#YOU PULLED A KNIFE ON YOUR HUSBAND AND CHILD

[cheshitora]

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛psycho x killer

baji keisuke ver. (1/3 valhalla trio)

on the stand :: baji keisuke x afab!reader

crimes committed :: DARK CONTENT, smut, nsfw, aged up characters, murder, masochism, sadism (i'll tag it just in case), strangling, asphyxiation, mentions of death, mentions of deadly chemicals, minor character death, body rejuvenation, immortal baji, noncon/dubcon (technically. i'll add both in case), spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything. Read at your own discretion. MDNI

che's verdict :: heyyy. i liked the idea. so i had to write for valhalla trio too lol. they were supposed to be short drabbles but i yap too much lol. anyways enjoy

word count :: 1.3k - it was supposed to be a drabble lol

"you got me feelin' like a psycho.."

Don’t think you can try to fool Keisuke - you can’t. He may have passively allowed you to continue your little murder spree on him but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll let you have your way every time, if at all.

Your raven haired lover is keenly aware of any and all planned attacks and strategies you’ve thought you cleverly hid from him. Well, you were wrong. Because he didn’t fall for the old “open the door and get an ax to the face” trick. He certainly wasn't allowing himself to trip and fall back on a clearly visible gasoline puddle for you to set aflame. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to discern the bitter smell of almonds in his waffles, finding the powdered sugar sprinkled delicately on top to be laced with cyanide. Nice try, but he wasn’t eating those.

Instead, he invited your next door neighbor to come over and eat the nicely made breakfast. Your neighbor who had gotten too close to comfort with you, always stealing glances your way and making inappropriate comments about your physique and attire when he presumed Keisuke would be out of earshot.

Boy, was he wrong and it nearly brought tears of joy to Keisuke’s eyes as he watched the sleazy man choke from the burning chemical in his throat, his face contorting in agony as he face planted into the plate of breakfast in front of him. Another one bites the dust.

You would sigh a breath of exhaustion, coming to terms that your futile attempts at your husband’s life were child’s play and Keisuke found it almost adorable when your moxy began to diminish. You even resorted to just sprinting towards him with a large, steel kitchen knife, aiming for his covered heart when he easily gripped your wrist the second you were in close range.

“Really? You can do better than that,” he smirked, swiping the cleaver from your grip with a low chuckle.

Poor girl, he thought but he knew your tricks and you found it increasingly difficult to fool your honey eyed husband. It was almost funny how hard you tried to end his life, though he knew it would be nearly impossible - he was an immortal, after all. There was no actual chance of you sending him back to the underworld with which he assumedly originated from, until today.

On this night, with mere luck to your advantage, just as you were heading off to bed, you clasped a string of thick, wooly rope in your palms, silently trudging towards your husband’s backside as he sat facing away from, leaning against the backrest of your couch with a beer in hand.

And before he could react to your sudden presence behind him, you quickly wrapped the thick rope around his neck, bracing your foot against the couch as you pulled back with all your might, your raven haired husband thrashing about, desperately fingering the rope trapped against the skin of his neck.

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead and chest - your husband was strong and holding him back with your own strength was proving to be a difficult task until you noticed the change in his color, his olive skin turning red from asphyxiation. Suddenly, the red shifted to a blue hue, a telltale sign of his life slipping from his body and then - he went limp.

You stared at him in horror, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you made out the sight of your dead lover: bloodshot eyes, head leaned over the backrest of the couch, mouth agape, fingers still hooked under the rope, unbreathing, lifeless.

You stood there in utter shock, unwilling to take a step towards the man you called your husband. You knew it wouldn’t have been possible for him to actually kick the bucket but for a split second as his heart stopped, you feared the worst. Your hands reached out towards him before he unexpectedly inhaled a large gasp of air, jolting you out of your stupor, a shrill shriek escaping your lungs as Keisuke breathed heavily, tossing the length of rope aside as he rubbed his now bruised neck with his hands.

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest, feeling like you were on the verge of a heart attack as Keisuke shifted his attention towards you, knitting his brows in what seemingly looked like a mix of anger and admiration, perhaps even arousal. 

