lifted to your breasts. He seemed to marvel at the weight of them, the warmth of your skin - usually so cool in the depths of his chambers - and hummed.

As he leaned in, gaze finally dipping to your breasts, you expected him to press his mouth to your skin - bury his face in the crook of your neck, press his lips to your collarbone and work his way down - but you were surprised when he tipped his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. Though he never left you wanting, never left you doubting his desire for you, this kiss stole your breath.

The kiss was unlike any other; fierce, passionate. It fanned the flames of desire already burning within you and turned it into an uncontrollable blaze. As eager as you always felt for his touch, the fierceness of his kiss left desperate tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

Calloused hands - toughened by years of swordplay and dragon riding - began to explore in earnest.

Every press of his palm, every swipe of his fingers drew soft noises from your lips, cries that Aemond swallowed eagerly. He relished in them, in the noises only he managed to draw from you, and you felt the evidence of his pleasure press into your thigh.

For a moment, you wondered if he might refuse your offer. However, the thought disappeared with a swipe of his thumb over the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond allowed you to break the kiss, lips parting in a sharp gasp, and wasted little time in pressing his mouth to the curve of your jaw. There seemed to be little hurry in his actions, the way he nipped and kissed the soft skin of your throat, but you could feel the tension in his corded muscles as he crowded into you. He seemed to be nearly vibrating with desire, a tremble that made you lightheaded - an awe that you could produce such a reaction in such a man - and you struggled to catch your breath as he began to descend.

There was a brief worry - a split second thought that never fully formed - that he might avoid your eye in the way he had the very first time, when there was no babe and no real reason to suckle at your breast. However, it was quickly driven away as your husband’s violet eye lifted to meet yours.

Soft kisses were pressed to your skin, across the tops of your breasts and between them - violet eye fluttering as he paused only to marvel at the newfound heat emanating from your skin.

“The maesters told me I would remain warm until the babe is here. They jest it is because I carry the blood of the dragon,” you informed him, hand falling to the back of his head to cradle him close. “I’m not sure I mind. But, tell me, husband; what do you think?”

Though your husband had always been a man of few words, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The words you spoke meant little to him, it seemed, as he found himself capable of only a simple reply. “I shall keep you warm and full,” he promised.

Already, he could see you swollen with his seed - with the blood of the dragon - again and again. He would see you round with his babe as many times as you would allow and you could see the promise in his eye as he glanced up at you. “Perhaps it is good there will be a nursemaid, then,” you hummed, unable to bite back your grin as Aemond’s mouth pressed just beneath your breast. “So you may spend as much time at my breast as you’d like.”

In the moment, the present mattered little. All that had come to pass ceased to exist and all that might come felt good, sweet. In reality, the future seemed bleak, but in the moment, there was a future. And all either of you wanted was to pretend.

Without sparing another moment, Aemond’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple.

The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, was cautious at first - desperate to keep from hurting you, to keep from causing any pain - and you hummed contentedly as his eye fluttered shut. Your fingers carded through his hair, touch as delicate as his own, as your free hand fell to his chest.

Aemond’s heart thrummed beneath your fingertips, the beat of it as erratic as you’d ever felt it, and you felt your own beat in time with his. 

No part of you ever imagined you would find yourself here - in bed with your dragon rider, the fierce swordsman and Targaryen prince, suckling at your breast - but there was no dismay in it. The pair of you were two halves of a whole: him, desperate to be wanted, needed, loved; you, desperate to love, to want, to need. There was a balance, an equal give and take, that saw you both offering the other what they desired freely. You understood one another in a way no one ever had and you were grateful for that understanding as Aemond attempted to crowd closer.

“My sweet love,” you whispered, fingers brushing the silver strands from his cheek. “This is what we both needed,” you assured him, voice a quiet lilt in the dim of his chambers. “Feels so much better.”

A pleased hum - proud, soothed by your praise - escaped your husband as his free hand returned to your thigh. His fingers pressed into the plush skin, anchoring himself to you, and you sighed at the touch. His hand was so close to where you wanted him and you asked without sparing it a second thought.

“Aemond,” you whispered, hand reaching for his - fingers clasping around his wrist and dragging it higher. “Touch me, please. Need you.”

Calloused fingers slipped between your thighs, lips curving into a smile at how readily you parted for him. His touch paused only for a moment, as did the gentle pull of his lips at your breast, as he seemed to realize the state you were in.

Slick pooled between your thighs and Aemond readily gave you what you wanted. His fingers swiped through your arousal, gathering your slick, before his thumb found the all-too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The wet slip of his fingers was self-assured, an action he’d taken a thousand times before, and it seemed as if he knew your own body better than you did. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filled your veins and blazed up your spine, as he rolled the numb beneath his thumb for a moment before abandoning it to press his fingers to your slick opening.

“You enjoy this,” he accused, finally allowing his violet eye to open as he released your nipple and urged you to turn so he could reach the other. “As much as I do,” he continued, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I do,” you promised, sigh escaping your lips as you felt his long fingers press into you - curling, parting, manipulating in the way only he knew. “I have never turned you away,” you reminded him, words ending in a breathless moan. “If you are as depraved as you imagine yourself, then consider me your equal.”

Aemond seemed pleased by your assertion, proud to have found a wife who not only indulged him, but understood him. And you were pleased, as he returned his mouth to your aching breast, that he trusted you enough to allow you this glimpse. 

The press of his mouth to your breast was growing ever eager, desperate for whatever you could give him - and, as it turned out, was not much yet, though you knew he would patiently await the day it would be more. It was soothing, almost, in a way that eased the ache you’d begun growing weary of, and you parted your lips to thank him for it the moment his thumb pressed to your aching clit.

A keening moan escaped, a noise that might’ve brought an embarrassed heat to your skin in the beginning of your marriage, but such noises were familiar now and your husband reveled in them.

Some small part of you wondered if he meant to have you both finish this way, him with his mouth pressed to your breast and you with his fingers curling into your heat. Only, he gave you little time to wonder as he lifted his head to glance at you fully.

“I know your body aches,” he hummed, press of his fingers slowing - thumb stilling on your clit, earning a displeased whine. “Do you think you can take my cock, my love? I have no desire to cause you discomfort.”

“You will,” you huffed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging - just slightly, “if you do not fuck me.”

Aemond laughed, then, a sound you imagined few others had ever heard, before pulling away from you. You whined at the loss of his touch, the emptiness that filled you and the cool that suddenly chilled you, before your attention was stolen. His lips wrapped around his fingers, capturing the taste of you on his tongue, and you swallowed hard to keep from lunging at him as he settled against the headboard himself.

“Come here,” he beckons, hand already reaching for you hip and hauling you onto his lap. “So fucking perfect.”

Before the babe, before your stomach began to swell, this was a rarity. Aemond preferred you beneath him, pressed into his mattress as he left you seeing stars, but he’d admitted he could see the beauty of the position you now found yourselves in.

As expected, the moment you settled atop him, his gaze returned to your breasts. “One may think you’d never seen tits before,” you teased, not bothering to hide your grin as Aemond rolled his eye. “I jest, my love,” you hummed, reaching out for him - encouraging him to return his mouth to your breast. “It helped,” you assured him. “They no longer ache as they did when I woke. Thank you.”

Aemond lifted a hand to the back of your neck, then, and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. The kiss was more familiar, something you’d grown to expect - grown to love - and you felt yourself melting into it as he crowded you closer.

The swell of your belly made it difficult to press your body as close to his as you would’ve liked, as close as he would’ve liked - in the privacy of his chambers, beneath the sheets of his bed, Aemond liked you a close as he could have you - but it was enough. His hands explored your warm skin, slick beneath his fingers and no longer aching in the way you’d complained earlier, and you relaxed into his touch as his hand slipped between your spread thighs once more.

Though you expected his fingers to return to your center, Aemond’s hand fell to his cock. You breathed something akin to a sigh of relief as you felt the tip glide through your slick folds, catching on your aching clit and drawing another keening moan that he eagerly swallowed.

The head of his cock nudged your slick opening, nestled there as you rested on your knees, before he lifted his hand to your hip and pulled you down.

A familiar stretch, a familiar warmth, captured the whole of your attention as you sank down onto Aemond’s cock.

Every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock - every ridge, every vein - was heightened by your sensitivity and your eyes nearly rolled back as you sank onto him fully. He filled you wonderfully, perfectly, and reveled in you saying so. Only, he barely allowed you a moment at all to speak before his mouth returned to your breasts.

Each sensation was overwhelming in its own right, every touch more consuming than the last, but the combination of it all had you seeing stars.

The warmth of Aemond’s body pressed to yours, the way his muscles clenched as he rocked his hips up to meet yours, the insistent press of his hand - fingers dimpling your skin as he held you tight - was all magnified by the warmth of his lips pressed to your breast. Even as his hips snapped, pressing his cock in deeper, the press of his mouth remained soft.

Aemond was careful to keep from hurting you, despite his desire to devour you - clear in the lust darkening his violet eye - and you lifted a grateful and to his cheek.

“Feels so good,” you breathed, gaze meeting his. “You make me feel so good, my love.”

The praise he craved, the words he desperately needed to hear but would never ask for, earned you a sharp snap of his hips - driving him deeper, pressing you closer - and you gasped as his teeth carefully nipped at your sensitive nipple. He’d already taken what little your body had produced, would need to wait a little longer for more, but that did nothing to stop him from continuing to suckle at the soft skin as his thumb fell to your clit.

As he so often tried, your husband pressed you on to your pleasure first. His fingers, his mouth, his cock; all working together in an eager attempt to earn your blissful cries. That sharp violet eye watched your face, watched your lips part and your lashes flutter, and you could see the pride in his gaze as you began to quiver in his grasp.

When your release washed over you, heavy and so desperately needed, Aemond allowed himself to let go. He chased his own high for a moment, sinking into the pleasure of you - of your slick cunt, of your swollen breasts.

With a muffled noise, Aemond spilled into you - his spend filling you with a warmth you swore you would never tire of. It was accompanied by a soft gasp, a quiet noise that you wouldn’t have heard over your own heartbeat had you not been paying him such close attention, and you reached for his cheek with a soft smile.

Aemond easily lifted his head, his mouth meeting yours, and gave you the kiss you wanted. It was an assurance for you both, a gesture meant to calm - to serve as a reminder that you were bound, one - and ended with his forehead pressed to yours.

“All of this,” you whispered, the pair of you still struggling to catch your breath, “will end and we will carry on. And when our duty is done, we will be free to live our lives as we wish. You did not start this war, but you will finish it.”

“I will,” he promised, violet eye glimmering with an unscheduled tear as his hand fell to your swollen belly.

It was a promise he couldn’t make in good faith, nor one he could reasonably be expected to keep, but it was enough for the moment. The idea that this is what awaited him - this life, you - made him desperate. He wanted nothing more than to carry on, than to spend the rest of his life right here, and he would do anything in his power to make it happen.

And, if he could not spend the rest of his life here, he would perish in the pursuit.

____________________________________________________

Author's Note: Aemond just. Captivates me. How am I supposed to survive two years without more content?

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2492 Click here for Part 1

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

It was a quiet evening at Lando’s apartment. The driver sat hunched over his laptop, his focus fixed on race strategies and upcoming circuits. His thoughts, though, were miles away from racing. They lingered on the Meet & Greet event from a few days ago, the moment he had met Y/N and her adorable 4-year-old son, Noah.

Lando had been smitten from the first minute he saw Y/N. Her genuine smile and the way she looked at Noah with such love had tugged at something deep inside him. He had given her his number with the hope that it would lead to something more, but as the days passed with no text or call, his hopes began to fade away.

Oscar had noticed the cloud hanging over Lando. During a break at the team headquarters he approached his team mate. “So, have you heard from Y/N yet?”

Lando’s eyes had lost their usual sparkle as he shook his head. “No, nothing. I’m starting to lose hope, to be honest. Maybe she just wasn’t interested.”

“You never know, mate,” Oscar had replied, “she might just be a bit shy or overwhelmed. Give it time.”

And so Lando had continued with his daily routine, a part of him still hoping, even if it was only a flicker. Then, on this particular evening, his phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. It was a message from an unknown number and he frowned, unlocking the device and opening the text.

He glanced down, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: Hi Lando, it’s Y/N from the Meet & Greet last week. I just wanted to say thank you again for the great time and the bear. Noah loves it and is always hugging it when he sleeps. Here’s a photo of him with his new best friend 😊

He looked at the photo and felt a huge smile instantly creeping on his face. Noah was nestled comfortably in his bed, the bear clutched tightly in his tiny arms. The sight of the peaceful sleeping child with the bear’s head peeking out from the covers made Lando’s heart melt.

He quickly started typing a response but paused, his fingers hovering over the screen. He wanted to convey how much it meant to him that Noah loved the gift but he also wanted to make sure his message came across just right. He was a professional at handling high-speed racing strategies, but this - this was a whole different kind of nerve-wracking.

Finally, he took a deep breath and typed:

Lando: Hey Y/N! Thank you for sending this, it’s absolutely adorable! I’m so happy Noah loves the bear and it was really great meeting you both. Is Noah usually this sweet when he’s sleeping or is he just showing off to his new bear? 😄 Hope you’re doing well!

He hit send and immediately felt a wave of nervous excitement. He glanced at the screen, replaying his message in his mind, hoping it didn’t sound too over the top or awkward. A few seconds later, he received a reply.

Y/N: Thanks, Lando! He’s usually a bit of a tornado during the day, so it’s nice to see him so peaceful at night 😄 We’re doing well and he keeps talking about meeting you. How about you? How’s everything going?

Lando’s smile widened and he felt a renewed sense of hope. They were actually starting a conversation and eagerly he tapped out a response with new found confidence:

Lando: Things are going great, thanks for asking! The racing is keeping me busy, but it’s always exciting. I’d love to hear more about what you and Noah have been up to?

As he hit send Lando leaned back in his chair, still smiling happily for the first time in days. The city lights outside seemed a little brighter and the race strategies on his laptop took a back seat for the rest of the night.