“Fuck, you actually did it,” he rasped out. This was the first time, and maybe even the only time, you’ve successfully murdered your husband, but now he was ready to take vengeance on you.

Now, Keisuke would never hurt you intentionally. Well, he would but only if it was meant to bring you pleasure and right now, he couldn’t think of a better way to praise and reprimand you than to lay you across his lap, hiking up the thin cotton of your small night dress, revealing your panty clad ass to his hungry eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he brought his rough, calloused hand down against your backside with a loud, thundering clap, making you squeal out in pain.

One slap. Two slaps. Three. Four. Five.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take, your eyes brimming with tears as your legs shook from the stinging pain on your plush ass, underwear soaked from your growing arousal.

“Tappin’ out already? I haven’t even gotten to ten yet,” he laughed, hooking his fingers under the elastic band of your panties, shimmying them down your hips, your cunt glistening with arousal.

“Dirty slut.” He spread your legs further apart, tracing the tip of his finger against your weeping slit, a small whimper seeping from your lips before he rammed two digits into your tight cunt, eliciting a loud, drawn out moan from your throat. 

Without any warning, Keisuke pistoned his fingers in and out of your fluttering walls, all the while his other hand continued to deliver blow after blow to your tender skin. You writhed on his lap, mewls and whimpers tumbling off your lips in place of actual words, your vision becoming blurry with a wall of tears.

God, you were so pretty when you cried, beautiful and he loved every spill of salty droplets that stained your reddened cheeks. It took every ounce of him not to pin you to the couch and plunge his hardening cock past your slick folds. But he needed to punish you first. He wanted to see how far he could push you until you were a crying, shivering mess. You weren’t about to kill him and get away so easily without facing the consequences and for Keisuke, he wasn’t about to not break a sweat teaching you a lesson.

His dick twitched in his pants as he saw more tears flooding your eyes, a sadistic grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the pace of his hand quickened, the sound of squelching filling the once quiet space that had been disturbed when you cleverly caught your raven haired husband by surprise.

He was past ten slaps but he wanted to see how much more you could take. He felt your walls tighten around his digits, a warning sign that you were close, just on the precipice of releasing until he pulled his fingers out, your tight hole clenching around nothing as you whined, desperate for him to fill you back up again. He grabbed a fistful of your hair with his spanking hand, pulling your head back as licked your sweet honey off his fingers.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I don’t think you deserve to cum.”

You whined again, his hand gripping your hair harder, almost painful as he nibbled your earlobe. It was going to be a long night of punishment but a subtle smile etched across your face as he smacked your ass again, knowing the punishment was all too worth it.

Perhaps you should try to kill him again tomorrow. If you’re successful, you might just get punished again.

©ABOVE WORK BELONGS TO CHESHITORA. PLAGARISM AND STEALING WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR ORIGINAL CREATORS

[cimeriansparrow]

Sister's therapist called child protective services on my mother!!

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[versupital]

your panties scare me, can i take them off?

pov. you got new halloween panties/pajamas and he’s about to lose his mind.

content: implied smut, breath play (toji), virgin!choso, sexual content (MDI), husband!nanami, breeding kink (nanami), roommate!gojo, afab!reader

incl pairings: choso, nanami, gojo, toji

word count. 2.1k

soundtrack 💿🌧️: sex on sight ft. usher

Choso.

"Mmh..."

You lay on the bed, entangled in burly arms and the scent of aftershave. Your boyfriend is attacking you in sloppy kisses, all down your neck and jaw, as screams beam out of the TV from the horror movie you'd stopped watching about ten minutes ago.

His hand roams dangerously over your side while your nails dig into his back for stability. The two of you have yet to take things as far as penetration, so it’s all you can do to fight back the urge to whip his cock out and plop down on it.

You wonder if tonight things are going to finally change, as you feel your panties grow damper, and Choso's cock digging into your stomach through his sweats.

"Why do we always do this?" Choso breathes. “We start a movie we can't even finish."

You laugh against him before it melts into a moan at the reminder of his wet lips. "Because I don’t like scary movies, Cho. ‘M so afraid.”

Choso grunts against your skin, "Really? How can i make you feel better?”