From that day on, each morning Lando would wake up and check his phone, eagerly scrolling through the messages from Y/N. Her texts were often filled with snippets of her and Noah’s daily life. 

One morning, Y/N sent him a snapshot of herself and Noah at a local park. Y/N was smiling brightly, looking effortlessly beautiful in a casual, sunlit setting.

Y/N: Just a day out at the park with Noah. He’s been running around non-stop!

Lando stared at the photo, struck by how stunning Y/N looked. Her natural beauty and radiant smile had him feeling a bit flustered. How does she manage to look this beautiful all the time? he wondered. And how is someone like her still single?

As their conversations continued, Lando found himself constantly impressed by Y/N. Whether it was a candid shot of her cooking dinner, playing with Noah, or simply relaxing at home she always appeared effortlessly beautiful. Another day, Y/N sent him a photo of Noah proudly showing off his latest artwork: a crayon drawing of a race car.

Y/N: Noah wanted to send you a picture of his latest masterpiece. He says it’s a McLaren, but I think he might be a bit optimistic! 😄

Lando chuckled at the message and immediately typed back.

Lando: That’s fantastic! I love it. Noah’s got quite the artistic talent. I’ll have to show this to my team, they might want to hire him for some design work!

In return, Lando shared stories from his life at McLaren, often with a humorous twist.

Lando: So, yesterday I was running late for a meeting and accidentally wore mismatched socks. Of course, I didn’t realize until halfway through the day when one of the engineers pointed it out. They’ve been teasing me about it ever since!

She replied with a laughing emoji and a playful message:

Y/N: Sounds like you’re fitting right in with the team! At least it’s not as bad as the time I tried to make dinner and ended up with something that looked like a science experiment gone wrong. Noah still teases me about it!

Their exchange of stories and photos continued and Lando loved hearing about their adventures and looked forward to the new stories they’d share. Then, one afternoon, he decided it was time to suggest an in-person meeting. He drafted a message and it took him nearly two hours to actually send it off.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed our conversations these past few weeks. It’s been great getting to know you and Noah better. I’ve got a weekend off coming up in three weeks and I was wondering if you’d be up for meeting in person. I could fly out and we could grab coffee or something. Let me know what you think!

When he got Y/N’s reply it made Lando’s day.

Y/N: Hi Lando! That sounds amazing. I’ve really enjoyed our chats too. Noah would be thrilled to meet you again and it would be great to catch up in person. Let’s definitely plan for that weekend. I’ll look forward to it!

Lando: Awesome! I’m really looking forward to it. I’ll keep you updated with my flight details as we get closer to the date. Can’t wait to see you both!

________

As he settled into his apartment after a long day of working out and preparations for the next race he couldn’t wait any longer to share his next idea with Y/N. Over the past few days he had been thinking about how much he wanted to see them much earlier and he was nervous to find out what Y/N would say.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I was thinking... instead of our planned coffee date, how about joining me at the next race? I’d love for you and Noah to come. What do you think?

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his heart racing. A few hours later, Y/N’s response appeared on his phone. 

Y/N: Wow, Lando, that’s an incredible offer! I’m sure Noah would be thrilled to see the race but honestly, I’m not sure if we can afford the travel expenses right now. It’s a bit beyond our budget.

Lando’s heart sank a little but he was determined to make this work. He quickly typed back:

Lando: Please don’t worry about the cost, I’d really like to cover everything for you and Noah. It would mean a lot to me to have you both there. Just let me know if that works for you!

He felt hopeful. He wanted to ensure that money wasn’t an issue and that they could enjoy this experience without any worries. Minutes felt like hours as he waited for her response. Finally, Y/N’s reply came through:

Y/N: Lando, that’s so incredibly kind of you. I’m sure Noah will be ecstatic about this! I really appreciate your generosity and can’t believe how thoughtful you are. I’ll talk to him and start making arrangements. Thank you so much!

Lando’s smile grew wider as he read her message. He quickly responded:

Lando: I’m thrilled you’re excited! I’ll handle all the details, flights, hotel and race passes. I want to make sure everything is perfect for you both. I’ll send you all the information shortly. Can’t wait to see you again soon!

The next day he coordinated every detail meticulously, ensuring that everything was taken care of for their visit. He could hardly keep his excitement to himself and it didn’t take long for Oscar to notice the change in Lando’s mood.

The two drivers sat together in the lounge area, enjoying a rare moment of downtime between team talks. While Oscar sipped his coffee and flipped through a magazine Lando practically radiated with joy.

“Alright, spill it,” Oscar demanded, setting the magazine aside. “You’re practically glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Lando’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Oscar, clearly unable to keep his emotions contained. “So, Y/N and Noah, right?”

“What about them?”

“Well,” Lando said, practically bouncing in his seat, “I Invited them to the race next week.”

Oscar’s curiosity piqued. “And?”

“And,” Lando continued, “they are able to make it!”

Oscar’s smile widened. “That’s fantastic news,” he beamed at his friend and meant every word. Lando had been talking about them nonstop since the Meet & Greet and especially after Y/N had finally texted him back. Lando would update him on their texts and show him the pictures he would get.

Lando’s grin widened even further. “It means a lot to me that they’re coming out. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again and showing them around the paddock properly this time.”

“I’m really happy for you, mate, it sounds like it’s going to be a great weekend.”

“Thanks! I can’t wait to see them!”

________

Y/N looked out the kitchen window, a soft smile playing on her lips as she imagined Noah’s reaction. Noah was sprawled on the floor, concentrated on arranging his small collection of toy cars.

“Hey, Noah,” Y/N called out, trying to keep her voice casual while she bubbled with excitement. “Can you come over here for a minute?”

Noah set aside his cars and trotted over to his mom, his tiny sneakers scuffing against the kitchen tiles. “What is it, Mommy?”

Y/N knelt down so she was eye-to-eye with him. “Guess what? Lando invited us to the next race!”

“Really? We’re going to see Lando again?” Noah’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yes” Y/N confirmed, her excitement barely contained. “We’re going to fly out to watch the race and spend some more time with Lando!”

Noah jumped up and down, his little fists pumping in the air. “This is the best day ever! Can I bring my toy cars to show Lando? And my Lando hat?”

“Of course you can bring your toy cars and I’m sure Lando will be thrilled to see your hat.”

Noah’s excitement was contagious. “Can we start packing now? I want to make sure we don’t forget anything!”

“Not just yet,” Y/N said, chuckling. “We still have a little bit of time before we leave. But we can start picking out your favorite race car pajamas and making a list of what to bring.”

Noah nodded vigorously. “I’m going to wear my pajamas every day until we go! And I’ll make a special drawing for Lando too. Can I put it in his car?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure Lando will love it.”

As traveling day approached, excitement filled the air at Y/N’s home. Noah could hardly contain himself, racing around the house with his favorite race car pajamas and a carefully packed backpack full of toy cars and race-themed items. Y/N, on the other hand, was busy with last-minute preparations, ensuring everything was ready for their trip.

Finally Y/N stood in the hallway, surveying the scene: a large suitcase packed with essentials, Noah’s backpack and a neatly organized tote bag filled with snacks and travel necessities. The sight of it all made her smile, but she had one more thing to do before they left.

With a grin, Y/N picked up her phone and snapped a quick picture. In the photo, a Lando cap poked out of Noah’s backpack and next to it was a little sign that read “Ready for the race!” She made sure to include a glimpse of Noah’s favorite race car pajamas draped over one of the bags.

She typed out a quick message to Lando, her excitement evident in every word:

Y/N: We’re all packed and ready for the big race! 🏁 Noah is beyond excited and insisted on showing off his race car pajamas and Lando hat. We thought you might like to see how ready we are for the adventure. Y/N & Noah

With a satisfied smile Y/N hit send. She knew Lando was busy, but she hoped the photo would bring a smile to his face.

A few hours later, as Y/N and Noah were finishing their final preparations, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a new message. She picked it up and saw a reply from Lando, accompanied by a photo of his own.

Lando: Hey Y/N! Wow, you guys are definitely race-day ready! 😎 I love Noah’s hat and pajamas. Can’t wait to see you both. I’ve got a little surprise planned for Noah! See you soon!  

Y/N showed the message to Noah, who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Look, Noah! Lando says he has a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?” the boy’s eyes widened. “What do you think it is, Mommy?”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure it will be something amazing!”

_________

Click here for Part 3

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings

[lev1hei1chou]

Little Rival

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo's biggest rival in getting your attention is his son Masterlist Requests open!

Gojo Satoru found himself locked in an unexpected battle. This time, his opponent was not a curse or a rival sorcerer, but his own infant son, Haru.

It started one sunny morning. Gojo, ever the loving husband, leaned in to kiss you, when Haru, nestled in your arms, suddenly grabbed your shirt and pulled you closer, glaring at his father with a look of pure defiance.

“Someone’s getting possessive,” Gojo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Haru stuck his tongue out at his father, eliciting a laugh from you. “Oh, you’re just too cute!” you cooed, showering Haru with kisses.

Satoru's smile faltered. “Hey, what about me?” he pouted, trying to reclaim his wife’s attention.

But Haru was relentless. Every time Gojo made a move to hug or kiss you, Haru would wiggle his way between both of you, giggling victoriously. Gojo’s frustration grew as he watched his wife’s affection being monopolized by their little bundle of joy.

One evening, as you cuddled on the couch, Gojo attempted to steal a kiss. Just as your lips were about to touch, Haru let out a dramatic wail, clinging to you as if his world was ending.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked, your attention instantly shifting to Haru.

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seriously, kid? Do you have some sort of radar for these moments?”

Haru’s response was to bury his face into your neck, casting a smug look at his father over your shoulder.

The weeks went by, and Gojo couldn’t help but notice Haru’s strategic interruptions. During your planned date nights, Haru would suddenly develop a mysterious cough or start crying uncontrollably.

“We can’t leave him like this,” you said, canceling your plans for the fourth time in a row.

Gojo’s jaw tightened. “Haru, buddy, you’re really killing my vibe here.”

Haru blinked innocently, but the glint of mischief in his eyes told a different story.

At this point, Gojo was determined to outsmart his pint-sized rival, and devised a new strategy. Spontaneous displays of affection. One afternoon, he swooped you into his arms, planting a firm kiss on your lips.

Haru, sensing the shift in attention, immediately started crying, looking pitifully at his mother.

“Oh no, not again,” you exclaimed, rushing to Haru’s side.

Gojo threw his hands up in exasperation. “Seriously, is this kid for real?”

Despite his frustration, Gojo couldn’t help but admire Haru’s determination. The baby had clearly taken it upon himself to be the sole recipient of your attention.

Whenever Gojo tried to steal a moment alone with his wife, Haru would do absolutely everything in his power—faking sickness, crying dramatically, and even physically pushing his father away.

One evening, you finally managed to get Haru to sleep. Quietly tiptoe-ing out of the nursery, you hoped to enjoy a quiet dinner together. But somehow as soon as you sat down, Haru’s piercing cry echoed through the house.

“I’ll get him,” you sighed, standing up.

Gojo grabbed your hand, and pulled you back gently. “Wait. Let’s give him a minute. He needs to learn that we need time together too.”

Nodding, you sat back down. Haru’s cries grew louder, and after a few moments, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Okay, fine,” Gojo muttered, following you to the nursery, defeated.

Haru lay in his crib, red-faced and wailing. As soon as you picked him up, he stopped crying, flashing a triumphant smile at Gojo.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

As the days turned into weeks, Gojo’s determination to reclaim his wife’s attention only grew stronger. He tried everything—gifts, romantic gestures, even enlisting the help of his friends to babysit Haru. But the baby always seemed to find a way to intervene.

One night, Gojo tried to distract Haru with a new toy while you snuggled on the couch. Just as he thought he might have a moment of peace, the child tossed the toy aside and crawled over.

“Mommy!” he demanded, clambering onto your lap.

Satoru groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I give up. The kid’s unbeatable.”

You laughed, ruffling your husband's hair. “You’re both so silly. There’s enough of me to go around, you know.”

Gojo grumbled, but he couldn’t stay mad. Watching you with Haru, he felt his heart swell with love. Despite the constant interruptions, he knew the both of you were everything he's ever wanted.

Later that night, as you and Gojo lay in bed, Haru snuggled between both of you. Gojo reached over and squeezed your hand.

“I guess I can share,” he said with a smile.

Haru gurgled happily, and you leaned over to kiss Gojo softly. “Thank you, Satoru. You’re a great dad.”

Gojo sighed, resigned but content. “Yeah, yeah. But just wait until he enters elementary school. Then it’s my turn to have you all to myself.”

Haru, as if understanding his father’s words, stuck his tongue out one last time before drifting off to sleep, nestled safely between his parents.

[enha-stars]

✧ Priorities (18+)

Pairing: non!idol jay x fem!reader (angst, smut)

Summary: Busy with a new client that could possibly bring in millions, Jongseong has been spending all of his time at the office. Y/n was okay with it until it had taken her husband completely away from her; seeing him only in passing for two weeks.

Warnings: 3rd pov, angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, crying, neglect, panic, mentions of divorce, SMUT, unprotected sex (don't.), oral (f), kissing, praise, hair pulling, happy ending, 12.4k

A heavy, spoiled scent fills the house as the clock ticks closer to midnight, time passing without any warning or consideration. 

Unopened gifts and untouched food containers sit idly on the table, forgotten as they were abandoned hours ago. The candles have been put out and the small cake has been repackaged, quietly cooling in the fridge. 

Balloons littered the living room, small pieces of confetti hid between the cracks. A once lively room was now cold, dim and lonely as the happiness in it left when the guests did.

At half past midnight, the front door clicks open and Jongseong walks into a quiet, somber home. Without turning on the lights, he quietly kicks off his shoes to the side and sets his briefcase on the ottoman bench against the door. 

He sighs as the exhaustion of the day begins to weigh heavily on him, not having a moment's rest. He walks past the living room without a glance, ignoring the evidence of life the otherwise still house lacked. 

As quietly as possible, he climbs the stairs to his shared bedroom. Part of him wishes she were up, greeting him at the door. He had missed her today but he knew she would be sleeping, snoring softly on his bed. 

Pushing the door open, Jongseong smiles softly as his eyes land on her still body, her arms wrapped around his pillow. He stands at the doorway for a moment, just watching her. She looks soft, peaceful as she lies there. 

What he doesn’t notice are the dried tear stains on her cheeks, eyes puffy and throat parched. As he changes and uses the bathroom, Y/n opens her eyes and stares at the bathroom door, eyes burning bright with anger and grief. 

Quietly, she unwraps her arms around his pillow and places it beside hers, pushing it towards the other end of the bed. With a heavy heart, she turns to her other side, facing the wall. She shuts her eyes, praying that sleep comes to her kindly, needing it now more than ever. 

Drying his hands, Jongseong walks back into the bedroom and slides into bed. She’s turned away from him but his mind is preoccupied with all the work he would have to complete in the morning. His mind races with game plans and strategies as he stares at the ceiling, wishing his mind would grant him one night of rest. He does not think about her because his mind is full of other, adamant thoughts. 

Y/n stares at the wall, unblinking, as he thinks. She can feel them, all his racing thoughts suffocating the air in the room. She almost turns to face him, her desire to touch him stronger than the pain in her heart. He leans over and presses a kiss to her shoulder before he turns his back to her, falling asleep. She lets the warmth of his lips spread throughout her body, the ice from her joints slightly melting. 

She makes no noise as tears stream down her face, wetting her soaked pillow. She has perfected the art of silent suffering, having been her only true companion in the last weeks. 

She listens to him as his breath evens out and his quiet snores fill the silent room. Once his slumber deepens, she turns back to him, hands under her cheek as she stares at his back. Broad shoulders she hasn’t touched in days, hair she forgot the softness of, the slim of his waist she hasn’t held in a while. 

This was the only time she had with him; in the quiet depths of the night, when he came home, she got to see him. She didn’t trace his back or breathe too close, just stared. She could have thrown her arm over his waist or moved closer, hoping his body heat warmed her, but she lay still. 

Y/n was angry; no, she was livid. Anger coursed through her veins, and she dug her nails into her pillow. After a few seconds, her hands went limp. Running deeper than anger was misery, a feeling so distinct and yet so achingly familiar, she could almost taste it. It had consumed her, coated her skin, as it had become a reluctant friend.

The only emotion she could rely on these past three weeks; knowing that regardless of everything, it would greet her in bed and keep her company until she could no longer feel anything but.

After a while, her eyes soon began to flutter, tired and exhausted. She pursed her lips before turning back to the wall, refusing to indulge her initial urges. She gripped her pillow tighter as she squeezed her eyes close, knowing the morning would be quiet, as all mornings had been for a while. 

She felt herself drift off, submitting to well needed rest. Her eyes welcomed the darkness, having been abused all day. Her breathing turned soft and she rested her left hand on her heart, her ring on her heart. 

Jongseong groans as he blinks, stretching the sleepiness out of his body. The early morning sun shone on his face and he grimaced, turning towards the other side of the bed, hand reaching out. His hand met with empty space; nothing but the cold mattress beside him. He opens one eye and frowns at the sight of being woken alone. 

Rubbing his eyes, he shuffles out of bed and into the bathroom, readying himself mentally for the day. He showers and shaves, spending extra time on his hair before his towel clad body wanders into the closet. He has an important meeting today and must look his best. Blinking away his tiredness, he chooses his best suit. 

He quietly hums as he clothes himself, mind busy with different strategies he would have to play in order to make his unofficial client official. For a month, his team has been trying to convince a wealthy investor to invest in their company. Having more than forty years in the business, the client is not an easy one. But, if he agrees, he could bring in millions.

This was the most important moment in Jongseong’s career. If he did this, as the lead, he would be promoted to Chief Operating Officer (COO). 

If he did this, everything would have been worth it. All the schooling and rough hours, the days spent in the office on coffee and tangerines. He’d finally have everything he needed. Happiness was so close that he could taste it, an acquaintance on the verge of becoming a friend. 

Fixing his tie, he made his way downstairs. The house was quiet, but it had been for a while. Only the birds wanted to sing so early in the morning and waking up at the brink of sunrise tampered with his mood; wanting nothing but silence until he reached his bustling office. 

As he stepped off the last step, his eyes glanced over the living room; widening as he paused midstep, taking in the scattered balloons and gifts. He hadn’t seen any of this last night, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t his birthday. 

He heard quiet shuffling in the kitchen and walked towards it, eyes still on the littered table and room. His gaze fell on her back, standing on the counter. The corners of his lips lifted into a brief smile before he walked to the sink, grabbing a glass. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” 

Her back went rigid as her hold on the knife loosened. Y/n didn’t turn to look at him or lift her head. She didn’t trust herself, not with the knife in her hand or the words pressing down on her tongue. 

It wouldn’t matter, she decided. He would not notice. His eyes would meet hers briefly and even then, he wouldn’t see her. He wouldn’t kiss her, and he wouldn’t apologize. She knew all of this, having become accustomed to this new routine he had slowly forced her into. 

“Morning,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice even. Any louder, and it would go hoarse, dry and cracking. She had stopped using it, conversing only when needed. The last time she tried using it, tried to make him understand, she was ignored. That was almost two weeks ago. 

Jongseong leaned against the opposite counter as he sipped on his coffee, warm and ready for him. He scrolled through his emails and notifications before he glanced at the time. He would have to leave soon. 

“Almost done?” 

She pursed her lips and her nostrils flared. Instead of answering him, she put the lid on the container and put it in his lunch bag, zipping it up. She couldn’t feel his eyes on her, hating how she knew what that felt like. 

She slides the bag across the counter, still refusing to look at him. She turns towards the fridge, using the large door as a shield. She slowly puts everything away, hoping he would leave as he normally did; quietly and quickly. 

Instead, he pocketed his phone and picked up his lunch bag. “Whose birthday did you celebrate yesterday? A friend?”

She froze, her entire body stilling at his words. They floated around her head, burning her. She could feel the weight of them on her heart, a sudden wave of agony crashing down on her. Part of her knew. She knew that he had forgotten; that it had slipped his mind and he didn’t mean to forget. Y/n knew he wasn’t that cruel. But it didn’t make her feel better. Instead, all the anguish erupted and poured over her body. 

As humanly as she could, she stood straighter and shut the fridge. She kept her back to him, knowing that if she did manage to get a glance at his brown eyes, she would crumble. She was barely holding on as it was. 

“Mine.” 

The word hung in the air, sucking out all the oxygen in the room. It cast a dark shadow over them, the sun hiding in its ignorance. She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping onto the marble counter for dear life. She would collapse, she knew it. Her legs shook and her heart beat too rapidly. 

Jongseong stared at her back, his eyes widening by the second. At first, he hadn’t heard her. Then, when the word slipped into his mind, past the racing thoughts and outlines and emails, it rang in his ears. It jumped around in his mind, slamming against the walls of his skull as it grew heavier and heavier. 

Blinking, he wet his suddenly dry lips. He didn’t move, not quite trusting himself. “No.” He said. “Your birthday is on the fifteenth.” Despite his strong voice, everything in him felt quiet. 

“It’s the sixteenth today.” 

This was the most she had said to him in days, finding it uncomfortably easy and incredibly difficult. Her voice was quiet, monotone. Not a single hint of emotion, not a twinge of personality. 

No, he thought. I couldn’t have. 

Jongseong shook his head, taking out his phone. He glanced at the date once, then twice. Then, he unlocked his phone and checked the calendar. His thumb hovered over her name, written on the date before. There were hearts beside her name, a note written beneath it; one that listed all the details he had prepared, the restaurant and gifts. 

He could only stare at his phone in despair as he stopped breathing. It was strange, such a slow process that allowed no resistance. His palms began to sweat and his heart felt like it had been squeezed, as if it would burst out of his chest and stomped on. 

“Go,” Y/n whispers. She could feel him unraveling behind her and as much as she wanted to dwell in it, she couldn’t find the energy to. She had dreamed about this day for the last couple of days, hoping he would come to his senses. But it didn’t feel as fulfilling as it did in her head. 

“What?” Jongseong whispered, her voice piercing through his heart, tangling with his nerves. He didn’t realize how little of it he had heard recently. How could he have missed her birthday? The one day he was excited about every year; the one day he was extremely thankful for and planned months in advance for. 

She swallowed, her grip on the counter loosening. Using all her strength, she slowly turned around and Jongseog held his breath, eyes wide. His eyes trailed her body, still rigid. His gaze landed on her face and he felt his heart stop beating. Her eyes were red, swollen and permanent tear stains painted on her cheeks. 

She sighed before lifting her eyes, meeting his unnerving stare. She didn’t smile, and she didn’t frown. She simply stared at him, eyes almost hollow. Jongseong was almost sure that if he poked her, she would crumble right before her. 

“You have a meeting. You’re late.” Her words pierced his skin, his insides bleeding. “Go.” 

Without realizing it, he began to shake his head. He couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking and the only thing on his mind was her as he tried to recall any recent memories he had; there were none. 

“You mean…” He swallowed, shame pooling in his lungs as the dots in his mind connect. “I missed your birthday?” He stared at her, eyes begging. “I missed your birthday.” 

Please, please don’t let it be true.

She nodded once, confirming his worst fears. “Yes.” Tears pricked her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip, hating that she still had tears to cry. She watched him, watched as her words sank in his bones, crawling between his joints and settling. 

A tiny, miniscule part of her felt pleased; pleased that he was in pain, glad that his mind had cleared and discovered how horrible he had been. All she had wanted from him was time, some attention. And now, after her birthday had passed, she had gotten both.

“Y/n.” Jongseong swallowed, body shaking. His heart was breaking, it was shattering within him and he could only let it happen. Staring at her, he realized her heart had broken long ago. 

He had done this, he reminded himself. He had done this. 

She simply shook her head and pointed at the clock behind him. “If you leave now, you’ll make it to the meeting.” 

“Will you stop talking about the meeting?” He raised his voice, needing to channel his emotions. His entire body shook as the reality of what he had done settled in. He hated the way she looked at him, indifferent and disappointed. Had he truly been so lost within himself? He couldn’t remember the last time he looked at her like this; all at once. 

She simply stood there, back against the counter. Watching him fall apart gave her some strength, knowing she was finally being heard. It had taken two weeks, but she had done it. She had gotten through to him. He was listening. 

“No,” she answered, voice stronger. “No. There is nothing else to talk about.” Her voice was sharper, angry. 

Jongseong shook his head, trying to clear away her words and the haze in his head. “What are you–”

“For almost three weeks,” Y/n interrupted, “you have spoken of nothing but meetings and work. You’re never here, and when you are, you don’t speak of anything else.” She stood tall, eyes shining as she crossed her arms. 

Jongseong stared at her, lips parted. His own eyes shined and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. A small part of him wanted to be angry too; he was working so hard, barely sleeping, slaving away at his job and there was no sympathy for him. But the better part of his heart, the part that she held, told him that it was no excuse; he had still missed her birthday. 

Burning with anger, she steps forward. She has held back for days but no more. If Jongseong was going to stand there, then he would listen. She would stand her ground. Y/n couldn’t go on like this, she hated it. 

“For weeks,” she began. “You have been coming home late. You don’t speak to me, you don’t touch me, you don’t acknowledge me. Everything has been about this client, everything has been about you; your job, your promotion, you, you, you.” She spat, rushing out her words. 

“Do you know that I stay up for you every night?” Her eyes are burning now, and she lets the tears slip down her cheek. He watches it in torment, her words ripping his heart open. “And I get it,” she sighs. “I know. I know how hard you’re working and how important this is to you, but I’m important too. You come home exhausted and ignore me because I’m not a priority to you anymore.” 

Jongseong is shaking his head, his words caught in his throat as his hands shake. He can’t breathe. He can’t see her properly, the tears in his eyes making everything blurry. This was his worst nightmare; something that used to keep him up at night, a constant fear in his head. 

Her lips tremble and her persona breaks; weeks of neglect making her ache. She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look; red eyes brimmed with tears and wobbly lips, her shoulders shaking as all the pain she kept locked away resurfaced. He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand it.

His knees buckle and he grips the counter, holding on with his life. He still can’t breathe. Part of him thinks it’s his body’s way of punishing him, forbidding him from breathing the air she had grieved in. 

Slowly, Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat and blinks. “Y/n,” he says. Her name is all he can say, all he wants to say. He only realizes now that her name tasted a bit foreign on his tongue. 

“I’m so–” A familiar ringtone interrupts him, making him blink. He watches as her expression falls apart even further and she glances at his pocket, knowing she had lost. Reluctantly, he pulls out his phone and stares at his associate’s name. His thumb hovers over the bright red button but her words stop him from pressing it. 

“Answer it,” she says. There is nothing but defeat in her tone, knowing she was competing in a losing game. Time had not stopped in the kitchen; even though it had for her. Y/n doesn’t wipe the tears off her face and it feels liberating, crying in front of him like this. 

“Hello,” his voice cracks as he answers the phone. He barely listens to his associate’s rushed words, begging him to come to the office. All he can focus on is her. It’s a bit ironic, he thinks. 

Jongseong ends the call without responding, having heard enough. He knows how important this meeting is, it’s all he’s been thinking about. That was the problem. He was the problem. 

Jongseong parts his lips, needing to get his words out but she raises her hand and silences him, standing tall. She wants him to miss the meeting, to smash his work phone on the floor and look at her, pay attention to her, but she loves him too much to ask that of him. Looking at him now, she knew he would. He was finally looking at her the way she needed him too but she couldn’t have him sacrifice this. 

“You need to go to this meeting, Jongseong.” He winces at the use of his full name. “There will be no point to any of this if you skip this meeting. What will it all be for, then?” She raises her eyebrow at him. “You tossed me aside for two weeks, what’s another day?.” 