You huff and roll onto your back. Choso doesn't waste any time climbing over you, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You can start by taking my shorts off,” you instruct, eyes filled with lust as you stare up at your ebony-haired partner.

He pauses his kisses to look down at you in surprise. "Y-You want to...?"

"Yes," you nod, biting your lip. “Don’t y’wanna comfort me from the scary monsters on the TV?”

Choso nods eagerly, and his big hands come up to your waistband to begin pulling down your shorts. As the material slides over your thighs, he pauses and stares with furrowed brows, right at your underwear.

"Um, baby?" he cocks his head to the side. "Who is... V.S.?"

You let out an exasperated breath before smiling. "That stands for Victoria's Secret, Cho. It's a lingerie brand."

His eyes bulge and he looks back up at you, "Lingerie?"

He continues to slide the shorts all the way off, to reveal your blood red thong with a tiny white ghost on the front. You suspect the ghost is supposed to look like a glob of cum, and you imagine Choso’s in its place.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, "you wore these f'me?"

"Who else, Cho?" you run your hands over your stomach seductively, patting the top of the thong. "You like?”

Choso's eyes flash white, and he hooks his fingers over the skinny string that keeps the thong around your waist.

"Shit, I..." he swallows thickly. "Love them. You have more like this?”

You nod confidently. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you see them one at a time.”

You wink and Choso’s nervous hands remain entangled in the strings of your thong. “What if I can’t please you?”

"Not possible," you shake your head, running your hands into his hair, grateful he’d taken it out of its pigtails for his shower. "I nearly cum every time we make out."

His eyes widen. "Oh, so it's not just me," he breathes out in relief.

You giggle and spread your legs a little more, your lips threatening to pop right out of the terribly small pair of panties.

A girl shrieks on the TV and there is the sound of a slashing knife.

You fake a shiver, "Oh, Cho! I'm so afraid. Mmh, hurry and make me feel better.”

Choso smirks and rips down your panties, knowing that the neighbors are going to think someone is really being murdered by the time he’s done with you.

Nanami.

"Excuse me, my love."

You turn in place to see your husband, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom as you brush your teeth.

"Hmph, yes?" you mumble around your toothbrush, your face heating in the same way it always does when you see him, no matter how long you’ve been together.

Nanami stands awkwardly in the doorframe, shifting his weight like a nervous child. He's in his own version of pajamas: a white shirt, plaid pants, and house shoes. His hand raises and he points to your legs.

"When did you acquire those?" he asks delicately, referring to the tiny orange shorts you have on that are patterned in bats.

"The shorts?" you mumble, before removing your toothbrush and spitting out the toothpaste. "Um, I got them yesterday while costume shopping with the kids. Why?"

Nanami laces his fingers together. "I just thought I'd seen all of your clothes, because you always try them on for me. You didn't..." he inhales a ragged breath. "You didn't show me these. Is there a reason?"

You nearly feel your heart shatter through your ribcage. Nanami clearly looks distraught that you failed to give him a fashion show. At the same time, you notice his pajama pants growing a friendly tent in them, and you suspect you know the real reason he is upset.

"I... wanted it to be a surprise, Ken," you say, pat drying your mouth on a washcloth, before walking towards him, all minty and shower fresh.

"A surprise?" Nanami questions, visibly getting tense as you approach.

"Mhmm..." you tiptoe your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. "You like them?"

"That's a very loaded question," Nanami mutters. "I like anything you wear."

"But these seem to be having a different effect on you, honey," you coo, tilting your head to the side, resting your hand on the back of his neck - his sweet spot.

You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yes," he whispers, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "They’re really… small. And we, you know, can’t do things as often anymore with the baby… I just miss you.”

You sigh, relaxing under his touch. “Right. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Nanami lets out a feral noise. "No, I’m not. I feel like a horny teenager. Just need you really bad.”

“I haven’t seen you this desperate in a while, honey,” you say, taking a step back, letting your hands fall off of each other. "Go ahead. Take them off.”

Nanami doesn't hesitate. His big hands gently peel down the waistband, and he bites his lip as he examines what’s underneath.

"You're not wearing underwear," he realizes with a breath. “Gonna make me lose myself here, Y/N.”