She walks towards him and picks up his lunch bag, shoving it into his chest. Surprised, he latches on to it, hoping his fingers would graze her skin but they don’t. She pulls away, afraid that if he touched her, she would forgive him in a heartbeat. 

He stares at her, eyes wide and scared. She looks at him for a second, one quick second; and it’s enough to have her turning her head. She faces the sink as new, fresh tears pool in her eyes. She has never seen pain shine in anyone’s eyes the way it shined in his, not even her own. 

“Y/n,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice cracks and she knows he’s crying. She can feel it, the weight of his guilt making the room heavier. He steps towards her and his hand reaches out to her. She holds her breath as it hovers over her shoulder, knowing he had never once hesitated to touch her before this. 

Jongseong retreats his hand in shame, unable to touch her. The fear of being pushed away is too strong. He knew he didn’t deserve to touch her, not after he had deprived her of it for so long. He bites his bottom lip. “Will you look at me?” 

She nearly audibly sobs at his words; the heartbreak so intense it almost knocks her off her feet. She had repeated the same sentence to herself hundreds of times over the past few days, hoping that just once he would hear it in her eyes. 

Heavily, she turns to face him. Even after anything, she can’t refuse him. She looks up at him, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had. 

He looks at her, eyes glistening as he almost drops to his knees in forgiveness. He nods to himself, knowing he didn’t deserve her kindness. “I’m sorry.” The words hang between them. “I’ll be home right after the meeting. We’re going to talk. I’m going to apologize.” He squeezes his hands together, trying to prevent the shaking. 

She stares at him, taking him all in. His hair is a bit longer than it usually is and his eyebags are darker than they should be. His shoulders are still broad but he looks weaker. The nights of takeout had taken a toll on him, she concludes. His suit is perfectly pressed and his tie is– 

Without thinking, Y/n reaches for his tie. He can only watch with wide eyes as she straightens it for him. She doesn’t pay attention to the way her fingers tingle or the way her hands shake. She simply stares at the tie, knowing he had done his best but they were never perfect. Memories and emotions crash within her and she knows. 

She knows she’ll wait for him, for his apology. She will hear him out because she loves him, because despite everything, she knows him better than she knows herself. And she knows she shouldn’t, that she should leave him and curse at him but she can’t. Because beneath her fingers, she can feel his body shaking. Y/n can hear his lagged breath, see the sorrow and distress in his eyes. 

The one promise they had made the night of their wedding was that they would communicate. That they would listen to each other and work against the problem, never with the problem. The issue was that Jongseong wasn’t listening and he was the problem. But he was listening now, and she valued him and their marriage too much to pull away now. Y/n would have to be the bigger person but someone had to be. 

She had dreamed about this; about his tears and his apology and her initial triumph dies, slowly leaking out her veins. All she wants is her husband back. She wants to be seen again, held tightly until all she could think about was his skin against hers and his heartbeat in tune with hers. 

She releases his tie and looks up at him. He watches her, knowing that he deserved her refusal. He knew that if she shook her head, told him to not bother, he would have deserved it. He would fight it, fight for her, but he would understand. 

“Okay.”

It’s a single word. Whispered so quietly that he barely heard it, but it was enough. A tear falls down his cheek and he nods, lips pursed. “Okay,” he repeats. Okay, okay, okay. 

They stare at each other before she glances at the clock. She lightly shoves his shoulder and he tumbles back, eyes wide. His entire body is sensitive to her touch, keeling to bask in it. 

“Go,” she says. “You’ll be late.”

He’s shaking his head before he can think. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Y/n emphasizes. “It matters to me.” 

At her words, he can only nod. He looks back at her once before he slips on his shoes. He looks back again as he shuts the front door. His eyes are still glossy but she can only focus on the attention she held, having had to beg for it before.

“I love you.” 

She doesn’t have enough time to respond because he hurriedly closes the door, afraid of her response. She stands in the kitchen, staring at the door with wide eyes, a warmth spreading through her for the first time in days. 

“I love you too,” she mumbles into the air. 

Jongseong is not paying attention to the meeting. His eyes are on his file, the thick, massive file that he had compiled over the weeks, but his mind isn’t comprehending anything. He’s barely contributed to the meeting and when asked questions, his answers are short and precise. 

He ignores the looks of his associates, his team. He’s done enough–sacrificed enough– for this. The rest is up to them. All his effort over the past month should make up for his lack of effort now. All they have to do is make sure the client signs the agreement. He’s sure they can do it. They have to. Because he can’t. All he can think about is her. 

Her words. Her feelings. Her pain. Her suffering. 

All those days his mind hadn’t spared her a single thought were catching up to him now. He couldn’t filter her out, his heart aching in his chest. He almost asked someone to reach into his chest to lift it for him, unable to carry the weight of it himself. 

“Alright,” the client clapped his hands together. He smiles at everyone at the table, eyes lingering on Jongseong. “You’ve all convinced me. I like the numbers and I like the company.” The older man turns to Jongseong, speaking to him. “I appreciate the work ethic of the company.”

Jongseong smiles at the client as the words sink into his scattered mind until everything freezes. Jongseong’s eyes widened and he gaped at the older man, not willing to believe what he had heard. He has been in and out of the conversation, only catching the clients last words. 

“You want to sign with us?” His words felt foreign on his tongue, a child-like hope in his eyes. His frown turns upwards into a wide smile when the client nods, pulling out a pen. The associates stare in astonishment, wondering if all the hard work they put in was finally paying off. 

Hastily, Jongseong grabs the agreement from his pile and slides it to the client. He watches with curious, greedy eyes. His eyes don’t stray from the smooth movement of the pen, watching as the ink dried and his unofficial client became official. 

The client stands up and the rest of the room stands with him, under a trance. He puts his hand out towards Jongseong and smiles softly, years of wisdom and knowing resting in the crinkles by his eyes. Jongseong shakes his hand, genuinely smiling for the first time since entering the building. 

“You did good, kid.” The older man says. He squeezes Jongseong’s shoulder once. “Take a break.” 

Jongseong can only swallow the lump in his throat and nod, fearing that his emotions from earlier would make an appearance. Before he could feel the wetness of his eyes, he grins at the man and straightens. “Thank you for choosing us. You’ve made a good choice and we will not let you down. Welcome to the family.” 

The older man smiles and nods, waving to the rest of the associates before he walks out of the meeting room, fully aware that he just changed all their lives. Silence falls upon them as they stare at the singular contract in the middle of the table. 

Jongseong can feel his heart constrict in his chest as he sighs out a miniscule breath of relief. Part of him knew that he should have been more excited, that everything he had been working towards had worked out. 

But he wasn’t over the moon. All he wanted was to go home to her, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t have done any of this himself; couldn’t have done it without her lunches or her warm body next to his. 

He couldn’t have done this alone. He didn’t want to do anything alone. He needs her, wants her so badly it almost drowns his lungs as he sits silently, ignoring all the ruckus around him. He drops his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. The idea of coming home to an empty home, a house without her, makes him feel sick. 

“Jongseong,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Jongseong raises his head and finds all the associates staring at him, some in amazement and others in confusion. “Why aren’t you jumping up and down in glee?” Jaeyun smirks before he focuses on the torment in his friend’s eyes, grin faltering. 

Jongseong shakes his head, forcing a smile. He stands up and claps his hands together, making eye contact with everyone in the room. He bows his head and this time, his smile is genuine. 

“Good job, everyone.” He focuses on the contract, unaware of the bashful looks his colleagues throw him. “You all worked so hard and spent so much time on this. Your efforts have been acknowledged.” He smiles at Jaeyun, hoping his friend would drop the concerned look. “You all did amazing and I am so glad and honoured to have worked with you all.”

At his words, someone begins clapping and the room erupts into cheers, a burden lifting off everyone’s chest as they clap each other on the shoulder and laugh. Jongseong smiles at the commotion before he steps away, grabbing the contract. 

He almost slips out of the office but a gentle tug at his wrist stops him. He sighs before turning, making eye contact with Jaehyun. His friend gives him one look and it has his facade crumbling, all his emotions settling in his eyes. 

“What is it, Jay? What’s going on?” 

Jongseong shakes his head, unable to voice his thoughts. If he spoke about it, it would be real. It would re-confirm everything and he already couldn’t handle it. Jongseong wishes he had listened to Jaeyun all those times; when his friend begged him to go home and spend time with her. 

“Nothing. I’m just tired,” he tries. He waves the contract in Jaeyun’s face. “I’m going to give this to Heeseung and then I’m going home.” 

Jaeyun frowns and lets go of Jongseong’s wrist. Before he could say anything, Jongseong shakes his head again, his eyes pleading. “Drop it, okay? Tell the team I’ll take them all out very soon. Just, not tonight.”  

Jaeyun purses his lips and nods, stepping back. He smiles softly at his friend and gives him a thumbs up. “Okay. I’ll tell them.” He nudges his head towards the door. “Get out of here.” 

Jongseong smiles in gratitude before he pulls open the door, practically running out towards the CEO’s office. He smiles and nods as quickly as he can as he passes his fellow colleagues, but he stops for no one. Perhaps it was the look of determination mixed with heartache, but no one tried to strike up a conversation with him. 

Breathing heavily, Jongseong knocks on the wide wooden doors before pulling them open. He steps into the huge room and slightly bows his head in greeting at the man who stood before him. Heeseung smiles widely at Jongseong, pleased and impressed. 

“Jongseong,” he greets. He motions towards the seat in front of him. “Come, sit.” 

Jongseong nods and wipes his free hand on his dress pants, suddenly nervous. He always was when he was in this room, afraid of messing up. He walks towards Heeseung and sits after the CEO makes himself comfortable. 

Quietly, Jongseong slides the contract towards Heeseung. While he respected the man before him, he just wanted to go home. If he kept quiet, he’d be on his way. 

Heeseung grabs the contract and stares at it, a soft permanent smile on his face as he reads it over. He had approved of it, but it was different now. It was signed. He sets the paper down and links his hands together as he stares at Jongseong. 

“Good job,” he starts. “Truly. You’ve done some amazing work and I’m highly impressed.” 

Jongseong smiles. “Thank you.” 

Heeseung quirks his eyebrow before he leans back on his chair, fingers on his chin as he stares at Jongseong. The CEO knew Jongseong; knew how hard-working and dependable he was. He had seen it when they worked alongside each other and heard it when they didn’t.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Heeseung says. He watches carefully as Jongseong sighs in relief. “I want to promote you. I’ve been watching you since you closed the Claeter deal and I know you’re the right man for the job.” 

Jongseong can only stare at Heeseung. In the back of his mind, he knew. He knew that this was the inevitable next step; but hearing it outloud did not make it easier to accept. He had always been just an associate. And now, he would be more. 

Heeseung smiles. “Jongseong, I want you to be my COO.” He leans forward, trying to gauge Jongseong’s reaction. The reaction always mattered. It would make or break it all. 

Jongseong swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for a quick moment. Then, he simply nods and smiles. “Thank you.” 

Heeseung grins, knowing he has chosen the right person. “We can talk about this tomorrow. I just wanted to make things clear between us. We can go through it all after your daily meetings.” 

Jongseong purses his lips before he sits straighter, knowing he would have to set his priorities straight. He didn’t want a promotion unless he had her to share it with. It wouldn’t matter then. 

“Actually,” he begins. Heseeung nods for him to continue, leaning back. “I was wondering if I could take tomorrow off. I understand that this is short notice, but I have something urgent and important to attend to.” Jongseong prides himself on keeping his voice steady.

Heeseung stares at him before raising an eyebrow. “I assume you’re also not accepting the position immediately, then?” 

Jongseong shakes his head. “I would like to have a couple of days to think about it, if that’s alright. I am incredibly honoured and grateful, but I…”

Heeseung raises his hand, understanding. He, too, was once in Jongseong’s position. He had his own reservations and qualms. He could not fault him for it, in fact, he appreciated the honesty. He nods, already typing away at his laptop. 

“I understand. I’ll have my secretary send you an outline of the position by tomorrow morning. Let me know by the end of the week and we can talk about it then.” He smiled and winked at Jongseong’s surprised look. “Go home early. Take a few days off. You deserve them.”

Jongseong ignores the tears that prick his eyes as he thanks the man before him. He smiles as he leaves the large office and smiles until he reaches his car. Then, his smile falls and the adrenaline and distractions that had consumed him vanishes. Standing in the parking lot, he clutches his chest. 

Quietly, he unlocks his car and sits in the driver seat, gripping the steering wheel as his head falls against it. Now, he was alone with his thoughts. His horrible, sickening thoughts. He stares at his wedding ring as the turmoil in his stomach begins to turn into something vicious. 

He throws his head back, groaning. He squeezes his eyes shut as images of her crying and heartbreaking face flashes through his mind. He had pushed them down before, but now they had pinned themselves to his subconscious. 

He twirled the ring as bile bubbled in his stomach. What had he done? How could he have abandoned her the way he had? How did work of all things become everything to him? He had never been this foolish before; had the idea of a promotion really consumed him? Didn’t he already have everything with her? Didn’t she already bring him the most happiness?

Jongseong hadn’t realized that he had begun crying until he hiccups, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He doesn’t understand how he could have forgotten her birthday. It was the best day of his life, the happiest moment in time because it was the day she was born. The love of his life. He had planned so much for it, and yet. 

His sobs begin to grow louder as he thinks about her celebrating her birthday without him. He recalls the balloons and presents on the table, how he asked her if it was for a friend. Even if she managed to forgive him, he never would. 

Jongseong wipes his eyes as he starts the car. He drives silently to her favourite bakery, picking up her favourite cake. He knows it won’t make up for anything, but he knows how she craved it every year. Even if she would no longer have him, she should at least have some sweets. 

He drives to his favourite florist and listens in silence as they tell him that he would have to pay extra for not picking up his previous order. Without any argument, he pays the fee and buys her favourite flowers. She always looks forward to these ones specifically, loving the way they brightened their home in comparison to other, regular flowers. 

He grips the steering wheel tightly as he drives home, his heart spilling out of him. He is scared, so utterly terrified. He’s never been more petrified in his life; not when he left his home as a teenager, not even when his mother slipped on the driveway. He had some control during those instances. But here, now, he was completely in the wrong. 

He would be lucky if she was still home, ring on her finger. 

Jongseong pulls into the driveway and sighs in relief when he spots her car, knowing she was still home. Her home. His home. Their home. 

Y/n steps out of the shower, clutching her robe tightly around her. Shaking the water out of her hair, she quietly hums as she dries her body, slipping on one of Jongseong’s old shirts and sweatpants. 

She hangs the robe back in the bathroom, brushing her hair and moisturizing her face. This shower felt different, it felt refreshing. There was some hope bubbling in her chest, knowing that she’d finally have a conversation with her husband. She glanced at the clock and sighed, knowing there was still a few hours before he came home; if he came home. 

Grabbing her phone, she makes her way downstairs to make herself a warm cup of tea, needing something to soothe her throat. She pauses mid step as she eyes the familiar shoes at the entrance, frowning when the briefcase she had seen only a few hours rested on the ottoman by the door. 

Slowly, she steps off the last step and makes her way to the kitchen. Her entire body freezes when her eyes land on his rigid back, facing the living room where balloons and confetti still littered. 

He hadn’t heard her walk down the stairs, his mind was preoccupied by the guilt in his chest. He wanted to destroy everything in front of him; knowing that she deserves something better than filthy old balloons. But he hadn’t even given her that; so he could not complain. 

“Jongie?”

At her voice, her soft, confused voice, Jongseong slowly turned. The use of his nickname, a name only she called him, made his heart flutter in warmth. He looked up at her and almost sighed in relief; she looked so beautiful. 

Y/n raises an eyebrow at him before her gaze falls on the flowers and cake in his hands. Her eyes soften and her frown lifts upwards, unable to stop it. She really did love these flowers, and she had truly missed the cake. At least, she decided, he knows. 

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat before releasing a quick breath. “Hi, pretty.”

She smiles and looks down, closing her eyes. It had been a while since he called her that, and it never failed to make her blush; even now, while she brimmed with anger. She was still angry, still hurt, but he was looking at her now and it almost made for the days he hadn’t. 

“Hi,” she whispers. “Why are you back so early? What about the meeting?”

Jongseong wanted to shake his head, forbid any talk of work or the meeting. He just wanted to talk to her, about her, about them, but he knew he was in no position to make requests. 

“Heeseung let me go early,” his lips wobbled. “He signed on.” His smile turned genuine for a moment, relief and excitement swirled in his eyes and her heart warmed. “He’s officially a client.” 

Despite all the tension, all the emotions and the negativity, she couldn’t help but smile widely at him, pride swelling in her chest. She clapped her hands in excitement before grinning at him, nothing but delight in her eyes. “Jongie! That’s amazing!” She wrapped her arms around herself, stopping herself from hugging him. “I knew it was going to happen. And the promotion?” Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Did you get it?” Her smile widened when he nodded. 

Jongseong smiled and his heart warmed at the pure glee in her eyes; his heart drowning in turmoil. She was angry at him, hurt by him, and yet she still prided him for his victories. He would never forgive himself; he would never ever let the guilt die. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. He blinked once before he stepped towards her, forgetting all about work and the client. Right now, the only thing that mattered was her. The only thing he wanted to think about; wanted his mind to consume, was her. 

He set the cake on the table and offered her the flowers, a remorseful frown on his lips as shame shined brightly in his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re getting these late.” She grabbed them, holding them tightly to her chest as she smelled them. “But I wanted you to have them. I know how much you like them.” 

Y/n nodded, like she understood; and she did. All of her initial anger had lessened, a low simmer below the surface. She had thought about everything after he had left for work; what she wanted, what it all meant, and she decided that she wanted to get past it. She wanted to talk to him, to explain her feelings and how she felt, and then she wanted him to own up to it. She wanted her husband back, but she wanted him to be better. 

“Thank you,” she replies, a soft smile on her lips. At the sight of it, Jongseong’s mouth goes dry. 

Suddenly, he can’t breathe. Here she is, standing before him, beautiful and broken, and she’s thanking him. He feels sick, like everything inside him has turned green. He shakes his head, his eyes pleading. “Don’t– don’t. Don’t thank me. Not for this.” 

He takes another step towards her and she basks in it. “You deserve this,” he begins, words trying to fall off his lips. “You deserve flowers everyday and your favourite cake and you deserve only the best.” He’s panting now, eyes wide. “I’m sorry I haven’t been that. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish; so inexplicably horrible.” 

She listens to him, clutching the flowers so hard that the stems bend. She feels the weight of it all in her heart, needing to sit. Quietly, she places the flowers on the table and grabs his hand. He only watches in surprise as she guides him to the living room, sitting on the sofa. He sits beside her, making sure to keep some space between them. 

Jongseong sits there, palms sweaty as he eyes her. She’s sitting up straight, her own hands intertwined in her lap. Biting her bottom lip, she lets his heart slow down before she speaks. 

Beautiful, he thinks. So beautiful. 

She lets out a long breath before she looks up, her eyes watery. “Jongie,” she says. “I want to be honest with you. I want to explain to you how it felt; how useless and neglected I felt.” 

Jongseong nods, his eyes watery as he drops his head in shame. “But,” she pauses. “I don’t want this to continue.” 

At her words, Jongseong snaps his head up, eyes wide as his lips part. “You want a divorce?” 

Y/n reels back, as if she’s been slapped. She stares at him, heart pounding. “What? Who said anything about a divorce?” 

Jongseong blinks. “You… You just said you don’t want to continue this.” He motions between the both of them with his finger. 

She shakes her head in panic, worried that her heart would beat out of her chest. “No! No. No,” she repeats. “That is not what I meant. I meant,” she licks her lips, “that I don’t want this to continue between us; the neglect and silence. I want to talk about it and I want to move past it.”

Jongseong visibly relaxes at her words, sighing as he drops his head into his hands. His entire body is shaking, and he wonders if it will ever get easier; if the guilt will ever subside. 

“Okay.” He lifts his head. “I’m listening. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening before. I am now. From now on, I always will.” 

“Jongie,” she leans forward. “Before we got married, you told me that I would always come before your work. You’ve always worked hard and I know how important your job is to you, but this client, this entire month, you turned into someone I didn’t recognize.” 

Jongseong wants to drop his head. He wants to stare at the floor, but he refuses to be weak. He deserves to hear this, deserves to stare into her bright, shiny eyes as she tells him how she’s been feeling.��

“In the last two weeks,” she continues, “you came home incredibly late and when you did, you didn’t spare me a single conversation. You barely ate any of the food I made and when I tried talking to you, you could only bring up work.” She wipes her eyes, tired of crying. 

“I felt like shit,” Y/n whispers. “You were always tired and you stopped talking to me, always lost in your mind.” She squeezes her hands together, trying to find strength in herself. “I felt like for a while, nothing else was important to you. That I… I wasn’t important to you. That I wasn’t a priority.” 

She blinked before she shuffled a bit closer to him, needing his warmth now that she could reach it. “I kept wondering if I was easy to discard,” she whispers. “Then, when you didn’t say anything to me on my birthday, didn’t surprise me or come home, I figured that I had truly lost to your client; to your job.” 

She smiled at him softly, hating the wrinkles around his pursed lips and tense muscles. “I know work will always be important. You spent your entire life studying and working so hard to get where you are, and I am so proud of you; but you can’t just throw me aside when things get hectic at work. You can’t just ignore me and push me away when things get tense. You can’t pretend like I am some roommate you are barely tolerating because I am your wife. I will be treated as such.” 

Jongseong was nodding along to her words, agreeing with every single one. He was such a fool, such an idiot. How could he have made someone as perfect and beautiful as her feel like this? He had promised her the day of the wedding that he would always treat her right; keep her happy, and he had failed. 

“You’re right,” he started. “You’re my wife; the love of my life, and I should have treated you better. I honestly don’t even understand what came over me.” He reached for her hands and she joined him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Work was and is really tough, but it’s no excuse to neglect you. I should have been better, kept my work life and private life separate.” 

He squeezed her hands, staring into her eyes. “You are so important to me, Y/n. Everything I do is for you. I am so sorry that I let work take over everything. You are, and always will be my number one priority. I’m sorry that I made you doubt that.” 

Y/n looks at him as her heart warms, feeling lighter than it had in days. She rubs her thumb over the skin of his wrist, lost in the feeling of touching his skin after so long. 

“As the lead, there was a lot of pressure on me. There was also the promotion lingering in the back of my mind and I let it all consume my thoughts.” He swallowed. “I suppose I got so caught up with everything else that I let the one person I love most in this world down.”

He brings their joined hands to his chest, pulling her closer. “I am so sorry I forgot about your birthday. I promise you that I had so much planned but it completely slipped my mind. You deserve much better, but I am begging you to forgive me.” 

He kisses her fingers, hoping it would not be the last time he would taste her skin. “You mean everything to me. You are everything to me. I promise I’ll be better. You are not easy to discard, my love.” He presses another soft kiss to her fingers. “You are so important to me and I love you so much. I was being an idiot; I am an idiot. I promise you,” he shuts his eyes, “I will never make you feel unloved and neglected again. I love you so much that sometimes it’s too much for me.” 

She says nothing as she stares at him; at his eyes that are squeezed shut as he clutches their hands close to his heart. She sees her husband for the man he is; tender, loving, and so perfect. Y/n smiles before she leans forward and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering on his soft skin before she pulls away. 

Jongseong’s eyes fly open and he stares at her. His lips part in surprise as his cheek tingles, a warmth he hadn’t felt all day spread through him, hope flickering in his chest like an old lightbulb.

“Okay. I understand,” she says. “I forgive you. I know this is not who you are, and that this client was truly important. I’ll have more birthdays.” She smiles at him, moving closer. “It won’t happen again.”

Still in awe, Jongseong nods. “Never again.” His heart is beating quickly and his eyes begin to water.

“Good,” she mumbles. “Then you’re forgiven.” 

She grins at him as all the anger and pain dissipates; it lifts off her chest and wafts out of the room, leaving nothing but soft awkwardness in the air. Her heart feels fuller and lighter and she feels like she could cry, in happiness this time. 

Jongseong is staring at her, hands trembling. Her words float around his head, and even when they settle, branding themselves in his skull, he still can’t believe them. Abruptly, he untangles their hands and drops his head into his hands, shoulders shaking as silent sobs pour out of him. 

He didn’t deserve it, and yet she forgives him. His heart rattled in his chest and it felt lighter, the darkness seeping out of it. 

Y/n freezes as she watches him cry, nothing but tenderness in her chest as she presses herself against him and wraps her around his shaking body. She rubs his back and holds him tight, knowing that her own tears are falling. 

That’s how they stay for a bit; one of them crying uncontrollably and the other comforting, both interchanging as the sky darkens and all the emotions, all the negative and anxious emotions washed away. 

Finally, their tears come to an end and she wipes Jongseong’s face as he wipes hers, a gentleness in their touch. She drops her hands as Jongseong cups her face, his thumbs brushing the skin under her eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, transfixed by her. Her grip on his loosened tie tightens and she smiles at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

She nods, weeks of neglect resurfacing as she shuffles onto his lap, wanting to be as close to him as she can be. With her legs on either side of him, she looks down at his glazed eyes and thinks she might pass away at the sheer intensity of his gaze. 

Slowly, he cups her face again and pulls her face closer to his. They breathe the same air as her lips hover his and she almost begs him before he softly connects their lips. Their plush lips press against each other and it’s enough for her to sink into him. 

One of his hands drops to her waist and one of her hands travels into his hair as the kiss deepens, their lips moving passionately against each other, tongues pressed together. The sound of their kissing echoes through the living room, a sound that the walls had missed and begun to crave. 

Y/n pulls at his hair, tiling his face upwards as she kisses him messily, her tongue tracing his bottom lip. She grins as his eyes flutter shut and the warmth in her body travels to her core, the one part of her body that craved him.

Unable to help himself, Jongseong kisses her neck, sucking and biting. He had missed the taste of her skin and he sucks, needing her taste all over him. She throws her head back in pleasure, slowly grinding down on his lap. This was almost too much for her, but she would never ask to stop. 

When his clothed bulge brushes against her clothed pussy, they both hiss and press their foreheads against each other, relishing in the arousal around them. His thumb rubs soft circles on her cheeks as she scratches the nape of his neck. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he whispers. “We can wait. Both of our emotions are high right now and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable later. We can wait.” 

She smiles at him, her heart warm and content. She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips and his lips lift into a smile. 

“I don’t want to wait, Jongie.” Y/n brushes her nose against his. “I want you right now.” 

Jongseong looks up at her and squeezes her waist. “You’re sure?” 

She nods and presses herself down on him, biting her bottom lip at the friction. “You have a lot of making up to do. I suggest you get started.” 

Jongseong smiles, the corners of his lips lifting into a wider smirk. He couldn’t believe how he went so long without this; without her. He loved everything about her, missed everything about her. And she didn’t know it, but he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. 

He kisses her before he brings his other hand under her thigh and lifts her as he stands up. Surprised, she wraps his legs and arms around him, laughing when he grins at her. Holding her securely under her thighs, he slowly makes his way upstairs. 

She presses soft kisses to his neck as he walks up the stairs, biting every time he squeezed the skin of her thighs. “I want it slow,” she whispers against his ear. She grins when he stills right in front of their door before kicking it open. “And raw.” 

Jongseong chuckles at her words but he doesn’t find them funny. A warmth spread through him, a primal need washing over him. It had been too long, and even the thought of her walls around him was too much. 

But tonight was not about him. It was about her. And he would give her everything he had. 

Gently, he sits her down on their large bed, looking down at her with heated eyes. She stares up at him, ignoring the way his cock pressed against his dress pants. She was more focused on his eyes; beautiful and brown and ablaze. 