"Well, I was thinking..." you cock your head to the side. "One more baby wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Nanami's eyes grow a bit larger. “D-don’t say that.”

“Know you’ve been trying so hard not to finish in me,” you coo, “but don’t you miss it?”

“Y/N…” his knuckles go white as he nearly rips the material of your little shorts. “We really shouldn’t.”

"No, but ngh..." you roll your hips under his hands. "Wouldn't it be fun to see how feral we can get?"

"I am already ‘feral’ just looking at these shorts, Y/N." Nanami nearly whines, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, waiting for you to give him the word.

"Really," you whisper on his neck, planting a kiss there soon after. "That was easier than I thought.”

Nanami sighs against you. "Why are you so good at this, hm, little minx?"

You smile against his skin, "Why are my shorts still on, Kento?"

Nanami growls, all guttural and primal instinct, and your back is crashing against the counter in an instant.

You bite your lip, "Eager?” you question.

"You have no idea." He hums as he slides down the orange garment, staring at them. "Did you buy any more?”

"Maybe," you say quietly, blinking as you try to picture what he's going to do to you next.

"Good," he parts your legs and stands between them before using his thick hands to open your mouth and shove the shorts right inside of it. “We’ll need these so we don’t wake the baby.”

Gojo.

"You wanna be me so fucking bad!"

You spin slowly in place, holding a piece of popcorn only halfway to your mouth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Your eyes land on your roommate's bottoms, a plush pair of Friday-the-13th pajama pants. They are exactly like the boy shorts you’re wearing, the ones that have ridden up and cover basically nothing.

"If you wanted to match, you could've just said that," Gojo huffs, crossing his arms.

You raise your eyebrow, "I’ve had these for a long time. You're the one who wants to be like me."

Gojo scoffs. "Why haven’t I ever seen them, then?" He shoves his hands in his pockets. “And au contraire, madamoiselle, I want to be in you. Huuuge difference there.”

You cough a bit, choking on nothing, unable to respond.

"Of course, choking on my cock could definitely work too," Gojo mutters, examining his nails. "Maybe teach you a lesson about walking around in just your panties."

You roll your eyes, but it’s hard to deny the fluttery feeling in your stomach just from his words. "Please, like I've never done this before."

"And every time you have, you end up bent over, begging for me to take it easier, don't you?" He cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes slither down your body like a snake of temptation.

You bite your lip. "So it’s my fault that you have no self control?”

Gojo nods his head. "Yes, maybe I just wanted to have a nice, relaxing Halloween game night with you... but now you've got me so worked up."

You tap your chin. "You wanted to spend time with me that doesn't involve sex? Seems a little out of character, don't you think?"

Gojo stalks towards you, long feathery strides until he's towering over your frame, eyes threatening to sear your clothes right off of you.

"Oh, you can't get any denser, can you?" he questions. "This sick little arrangement we have, teasing each other and fucking on every surface in the house isn't what I want." He pauses. "I mean, yes, but it's more than that."

You blink up at him. "What else could you possibly want?"

Gojo sighs, and slowly wraps his arms around you in a cinnamon-scented bear hug. "I want to contact you about your car's extended warranty."

"SATORU!" you screech, hitting him on the chest as he bursts into laughter.

"I'm joking, you know that I can't take shit seriously," he runs his fingers through his hair. “For fuck sake, I want a relationship with you, okay? Do I need to spell it out on the lawn?"

"Yes, actually," you tease, sitting your popcorn bucket down and running your buttery hands over his chest. "You want to be with me?"

"Your pussy's too good to let anyone else have you," he hums, leaning forward and kissing your neck.

"You're so annoying," you grit, but you can't help but melt into his touch and kisses.

He chuckles against you but doesn’t respond.

Gojo pulls his head out of your neck and leans towards you, lips parted in expectancy.

Your eyes flutter closed just as your mouths collide, this kiss feeling different than the hundreds that had come before it. You lean into him and grab the drawstring of his pajamas, while his fingers are also subconsciously twisting into your boy shorts.

"Mmh, can't get enough of you," Gojo mumbles against your mouth.

You giggle. "Good thing I'm yours now. There's plenty of time to reach all of me."