Jongseong cups her chin and simply stares down at her, love swelling in his chest. He rubs her chin and leans down, pressing his lips on her forehead. At the softness of the gesture, her eyes shut and she releases a quick breath. 

“Tonight is about you,” he says. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” He pulls off his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, staring directly into her eyes. 

Her throat dries at his words, not used to having so much control. It made her clench her thighs together as she realized that Jongseong truly meant it; tonight was about her, only her. 

Y/n watches with hungry eyes as he slips off his collar shirt, leaving his abs exposed as he slowly unbuttons his pants, still staring at her. Feeling mesmerized, she tugs off her shirt and smiles as his warm gaze immediately falls on her bare chest, forgetting to put on a bra after the shower. 

She watches him carefully as he slowly pulls down his pants and kicks them off. He stands there in his boxers, bulge pressing against the fabric as he stares at her. She’s only focused on the lower half of him, her mind racing. 

“Want me to help you, darling?” 

He steps closer and raises his eyebrow in question. She simply nods, unable to speak. Her heart skips a beat as he links his thumb over the waistband of her sweatpants and panties and pulls them down. Unconsciously, she raises her hips and hisses as the cold air hits her pussy. 

Jongseong pulls her pants off and lays them on the floor next to his dress pants. He lifts his gaze to hers before it travels down her body, starting at her neck to her chest and then to her pussy. He can only stare, mouth watering at the sight. 

She reaches out to him and he steps closer. Y/n hooks her thumb on the waistband of his boxers and looks up at him. He smiles at her and pats her cheek. “Whatever you want, love.” 

She pulls down slowly, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut as the elastic rubs against his shaft. She drops his boxers and his cock springs free, almost hitting her nose. She stares at it, eyes wide. It had been a while and she had forgotten the size of it. 

Hypnotized, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to its pink head. Jongseong hisses and throws his head back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

She wraps her hand around it and he squeezes her shoulder, eyes alight as he stares down at her, biting his bottom lip. She squeezes once before she moves her hand up and down, using his precum to wet his dick. It becomes harder in her hand and she squeezes her thighs together. 

Jongseong wraps his hand around her wrist and shakes his head. “Not today, darling.” He hisses when she squeezes him. “Tonight is about you. Don’t you want my tongue in you?”

She did, she really, really did. But she wanted this too. She had missed his cock, missed the way it tasted and the way he fell apart on her tongue. 

“You said whatever I wanted. What if I want this?” 

Jongseong smiled at her. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good? My cum in your pussy?” 

His words make her dizzy and she nods, immediately letting his dick go. He grinned at her and she knew that even though she had control, he would always have power over her. She loved it, knowing that he was trying to make it all about her. 

She shuffles backwards onto the bed, stopping only when she reaches the middle. She drops her head on his pillow and looks at him, spreading her legs. He watches her with dark eyes, standing at the foot of the bed. At the sight of her glistening pussy, he crawls onto the bed. 

He rests between her legs and looks down at her, love and affection swelling in his eyes. She almost feels shy at his stare, the sudden urge to cover up became strong. Before she could coverself with her arms, he leans down and captures her lips in a heated gaze. 

His arms are on either side of her head as he kisses her fiercely, his tongue licking at her lips before he sucks on her bottom lip. When he pulls away, she’s breathless and her lips are swollen and her eyes are so glassy. 

“I missed you,” Y/n whispers. He kisses her again, pressing his lips eagerly against hers, trying to convey all his feelings through the kiss. Hoping she knew that she didn’t have to miss him anymore. He was right here, where he belonged. 

“You taste good,” she mumbles, slightly out of breath. 

He kisses her cheek and nose before he begins kissing down her body. He kisses her collar bones before moving to her chest. He kisses both breasts before he captures one nipple in his mouth, hand palming the other. She moans and pushes her head back further into the pillow, eyes shut. He releases that nipple before sucking on the other one, tongue swirling around the bud as he sucked and nipped. 

Her hands travel up his back and into his hair as she pulls, her entire body feels sensitive. Her grip on his hair tightens as he kisses down her body until he reaches her thighs. He moves back, lying down between her spread legs as he kisses her inner thigh. 

True to his nature, he teases her a bit. He lets his lips travel close to her dripping cunt but doesn’t give her the satisfaction. He feels a little bad, but he can’t help. The sight of her cunt dripping is enough to keep him busy. 

“Jongie,” she whines. “Please.” Her breathy voice captivates him, and his eyes soften.

Immediately, Jongseongs stops kissing her inner thigh and shifts his face closer to her cunt, his nose brushing against her folds. She breathes sharply as his tongue gently pokes at her clit before he presses his lips against her cunt, breathing her in. “Taste and smells so good, darling.” 

Her body jerks forward as he licks her slick from her dripping hole up to her clit, moaning as he laps up all her juices. She slides her hands into his hair as he begins to devour her, slurping and sucking on her cunt. 

“Fuck,” Y/n breathes out as he slides his tongue in, pulling at his hair. He buries his face into her cunt, his tongue reaching deep within her. His nose brushes against her swollen folds and he hums into her as she begins grinding down on his face. 

He pushes his nose and tongue as far as they can go, refusing to breathe. The grip she has on his hair is deadly, but he loves it. The pain is enough for him to rut against the mattress, his cock red and rock hard. 

She moans as he pushes his tongue deeper within her, tilting his head. Her hips jerk forward as he sucks loudly. She wraps her legs around his head and he hums in approval, the sound vibrating against the walls of her pussy.

“I’m going to cum, Jongie.” She pants, pulling at his hair even harder. 

Jongseong feels her clench around his tongue and when her body begins to shake, he uses one hand to hold her hips down, tongue pushing deeper. 

She clenches her eyes shut as the build up snaps and she sobs out his name, shaking as her vision blurred with tears. She squeezes her thighs closer together as Jongseong continues to lick up her cum, the bottom half of his face shiny with her slick.

She screamed as his tongue kept pushing into her, lapping up all her juices as she rode out her orgasm on his face. 

“Please, please,” she begged, overstimulated as he sucked her dry. “Jongie. Too much.” 

Jongseong continues to lick from her entrance to her clit, lost in her. She tastes so good on his tongue and he has missed it so much. As she shakes, he begins to slow down his licking, trying to calm her down. 

Her body slowly stops trembling as he presses soft kisses to her bare cunt, spreading her cum all over her thighs as he kisses her bottom half. She stares at him with hooded eyes, another build up right at the edge. 

“You did so good, darling,” he whispers into her thighs. “Cummed so well. You taste amazing.” 

She gasps and hisses, trying to catch her breath. He lifts his head and smiles at the fucked out look on her face, glad that even though it had been a while, no one could do what he could do. 

Her hand is still in his hair and she tightens her grip before pulling him towards her, smashing their lips together. His breath hitches as she licks at his lips, moaning at the taste of herself on him. They kiss harshly, the taste of her cum on both their lips as their chests press together. 

Y/n runs her hands up and down his back, nails lightly grazing his skin and he shudders into her, kissing her neck. He shifts a bit before his dick grazes her swollen folds and they both groan, her nails digging into his back. 

“Fuck me,” she says. “Please, Jongie.” 

“Still want it slow?” He bit her neck, smiling at the slightly discolored patch of skin. 

“No,” she pants. “Fuck me hard. Hard and rough,” she kisses his jaw. “Just need you in me.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips and smiles when she giggles, a softness tearing through all the tension. 

Jongseong lifts his head and presses his forehead against hers as he lines himself with her entrance, his dick wet and covered in her juices. They stare at each other as he pushes the tip in, watching her carefully as her eyes screw shut and her breathing quickens. He keeps the tip in as he presses feather-like kisses to her eyelids and cheeks. 

She opens her eyes and gasps at the intensity in his; the way his eyes shone with love and apologies, his entire being at her disposal. Y/n smiles at him and pushes his chest firmly against hers. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” His voice is low and breathy as his lips hovers hers. 

“Like you’re seeing me for the first time.” 

Instead of answering, he captures her lips in a passionate kiss, lips moving feverishly as he tries to convey all his feelings in words. As she kisses him, she moves her lower half, trying to feel more. 

Jongseong pulls away and stares at the string of spit that connects them, licking his lips as breaks it. “You’re everything to me,” he says. “Everything.” 

She smiles at him and although his dick was inside her and they were both naked, he blushed. He felt his ears warm as she grins at him, her eyes shiny. “You’re everything to me,” she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

They stare at each other as Jongseong rotates his hips once before he slowly pushes himself further into her soaking, tight cunt. He groans at the feeling of her gummy walls sucking him in, welcoming him home. Her breath hitches as she throws her head back. 

“Fuck, darling,” he bites her bottom lip. “So fucking tight.” 

Y/n digs her nails into his back as she squeezes her eyes shut, relishing in the thickness of his cock and how well it filled her up. She mumbled incoherent things as he bottomed out, his cock hitting places inside her she could never reach. 

He rocks his hips against her spread legs, his dick slowly sliding in and out of her soaking cunt. He watches the way his cock disappears completely inside her, his balls hitting against her ass. Jongseong grunts when she squeezes around his cock, quiet mumblings about going faster, harder. 

He smiles before he thrusts harder, his tip pressing against her cervix. Her eyes roll back as she digs her nails deeper into this back, leaving small red marks. 

“So good,” she moans out. “Missed it so much.” Her eyes are watery and her jaw goes slack at the pleasure, his cock brushing against all her sweet spots. She whimpers when one of his hands brushes against her nipples, the feeling of his thumb rubbing against them had her seeing stars. 

Jongseong lowers his head towards her neck and begins to trail soft bites along her shoulders as his hips move harshly against hers. “So good, pretty,” he praises. “Taking me so well.” The pleasure was getting to his head, overtaking his body as her moans mixed with his breathy ones, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other. 

“G–gonna cum,” she stutters, eyes closing as his pace fastens and the bed creaks beneath her. “I’m so close, Jongie.” She sobs as he kisses her forehead. The feeling of pleasure made her dizzy as his building veins rubbed against her walls. 

“Yeah?” His own euphoria bubbled and his vision blurred as he focused on the squelching sounds of his dick pounding into her dripping cunt. He brushed his lips against her forehead. 

“Cum for me, darling. I got you.” He whispered, sweetly. “Let go. Let it all out.” 

He continued to pound into her as she came undone under him, her release washing over her as her body went limp and her legs began to shake. Her vision went white as Jongseong mumbled sweet words, his hips slamming against hers. 

Y/n squeezes her walls around him as she begins to cry, overstimulated as she still cums. At the feeling of her walls tightening, Jongseong releases a long breath as his hips stutter, his own cum pouring out of him.

“I love you,” he pants. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much.” 

His warm cum fills her soaked pussy and he slowly rocks his hips back and forth, pumping his cum back into her. Her hands travel down his back until she pushes his lower back firmly into her, whimpering as his dick pushes the cum deep within her. She keeps her hands there despite crying at the sensitivity. 

Jongseong presses open mouth kisses along her neck and jaw as he still cums, hissing when it all becomes too much for his dick. Her walls are still warm and sticky with their cum but he can’t stop fucking her. Her hands grip his ass as she forces him still, his cock deep within her. 

“Too much,” she mumbles against his neck. “Too much.” When he tries to move, to pull out because of her words, she squeezes his ass tighter and shakes her head, still numb to her senses. “Don’t move,” she bites his neck. 

Jongseong smiles dumbly as he cages her between his arms, letting his body completely cover hers as she keeps him inside her. “Did so amazing for me, love.” He kissed her cheek, his nose wiping a few tears. “Took my cum so well.” 

Y/n simply nods against his neck, eyes still sewn shut as she savours the feeling of his dick inside her. Her pussy squeezes around his cock and she hisses at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Jongseong closes his eyes and breathes her in, his nose against her neck as he licks the skin under her ear, biting softly. He brings one hand up to face and brushes the hair behind her ear. She brings one hand up to her face and grabs his wrist. He watches her with wide eyes as she presses a soft kiss against his ring. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his fingers. His heart skips a beat and he smiles. 

His dick is still hard in her, pulsing as his cum drips out of her. He tries his best not to move, knowing that all she needed right now was the feeling of being full after having been empty for so long. 

“Pretty,” he mumbles against her neck. “You okay? Want me to run you a bath?” He lifts his head and his heart warms at the fondness in her eyes as she looks at him, a soft smile on her plump lips. 

“Not yet.” She squeezes his ass before she moves him, his dick slowly sliding in and out of her. He hisses at the feeling and looks down at her. “Need you again,” she smiles. 

Jongseong smiles at her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He brushes his nose against hers and slowly lifts his body off her, putting his strength back in his legs as he slams into her without warning. 

Y/n whimpers, nails digging further into his back as he slowly rocks his hips. He grins at her and decides that if fucking her silly is what she wants, then it’s what she’ll get. 

“Whatever you want, darling.”

[kiame-sama]

this is so stupid but im currently cracking up the idea of yandere lilia totally forgetting that his (somewhat new) object of obsession has not been informed of his actual age yet and trying to hit on them only to get like.

"Uh huh kiddo, what are you, fourteen?"

and just being stuck going 'no i swear to god im like 400 its a faerie thing please stop laughing i am a father of three-'

What Are you, Twelve? (Yan!Lilia x Reader)

(Changed from 14 to 12 because that is my usual go-to age to guess when kids (under 21) try to hit on me (over 25))

Warnings; Yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, yandere temper, age confusion, Silver/Sebek/Malleus have to vouch for Lilia, old man trying to have game,

~~~~~~~~

"You know, (y/n)," you wanted to sigh when you heard him start up again, knowing the odd lad from Diasomnia was back at his usual antics, "I certainly wouldn't mind a moonlit tousle through the grass with you any night... Or any day, for that matter."

Part of you wanted to laugh and part of you wanted to scream in frustration. This had been ongoing since you met the oddly young vice-housewarden of Diasomnia, Lilia. He was a cherub-faced pallid creature with pointed ears that made him look like an elf, and he was obviously quite interested in you. Problem was, you weren't interested because you were almost certain he wasn't even old enough to attend Night Raven College, let alone be hitting on you in such a direct way.

You would give credit where it is due, Lilia often spoke as if he were an old man and he could occasionally speak as if he were wise beyond his years. Still, that didn't change the fact that you were almost certain he was a child who got in to NRC due to an older sibling. You viewed the black and pink haired boy the same way you viewed Ortho; as a child. Hence the problem you now faced as that same cherub-looking boy shamelessly made a pass at you for the fifth time that day.

It was easy to ignore when you were in class despite how the young boy tried everything in his power to get your attention. However, you were now in the cafeteria and just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. You had been spending time by the table Diasomnia students often occupied because others avoided it, but now you may have to rethink the strategy as Lilia would come bouncing over the moment he saw you.

"Lilia, I just want to eat lunch."

"I would love to eat too! Perhaps later I can have a taste of you?"

Enough was enough. You tried to not snap at others- especially housewardens and vice-housewardens- but this kid was not getting the hint and you were getting annoyed. It had to be something his older siblings put him up to, as even now you could see the Diasomnia students watching the interaction keenly. You hadn't had much time in classes with these magically-gifted students, but you knew enough about them to know which student was likely Lilia's caretaker.

So without a word to Lilia, you stood and marched right over to the table the typical Diasomnia students frequented. The one with white hair- who you knew to be NRC's own 'sleeping beauty' Silver- and stood directly in front of him with a hand on your hip.

"Call off your little brother."

"... Excuse me?"

You pointed to Lilia- who had happily joined your side- with an exasperated sigh.

"Your little brother, call him off or explain to him that children shouldn't flirt with others who are several years their senior."

This made an odd choking sound escape the green haired one sitting next to Silver. Though you didn't know that one's name, you knew enough to recognize he was the one most often yelling in any class he attended. Before he could respond, the slow rumbling lilt of the housewarden of Diasomnia hummed out.

"Lilia is not Silver's little brother."

"Okay," you gave an exasperated shrug, "then whichever of you is supposed to be keeping an eye on him, teach him some manners. Trying to sleep with someone older than him will not end well for either party."

"... Child of man, enlighten me, how old do you believe Lilia to be?"

"Too young to be chasing me."

It was then Lilia spoke up, his usual playful smile gone and replaced with a more contemplative frown.

"I'm old enough."

"Kid, what are you, twelve? I am way too old for you."

The lasting moment of silence almost made you wonder if your assessment of the boy's age was incorrect as those sitting at the table all shared a look. Lilia was no longer the bouncing excitable boy he typically behaved as, straightening up as if he were offended by your assessment.

"Twelve years-? Ah, it seems I've forgotten to inform you of my true identity. I am not human, (y/n). I am Fae. We age differently compared to humans-"

"Okay, so you're several decades old, but you are mentally tweleve. I'm still too old for you."

"... Silver is my son. I raised him, Sebek, and Malleus from infancy or near infancy."

"And I'm the Queen of Hearts. Lies are still lies, Lilia. No matter how well you spin them."

"No, I'm being serious. I am basically a father of three-"

"Lilia, I'm being serious as well. Stop chasing people older than you. It's not alright to ask someone older than you to sit on your face, okay? You shouldn't even be thinking about these things until way later in life."

You walked from the table, content that you had made your point clear as you went back to your own lunch. Lilia was beside himself with surprise and he couldn't help but look to his three sons for some kind of aid or assistance.

"I am not twelve."

"Father... I've told you, if you insist on acting younger than your age, humans are going to believe you are actually young."

"Then you talk to them, Silver. Or I may have to drag Crowley into this. My youthful appearance should not interfere in my attempts to gain their affections. That would explain why they look at me so oddly whenever I try to proposition them, though. Still, you don't want your dear father to end up a lonely old man do you?"

"Of course not, Father, you would be an excellent match for anyone-"

"Exactly my thoughts! So be a good son and wing-man for your father."

"... This is going to end poorly."

[youronlydarlin]

warning: none, Simon knows you can't resist him, Simon loves you so much it's giving me a migraine. Fluffyyyyy

Thinkin' bout Simon who acts all cuddly whenever he wants you in bed.

This is just his strategy, actually. He's noticed your unhealthy sleeping patterns since coming home from deployment. How you're still awake at ungodly hours of the night, and ready to start your day at the ass crack of dawn. It remains a mystery to him how you still go through your daily routine, with the same grace of a rising phoenix as if you weren't counting your blinks as a means of rest.

It's way past 10. And way past the time you should be in bed. But you're still hunched over your desk doing god knows what. He keeps a mental note in his head to come up with a another technique, this time for your bad posture.

He stalks towards you carefully, trying to make as little sound as possible. Large biceps wrapping around your middle while he nuzzles his nose into the crook if your neck. His stance looks uncomfortable, with his back slightly bent down to get close to your sitting body. And you abandon whatever it was you're doing in favor of cupping his face with both of your hands. The slight stubble on his jaw tickles your palms and you can't help but give a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

Sighing, Simon's shoulders relax at your touch. He pulls you closer to his chest and you laugh at the funny angle you're in. Only sitting at the edge of your chair now. The world is still and quiet, letting an intimate moment be shared between two lovers.

A long, loving kiss was given to your forehead, paired up with a warm hand slowly stroking your back and all of a sudden everything's that happened throughout the week is catching up to you. Feeling your eyelids slowly drop, you sling your arms around Simons neck. He knows exactly what that gesture means and he's already hooked his arms under your knees. Carrying you like a bride.

Gives one more kiss to the top of your head before saying "S' time for bed, doll..."

And you're nearly knocked out because of how soothing his voice is. You admit defeat, resting your head on his soft chest. Closing your eyes as you slowly drift off to a peaceful sleep.

"... Goodnight, Si.."

".. Goodnight, love.."

Gotcha.

Simon says in his head.

a/n: I am extremely eepy. But I choose soft Simon over sleep. Hopefully your getting enough rest, my darlings! Don't be like me!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[seirindono]

What are Sloth Sans/Demon Sans Powers; relationships; what is he like in the other runs???

Ok, let's talk about Demon! Sans!

The embodiment of idleness, he's the predator of many emotions and states linked to this sin, such as apathy, depression and resignation.

We've already talked about his use of illusions (music/ hypnosis) to charm and disarm his victims, dreams being his preferred hunting ground, and one his unique ability (your personnal sleep paralysis demon), but he's just as much as a threat in real life!

His preferred strategy is to lower the enemy's stats (DEF, ATK, HP, etc) so he can finish them off with a single strike or, better yet, let their body slowly die while he lulls their soul into an endless dream.

He gradually deprives them of the desire to attack or defend themselves, amplifying the fatigue (physical and psychological) and sense of powerlessness, of helplessness hidden deep in their souls.

If he's in a playful mood or if his victim has upset him, he takes great pleasure in awakening their traumas by peering into their unconscious and projecting nightmarish hallucinations. Making them super aware of their situation is also effective: they can't defeat him, and even if they could or if he decided to spare them, only death and more pain awaits them at the end of their journey, by the hand of another Lord or bc they're litteraly in hell. However, his habit of granting a “peaceful death” is viewed as merciful compared to the other Lords (or cruel and messed up by others)

A word of advice, however, to intruders venturing into his Snowdin territory: if you stumble upon his collection of ice statues or a suspicious pile of snow, keep walking and don't touch anything.

----

I'll focus on the relationships showed here

Gluttony - His brother. He practically raised him and supports him to this day, going so far as to share the territory where they grew up (Snowdin). Demons tend to avoid such close ties, as it can become a weakness, but the Skeleton brothers are a rare exception, having proven time and again their ruthlessness.

Lust - They don't usually interact but Lust suspects he's hiding something from the other Lords. + there was the time he teleported in his sleep onto the set of Lust (live broadcast), putting everyone in the audience to sleep. He doesn't remember but Mettaton might hold a ti~ny grudge.

Pride - A combination of distrust and disapproval of some of the King's past decisions. He remains loyal to him, but doesn't mind the distance between their respective territories.

Wrath (former) - Lord from the past generation. He was close to them and received a lot of help from both him and their skeleton friend. Both disappeared overnight, their names erased from the archives as Undyne took on the now vacant role. He can't openly look for them bc of the King's order, but he assumes they must have found a way to hide somewhere…

Frisk - The kid that somehow managed to become friend with his brother and is now cosplaying as an imp. He has no interest in directly harming them, only playing tricks on them and witness how far they can make it with that puny soul.

---

Other runs:

This part is still a WIP since I've mostly worked on a "neutral route" so far lol Also, Demons are, well, "bad", so the genocide run requires more reflection

Neutral:

Mischievous and willfully neglectful, he tolerates Frisk and the player on his territory, but doesn't go out of his way to help them since his brother is already helping.

Pacifist:

Still playful and unbothered, but Papyrus has told him all about Frisk's adventures and how they became friends with other Demons. He is curious and may appear at randoms moments in the run to help the player (tell them about a secret passage in Waterfall or come and play an instrument for Lust's show and put the whole audience to sleep).

.Gives Frisk a bone instrument (a very tiny violon) to celebrate their friendship and shares some secrets with them, like the origin of the bells on his and his brother's horns and how hell used to be before the Queen left.

Genocide:

Same as neutral until he kills Frisk for the first time. He'll trigger a blizzard on the next playthrough to block the door leading to HOME, trapping the player in the empty ruins to observe their reaction. If the player manages to find another way out (or force their way out), Sloth will appear to them only as illusions, asking what they are and mocking them for thinking they can defeat what is already dead, nonetheless sans is willing to watch them try.

.Observes and creates illusions along the way to hinder Frisk. He reveals that sinners can't escape hell until they're freed from their sins, and that the player will undoubtedly end up in the hands of Pride, the King and Demon who rules over those with egos as big as the player's (=that's why he and the other Lords are just toying with the player, they don't see them as a real threat and nobody wants to double-cross the King anyway).

.He's not that bothered by the actions of the player, they're demons and it's hell after all. He might even enjoy watching this more than the pacifist run at first....

edit:

Hm.... Actually, maybe I should rename these. Something like : Redemption or Sinner route idk the expectations are different from canon UT, Demons are USED to killing and stuff. Even if one of them die, a new demon reappear. No, the real surprise would be if someone tried to do good for once, wouldn't it?

As I said, it's a WIP

PHEW, there you go. That was a lot, enjoy!

[himezoro]

HI, i’m just soo in love with the way you portray zoro so i was thinking about a request (only if u want to, ofcc)

imagine reader having feelings for zoro and be reciprocated (but reader still doesn’t know bc zoro’s not the best at expressing feelings) they’re in wano and with the way hiyori treats zoro reader thinks zoro likes hiyori so reader puts some distance between them and zoro and gets closer to law (bc i think they’re kinda similar up to some point) AND ZORO NOTICES IT.

that’s it for my request, kinda specific lol, HAVE A NICE DAY and feel free to take as much time as you need if you decide to give it a go <3

i’m so sorry for the wait, but istg I really wanted to give it a go as you said!! <3 the reader is set to be the crew’s strategist/scholar, just like in this one shot (though this request is not meant to be the following of the later!). the events I’m describing are not 100% accurate with the exact way wano happened (in terms of strategy meetings etc etc) but I felt more comfortable this way!! i didn't know if you wanted a good or bad ending, so i went for the first option to compensate with the long wait :( i hope you enjoy it <3

wc: 1.7 ish

stolen times

Saying you only had yourself to blame and your sole eyes to cry, was an understatement.

As the crew’s strategist, you offered to split at Zou in order for everyone to attend the two issues at end: saving Sanji, and the people of Wano. Because of your valuable knowledge and abilities, you stayed alongside Law, Robin, Franky, and Zoro, while the rest of the crew left for Whole Cake island. Considering the matter at hand, everyone had to stick to their role, even if it meant pretending not to know one another.

Even if it meant pretending not to know Roronoa Zoro.

Saying you knew Roronoa Zoro was also an understatement. After all the time you spent alongside the swordsman, it felt like you understood him pretty well, without as much as a word. You understood his thrive to perfect his craft, his dedication, his patience regarding improvement, his need for meditation and peace, his oath. You knew his favorite mug to drink from, the way he likes his rice, his favorite sleeping position. You could hear the laughters he would let while talking to Luffy, see the protective hold he would have on Chopper while walking, see the flex of his strong built, the blink of his dark eye, the bite on his lower lip.

Everything from Roronoa Zoro was framed in the back of your eye. You loved, admired the swordsman. Your relationship with him was pleasant, even though it lacked the romance you so craved for. He would often stay by your side while you worked in your office claiming it was a quiet space and ask if you ate before working, sit next to you during meetings and meals, lay a hand on your waist when walking down the dock, and always, always, look your way before getting into a fight with an enemy. Other than that, nothing was truly shared between the two of you, and because of Zoro’s silence regarding his feelings, your mind never allowed itself to wander through the possibilities of his heart, while the later would try its best concealing your desires.

So pretending not to know about the way another woman was treating him and tending to his needs was torture. And none of this would have happened if you had ruled for Zoro to go to Whole Cake. Which is why you deeply cursed yourself, even though it was for a greater cause.

Time seemed long until you all reunited at Wano and start planning for the assault on Kaido. So when you did reunite with everyone, your jaw almost dropped to the floor when Brook mentioned walking in on Hiyori sleeping on top of Zoro. Pretending not to care was harder than pretending not to know, so you decided to ignore the green-haired male and stay focused on your task. Even if it meant not listening to the drums of your heart and its song.

Which led to raise confusion in Zoro’s mind. He was not explicit with words, but weren’t his gestures enough? Did you not understand him like he thought you did?