He breaks away from you and stares down in astonishment. "Really?"

You nod, tugging him closer by his pants. "So, about that game night..."

"Eh, it can wait, we have some celebrating to do." He grins, and before you know it you're being lifted swiftly into the air, hauled over his shoulder with your ass next to his face, as he pops a crack on the soft skin there. "And don't you ever wear these without warning me again."

Toji.

“Why are you hovering? I said sit.”

Your boyfriend is obsessed with you sitting on his face, suffocating him with your cunt and juices, this is nothing new. But this time, he wants to try something a bit more deranged.

You’d just been trying to show him your new panties and matching socks, honest. You may have also been wearing one of his shirts, and this was absolutely his weakness, and you absolutely knew that.

“My shirt, baby?” he’d cooed, pulling you into a hug and planting soft kisses on your face. “New panties too? You spoil me.”

It wouldn’t be long before he was lifting you up, effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying down on it. Then, before you had the chance to squirm or run, he was gripping your sides and lifting you over his face, where you caught your weight with your knees.

“Toji, they’re still on,” you mumble, his hands gliding up your sides to hike up his shirt. He stares directly between your legs which causes your clit to twitch.

“So?” he questions from below.

Thick hands mash into the crease of your hips, forcing your weight to fall down on his wide nose and full lips.

Your face turns the color of beets, but you ultimately have no time to be embarrassed as Toji locks his arms around your thighs.

His eyes have fluttered closed, and you can feel his shuddering breath through the cloth as he takes in your scent.

Your hands are on the headboard for stability, looking down at him, feeling your panties grow damper as he wiggles his face around, nose brushing your clit.

“Toji approved,” he says suddenly, before you feel his fat, warm tongue slide along the material of the panties, and your body lurches.

“Wh-What…?”

“I can still eat you through your panties,” he huffs, eyes popping open and catching you staring down at him. “This was the plan all along, puss.”

Your thighs shudder on either side of his head. “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack, baby,” he mumbles, before flicking his tongue over the cloth again, nose massaging your clit, hands burying deeper into your skin. It’s all so much, you moan and rotate your hips over him.

“Wh-what made you want to try this?” you ask, biting your lip as he tugs on the material with his teeth, taking in another animalistic sniff.

“You looked so proud to show them off,” Toji grunts. “It’s a shame that they were only going to end up on the floor, huh?”

You have to agree. You’d stopped buying lingerie long ago because it would never last more than a few seconds around Toji, but you figured a new pair of panties couldn’t hurt. You just hadn’t expected this reaction out of him.

Besides, you can’t deny how good it feels to dry hump his face, there only being a thin barrier between your folds and his wet tongue, making it all the more a tease.

From then on, it became a regular tradition for Toji to “approve” your new holiday panties - but of course, the halloween ones remained his favorite.

A/N:

im sorry for pumping out these shitty short ones but im just trying to keep yall fed while we wait for the long ones ^.^

~pennjammin

[moonlightrafe]

My Sister’s Keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond cum with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

[midnightcrw]

I almost lost you

Pairing: Cregan Stark x fem!reader

Summary: You never thought you could be as sad as you are now.

Warnings: mention of losing your child, being stabbed (tell me if there should be more triggering things in this one-shot)

a/n: Even though I have never watched hotd before and only heard what happens in the show, I fell in love with Cregan Stark even though he was there for a few minutes. Also note that I'm not the best at writing, especially when it comes to hotd.

You thought you knew what sadness was when you couldn't get pregnant even after being married to Cregan for over a year, but this feeling was far worse.

You had finally fallen pregnant a few weeks ago, and that was probably one of the happiest times for you, as you had not told your husband and were waiting for the perfect moment, but things changed drastically when someone broke into your bedchambers while you were alone. You didn't even have time to react when a man wearing a cloak stabbed you and left you bleeding on the floor.

Painful wasn't even enough to describe it. It was agonizing the way your body froze in shock and you only registered the way the knife was pulled out of your stomach. You couldn't even remember the last four days because you were only lying in bed, not a single word leaving your lips as you had to process what had happened.

Cregan had not been here since that night. He was looking for the man who did it and he was furious, at least that's what the maid had said.