He would be lying if he said he did not mind your distant attitude. He would even go as far as saying that he felt bothered by it, especially after spending quite some time apart pretending not to know one another. He was surprised to not see your usual smile when you looked at him, and not have you saving him a spot next to your figure.

Instead, there was Trafalgar Law.

And it seemed you enjoyed his company. He could see the two of you talking intently and the way he would lower his head so he could hear you more amongst the ruckus. He could see the way his grey eyes would pierce at your features, like a hawk. Hell, he even saw how Law casually laid a hand on your arm when you got up the table to wash your hands.

Zoro clicked his tongue and threw daggers at Law with his one functioning eye, wishing his eye could kill.

When the reunion ended and everyone started leaving to their room, the swordsman could not help himself but bump into you on his way, which you could not possibly ignore. Your eyes met before you averted your gaze and started walking again, which he prevented by standing your way.

And yet, he did not let out a single word. Or at least, not a single one he wished to say.

“Enjoying the alliance I see.”

You scoffed, your pride taking advantage.

“So do you, Roronoa”, you looked down at Enma with an arched brow, “Nice sword you have here.”

“Thanks, Hiyori gave it to me.” he answered, not noticing the ice in your tone, or maybe ignoring it for how warm he felt hearing your voice, even if it lacked its usual honey.

Hearing the name you resented triggered your jealousy. You simply nodded and formed an “oh” with your lips, its shape taking his breath away. It took him a lot of strength not to plant a kiss on your pout, but before he could even argue, someone called you, interrupting his train of thought.

“(Y/N)-ya, I need your input on the number of fleets for the assault before we head out.” Law said from behind Zoro, which prevented the doctor from seeing the grim look on the swordsman’s face.

“Already on first name basis with the Doctor huh?” Zoro said, clicking his tongue in the process.

Just like you with Hiyori, you wished to say. You wanted to shake him off, ask him what the matter was if Law used your first name. You wanted him to tell you he liked you and not Hiyori, and him to throw his new sword away. You knew these were unfair feelings, and probably a little mean. If Zoro had found solace in the kindness of Hiyori and the beauty of Wano, then there was nothing for you to do, right?

With these invading thoughts in mind, you simply sighed and offered him a small, sad smile before joining Law in his quarters.

“I’ll see you in three days for the assault. Please train well, everyone is counting on you.”

Seeing you walk past him to join Law hurt him more than he wished to admit. He did not turn around to watch you walk away, swallowing whole. He waited a second before walking away as well, regrouping with Hiyori.

// the festivities after the assault //

When Kaido was defeated after much efforts, the Mugiwara and the alliance craved for a celebration. Everyone was reunited on the Sunny amongst sake, flowers, food, music and laughters.

You had your back resting on the railing, enjoying the breeze in your hair with a cup of your favorite drink in your hand, looking at the rejoice faces around you. Of course, your eyes followed the trail of Zoro, and the fact that the swordsman was still sitting with Hyori.

Sighing, you felt the presence of Law getting closer to yours. He stood beside you, his eyes looking in the same direction as yours.

“I have to admit (Y/N)-ya, you remarkably led the battlefield.”

”Because you doubted this alliance? Here I thought we were able of performing miracles.” you playfully added using his phrases, slightly shoving the Doctor in the process. Trafalgar Law felt himself smirking, not bothering to answer your gentle attack, surprisingly, simply enjoying your presence.

During the course of this alliance, you had gotten closer with the Doctor. His quietness and charisma was similar to Zoro’s, even though he was not as large as the green-haired. Law found himself enjoying talking to you, especially in this setting. He thought you were intelligent and committed to your work, dedicated to saving lives with the best plans, just like he dedicated his life as a doctor to save others. You could see how he grew accustomed to the crew’s nonchalant antics, and safe around you all. Even you were surprised that he did not betray Luffy’s trust, since you were part of the ones that doubted Luffy’s decision.

But getting closer to Law, even as amicably as your relationship with him was, did not go unnoticed, especially by the swordsman himself. Three days ago, he felt a gap between the two of you, which he was not used to. Him, who was so used to stay by your side when you stayed on the railing to lovingly keep an eye on everyone. Him, who was so used to enjoying your presence and your scent. Him, that was now staring at you and Law amidst the laughters of his friends, ignoring Hiyori beside him.

Right now, he had two options at hand. Either closing the distance, or risking losing you to another world.

“Go talk to her.” he heard Hiyori’s voice beside him speak, which cut his train of thought.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I feel like I got to know you enough to know that (Y/N)-san holds a dear place to your heart. Pardon me if I am wrong, though, but she may not be aware of your feelings.”

Zoro sighed and did not find the words to answer Hiyori. Instead, he kept his eye on you all along. You were so beautiful, glorious.

When Law left to get you another drink, Zoro took this opportunity to get up and walk to you, his presence getting more and more overpowering as he got closer to you. As he got beside you, you did not dare to move, feeling a pull.

There he stayed beside you, enjoying your presence as he should. The air blowing in your hair danced its way to his heart again, a dusty shade of pink coloring his features. On your hand, it felt hard to talk, a mix of sadness, desire, pride and guilt creeping in your heart.

The swordsman crossed his arm as he kept his built back onto the railing, finally uttering the words he wished to say, closing his one eye.

“You were missed, you better know that.”

And all he heard was your scoff and laugh at his subtle yet commanding hint.

“What’s making ya laugh, woman?” he turned to you, opening his eye, basking in your glory.

“You are, Zoro. You are clearly implying that you missed my presence, while you’re here with your girlfriend! It’s preposterous, even for you.” You said, trying to calm your laughter, clearly a defense mechanism.

“Huh?! Are you insane?! Who are you talking about?” he asked, dumbfounded with a bit of irritation.

“Hiyori, who else? I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world. But you should not imply things you either do not mean or should not mean in a relationship.”

“What relationship are you even talking about for God’s sake? Are you high? Drunk?”

“Stop lying to me! I understand you have boundaries and secrets and all, but I saw how the two of you are acting! And Brook even told me you slept together! So please, for the sake of my heart, Zoro : do not say words you should not say when you are involved with someone else.”

You let out a huge sigh at the end of your speech, trying your best to keep your composure. Zoro stared at you, quite confused at your words. But amidst them all, Zoro remembered how he understood you like no one could. And in spite of your ludicrous accusations, Zoro knew better. Regardless of him knowing better, his stubbornness got the best of him at that moment.

“You’re one to talk, with Tra-guy sticking to you. He’s been all over you, ready to steal you away from me and the crew.”

“What are you even talking about? I am not planning on leaving you and the crew, and Law is just a friend. Surely, he is not interested in stealing me away on his submarine. Don’t be preposterous.”

“Only an idiot wouldn’t want to steal you away if they could.”

Your eyes met his for a moment, and it felt obvious. Natural. Before Law could come back with the drink you wanted, you offered him a small smile, set on cutting the tension.

“So, are you dating Hiyori?”

“I thought it was clear that I’m not interested in dating her.” he replied, which made you look at him with an arched brow.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Just as obvious as your probable feelings for me, if you want my opinion.”

Zoro sighed, blaming himself for not being able to normally express his feelings to you, worried, that someone like Law could.

“How can I make my feelings clearer then?” he genuinely asked, feeling Law coming your way.

“You could start by getting me a drink?” you suggested with a knowing smile as Law arrived in front of the two of you.

Needless to say, Zoro forcefully took the drink from the other captain’s hands to hand it to you, with a smirk on his lips.

“Ain’t nobody stealing my girl here, Tra-guy.” he muttered to his “rival”, leaving Law confused and you laughing.

From that moment on, the distance finally closed and Zoro felt exactly where he belonged: right by your side.

[httpswritings]

the sweetest symphony

alexia putellas x reader; this story is +18.

The Barcelona night pulsated with a rhythmic hum, a symphony of honking taxis and distant laughter that usually lulled Alexia into a peaceful sleep. Tonight, however, the city's vibrant melody was a cruel counterpoint to the hollowness beside her. You were gone, swallowed by a business trip and a time difference that felt like an ocean separating you. Days, it felt like a lifetime.

The king-sized bed, usually a haven of shared warmth and tangled limbs, felt like a vast, uncharted territory. Alexia, the woman who commanded stadiums and dictated the pace of the game, felt utterly adrift without your anchor. She was a creature of touch, thriving on the unspoken language of intertwined fingers and playful nudges against her side. The silence in the apartment was suffocating, broken only by the relentless tick of the clock on the nightstand mocking her with its cruel 3:14 AM display.

She tossed and turned, the sheets cool and impersonal. Her mind, usually laser-focused on the upcoming season's strategies, drifted down a familiar path. Memories of nights spent entangled in your embrace filled her head like a silent movie. You, sprawled contentedly over her, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that earned you the endearing nickname "koala" for your unwavering adherence to her side.

But tonight, the memory morphed, taking a more heated turn. A slow grind against her thigh, deliberate and calculated, sent a familiar jolt of electricity through her. The whisper of your lips against her neck, a brand that ignited a fire in her core, left her skin tingling with the phantom touch. Her hand, drawn by an insatiable need, found its way south.

"Yeah, amor, right there," she murmured into the empty space, the words echoing hollowly in the vast expanse of the bed. You always praised her, those words a sweet nectar that heightened her pleasure during your intimate moments. A small smile played on her lips. It had been one of your greatest triumphs, chipping away at the wall of control she'd built so meticulously around herself. Learning to be vulnerable, to let you see her deepest desires, had been a revelation.

The thought of your hands taking over, exploring her with a knowing touch, sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice husky and urgent. You knew exactly where to find her sweet spots, your touch a map etched into her memory. Her voice, usually strong and composed even in the throes of competition, became a desperate plea, the vulnerability exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

The room grew thick with heat, the air thick with her increasingly ragged breaths. Her hair, escaping its secure braid, became a halo of damp curls clinging to her forehead. Her moans, a melody you'd once described as "the sweetest symphony," echoed off the silent walls, an arousing counterpoint to the city's lullaby.

As the climax surged through her, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, it was followed by a crushing wave of loneliness. She curled onto your side of the bed, burying her face in the pillow that still held a faint trace of your cologne. It wasn't the same. It was a pale imitation of the real thing, a cruel reminder of the warmth and comfort you brought.

Exhaustion eventually claimed her, sleep a welcome thief stealing her away from the emptiness. But the battle with the lonesome sheets would continue until your return. In her dreams, though, you'd be there, close and warm, erasing the ache of your absence. The wait would be long, but the memory of your touch, the echo of your voice whispering sweet nothings, would serve as a beacon. A promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both, a reminder of the connection that transcended the miles and the cold, impersonal sheets.

[kidsinnowadays]

How to Banish Bedtime Battles Forever: 8 Supernatural Techniques for Sleeping Angels

Discover magical bedtime strategies that will transform your children into peaceful sleeping angels, ensuring a restful night for everyone. #BedtimeRoutine #PeacefulSleep #ParentingTips #SleepingAngels

Embracing Peaceful Nights and Restful Sleep Bedtime battles with children can turn your evenings into a battleground, leaving both parents and little ones exhausted. As a parent, you long for peaceful nights and restful sleep for your child (and yourself). But fear not, for we’re about to unveil eight supernatural techniques that will help you banish bedtime battles forever. These techniques…

[kalki-tarot]

Your Future spouse's Late night Feelings

Pick only one picture that calls you out the most. Meditate and stay calm. 🤍✨️

This reading is only meant for entertainment purposes and kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make in your life on behalf of these readings. The future is not set in stone and can be changed by only you. You have your own free will and you should be responsible for it.

This reading will talk about anything that comes through about what your future spouse thinks and feels late at night. Please take what resonates and leave the rest.

PILE 01.

First of all, they think of how they can become a better partner for you. They try to analyse themselves and think about how to please you more through their efforts. They think of giving you their love and affection but their inner conflicts stop them from doing so. They nay have anxiety or overthink a lot. They argue with themselves in their heads most of the times.

They think about their career too and what they can do to achieve more in life. They think of what higher education they should take up. Something heartbreaking must've happened in the past with them and they try to avoid these thoughts surrounding that painful situation but they can't help it. They get emotional and yearn for justice for what pain they have to go through.

I heard "conversations with god". If they believe in some higher power, they do talk to it and try to not cry. But they are overcoming this slowly. There is a woman in the picture, it can be you also, if you are in a relationship. They want to mend things with you. They want to start new. They are ready to give you what you want.

If you're not in a relationship then this person had a woman in their lives who broke their heart. They were too invested in it. They thought of them as their world but they broke their trust. They had arguments and shady fights. All these thoughts surround this person at night.

PILE 02.

This person is very lonely but not in a bad way or you can say that they are usually by themselves most of the time but they are actually comfortable in this silence. They have a hard time sleeping, it may take an hour for them to actually sleep. Very light sleep.

Most of the times when they are lying in their bed at night they criticize themselves. They want to do a lot of things and they think of plans and strategies. They don't really think about love, maybe you haven't entered in their life yet. They may have past lovers but they are over them fully. They are mature and grounded, very understanding person. They don't stay stuck in places. They think of their karmas and their destiny. Where would life take them next?

This is the best pile, they don't seem to worry about anything. Very peacful and no drama energy. I like this! They are comfortable with themselves. They may read books at night. And they create new stories in their heads. They think of how to make themselves a better human being. They also self introspect alot.

They think of starting something new or just doing new adventurous things. They also meditate late at night so they don't really have thoughts and significant feelings at night lmao. They try to heal themselves through this. They are slowly getting over a lot of things currently. It's their 'no drama only positive vibes' era.

PILE 03.

First of all, this can be a twinflame connection or you guys mirror eachother a lot. You feel what they feel and vice versa. 11, 22, 33 can be significant. This person definitely feels heartbroken in love.

I don't know but there is a 3rd party who's giving me energy sucker vibes. This person who you are asking about is a vercy compassionate human being and gives others more than they deserve. The same they did with this 3rd party but they used them.

They feel heartbroken because of this situation and now they are just focusing on their career. They are forced to leave this connection but there is something which is blocking them from doing so. Their guides are not letting them be in a toxic situation but they are not understanding the signs as these signs lead them to you. And they feel hella confused outta this situation.