Slowly sitting up, your back now resting on the pillows as you traced the area of your injury, covered by a bandage and your nightgown over it.

"Lady Stark!" A woman's loud voice made you flinch as your heart threatened to burst out of your chest. Your eyes, now wide open, looked at the woman as you realized it was one of the handmaids.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but you didn't respond," the young woman said apologetically, looking down in shame. "Don't worry, it was my fault for letting my mind wander. Why did you come here?" Your voice sounded scratchy as you spoke for the first time in days.

"Lord Cregan Stark has arrived and wanted to know if you would like him to come in," at the mention of his name you got nervous, not knowing what was going to happen, but you nodded and motioned for her to let him in.

Only her footsteps could be heard as you began to fiddle with your fingers. You wanted to see him, but at the same time you didn't, too afraid of disappointing him.

The movement of your fingers stopped abruptly as you felt the bed sink down and your name was called softly in a whisper.

You were both in love with each other even before you got married, and you were perfectly content to call each other by name rather than by some title. It made you both more comfortable and felt better than calling him 'Lord' or you 'Lady'.

But in that moment, you wished he wouldn't. You wished that he would treat you as heartlessly as you deserved.

"Please look at me," his gruff voice was the only thing you could hear besides the wind from outside and you hadn't dared to look up, it felt like someone was starting to strangle you until you couldn't breathe anymore.

Your eyes were still looking down and you could see his hand hesitating to touch you as he pleaded with you again and this time you listened.

Slowly, you looked at him, your eyes almost lifeless as Cregan's were filled with concern.

When your husband opened his mouth to speak, you interrupted him by whispering, "I was with child.

And that's when Cregan's expression turned to confusion. No one had told him since you had wanted to be the one to break the news, but unfortunately not in the way you had wished for.

"What?" It was the first time you had ever heard his voice so strained. He started to shake his head in shock as his eyes moved rapidly to find even a hint of a lie on your face and when he didn't find it, the silence grew.

You hated it, you hated the way he looked at you in sadness and you hated it even more that he wasn't angry with you.

"I couldn't even give you an heir," your voice finally broke as a tear ran down your face, your lip trembling as you bit down on it to keep yourself from bursting, but the moment Cregan's arms engulfed your frame, you began to sob your heart out as your body shook while your husband tightened his hold on you.

Even though you couldn't see Cregan's face as it was buried in the crook of your neck, you knew he was letting his tears fall as you felt them on your skin, and it wasn't because of the child, it was because he was terrified of losing you.

Every day he had made it clear that the only thing he ever wanted was for you to be alive, happy and healthy. Not once had he complained about the lack of a child in your life, because he was content to have you around.

"That's the least of an issue, yeah?" He said as he kissed your cheek, still holding you in his arms. "We can always try again whenever you want, alright? The only thing that's important is that you let your body heal first," he said as his lips kissed your tear-stained face several times while reassuring you.

"But you need an heir," you sobbed softly as he let go of your body to hold the sides of your face in his hands. The look on his face suddenly became stern as he maintained eye contact, "An heir can wait." He said as he slowly touched his forehead to yours, "I almost lost you," he fretted as his eyes became glassy like you'd never seen them before.

His beautiful eyes that you could never look away from and now all you wanted to do was look away, not to see the fear in them.

"But you didn't," you replied, "Yes, I didn't, and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life," the moment he finished his sentence, your lips met his with an urgency that was almost primal.

The kiss was raw and filled with emotions that neither of you could put into words. It was desperate, a clash of needs that both you and Cregan could feel as your hearts pounded against your chests.

Your hands tightly curled the fabric of his top as one hand cupped your face while the other tangled in your hair. The two of you were almost breathless as he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours for a second before giving your now swollen lips a feather light peck and pulling away completely.

Your eyes traveled the contours of his face as he began to speak breathlessly, "We should sleep, it is late," you merely nodded as he stood to undress.

And not once did you look away as he undressed, the scars around his skin always drawing your attention. Some of them were already so pale that you couldn't see them unless you got close, while the rest were in shades of red.

Catching yourself staring, you quickly shook your head and moved down to rest your head on the pillow, and a moment later, your husband was lying next to you, his chest unclothed.

"Your wound hasn't caused any problems, has it?" He asked as he turned to the side to get a better look at you.

Your hand made its way to touch the spot where your wound was, "It's healing well, from what I've been told."

"Can I see it?" Cregan seemed hesitant as he spoke, but you only nodded, slowly pulling up your nightgown as you lay on your side for him to see.

The moment your wound was visible, Cregan gently touched your skin. "It's already scarred," he murmured as his eyes inspected the red scar on your stomach.

"It looks ugly," you said as you slowly pulled the material down until your husband stopped you, "You never told me that mine looked ugly."

Without hiding the truth, you muttered, "Because yours are beautiful.

Cregan shook his head at your answer, his eyes softening a fraction as he looked at you, "That's not true. Both of our scars look the same, but you can't see beauty in yours just because it's marring your skin and not mine"

Without letting you respond, he continued, "You are beautiful, inside and out. There's no need to call any part of you ugly because you're insulting my wife, the love of my life, and the lady of Winterfell."

Not saying anything, you buried your face in his chest and that was enough for him, to feel your heart beating against his as you held on to him.

[myonexox]

A SLICE OF LOVE

pairing : husband!jay x female!reader

genre : fluff synopsis : you accidentally cut your finger while cooking warnings : blood and minor injury (a cut)

word count : 0.6k

the smell of sizzling garlic and onions filled the air as you stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while jay stirred the pot on the stove. cooking together had become a cherished routine for the two of you, a small but meaningful way to bond after busy days.

“babe, are you sure you don’t want me to handle the chopping?” he glanced over his shoulder. “you’re always so reckless with knives”

you rolled your eyes but smiled. “it's okay, i’ve got this. you're treating me like i'm a child”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to the stove. “if you say so. but don’t come crying to me when you—”

as you sliced through a particularly stubborn carrot, the knife slipped, grazing your finger. you let out a sharp hiss, pulling your hand back instinctively. you stared at the small bead of blood forming on your fingertip.

“yah!” he said as he spun around, abandoning the pot on the stove. his eyes widened when he saw your finger. “what did i tell you? let me see that”

“jay, i'm fine. it’s just a tiny cut” you protested, trying to downplay the situation. “i’ve had worse, you know”

“tiny cut or not, i don't care” he insisted, grabbing a clean kitchen towel. he dabbed at your finger gently before ushering you to sit at the dining table. “stay here. don’t move”

“i’m fine! seriously, it’s not—”

“sit” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. you huffed but complied, watching as he rummaged through the first aid kit with an urgency that made you want to laugh. his brows were furrowed in concentration and his lips were slightly pouted, the look he wore whenever he was completely focused on something.

“you’re acting like i’ve lost a limb” you teased as he returned, kneeling in front of you with antiseptic and a bandage. "come on, it's not that serious"

“this might sting a little” he said softly, ignoring your comment as he dabbed the antiseptic on your finger. he blew on it gently, his warm breath soothing the slight sting. you bit back a laugh at how serious he was.

“jay, seriously” you said, watching him carefully wrap the bandage around your finger. “it’s just a cut. i’m used to it”

his hands paused and he looked up at you, furrowing his eyebrows. “what do you mean you’re used to it?”

you shrugged, feeling a little sheepish under his gaze. “i used to cut my fingers almost all the time when i cooked. so, it’s not a big deal. relax”

his lips parted as if he was about to say something but then he shook his head. “that’s ridiculous. of course it’s a big deal. you’re my wife. how could i not care?”

“you’re overreacting” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

he raised an eyebrow at you. “how am i overreacting? you know what, people say you should treat your wife like a queen, not a maid. isn’t that what i’m doing right now?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

his lips curved into a soft smile and he pressed a kiss to the top of your bandaged finger. “so, my reckless queen, no more chopping for you today. i’ll handle it”

“but i want to help!” you argued, crossing your arms.

“just watch me, okay?” he said with a playful smirk as he stood up and returned to the cutting board. “i’ll have dinner ready in no time. so just sit there and look pretty”

you let out a soft chuckle at his words as you watched him work.

“you know, you really scared me for a second there” he admitted, glancing at you.

“scared you?” you asked, tilting your head. “jay, you're so serious. it was just a little cut”

“still” he said, turning to look at you. “the thought of you being hurt even a little, makes my heart stop. i can’t help it. so please, be careful next time”

you replied with a soft smile. for someone who had spent so long being unnoticed, being loved by jay felt like living in a dream you never wanted to wake up from. you watched him cooking in silence. moments like these, though simple, were the ones you cherished the most.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

[carnationworld-writings]

The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife. 

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. ���That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

[diejager]

God! I love dark price, please write a part of dark price and reader with his son (I want a mini price 😔) I think it would be a boy 😅 but I'll leave it up to you <3 have a good day, best writer on Tumblr <3

Cage Cw: forced pregnancy, forced relationship, MENTION OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARKFIC, tell me if I missed any.

“Mama! Mama!” Two, childlike voices called out to you, their tones light and jovial with a child’s innocence, untainted by the horrors of the world.

Rapid pads followed after their screams, running steps heading your way as you turned to look at the source, putting down the knife you used to cut the ripe and fresh carrot for supper. Two pairs of hands grabbed at your pants, wide, blue eyes staring up at you with joy and wonder in their pretty eyes, they begged for attention.

You loved them. You truly did. From the lingering fat on their three-year old cheeks, their round, doe eyes in a stormy, blue shade, their chubby limbs and fingers holding onto you to the soft locks in the shade of your hair. From the adorable behaviour, pliant and obedient, always eager to listen to you if it meant receiving praises and kisses from you, to the innocence in their being, untouched by the cruelty you’ve seen when you were still working. But everything about them reminded you of him, of their father, of your husband. Your boy and daughter were spitting images of their father, only with your shade of hair.

“What wrong?” You crouched to their height, thumb rubbing the blue ink off the fat of your daughter’s cheek with your clean hand, you’d left the both of them in the living room with a box of coloured pens and paper to draw with.

“Hungry, Mama,” Olivia moaned, clutching her shirt with an adorable pout, reaching for her brother for help to convey her hunger.

You cooed at her, picking the both of them up, bobbing them until they sat comfortably on each side of you, arms wrapped around your shoulder as they cried and moaned about being hungry, about their tumtums making sound. You put them on separate chairs, handing them a small cracker to eat while your finished making your soup. Olivia and Arthur - you precious twins - liked the bland crackers, wanting something to bite into while their teeth grew, to stop the itch and discomfort of growing teeth.

“Mama’s almost finished, it’ll be done once Dada’s home, okay?” Your kids were smart, they understood words that most wouldn’t at this age. You chalked it up to them having your husband’s genes, his smart and quick decisions made it nearly impossible to beat him in a battle of wits, you learned that the hard way.

As if summoned by your voice, you heard the lock click, announcing your husband’s return from work. Hearing their father open the door, Arthur and Olivia jumped off their seats and rushed to the door, smiling and giggling, overjoyed to see their father home after leaving early in the morning. He bent down to kiss them, bringing them into his chest and blowing kisses, a few dozen on their forehead, another dozen on each cheek and a few on their pink nose, small and adorable.

“Go on, give Ma and Pa a moment, yeah?” He smiled softly, petting them on the head before coaxing them away, wanting a moment to hold you on his own.

He pulled you towards him, hands grasping onto your hips, strong and unyielding in his hold. He pressed his lips to your cheek, slowly trailing down to your lips with a searing and possessive kiss, demanding your attention and whole being. He nipped at your lip, teeth biting on your lower lip until you let out a small whimper, audible to him and you alone, protecting your children from Price’s darker side.

“John,” you mumbled, panting when he pulled away, your lips swollen from his rough kiss.

When you tried to move back, you were stopped by his grip on your nap, unaware that his hand snaked up to hold you still, keeping your face near his. His stormy eyes brewed with a cyclone, a violent and powerful torrent of emotions that had you shudder in fear and apprehension. He was strung high, pulled tight on the edges, his nerves burned to its core without any relief for him to come back down. You knew you would have to help him relax, to surrender your body to his whims.

“Let’s… let’s just eat dinner and get the kids to bed first, all right?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

[starryhyuck]

craving you. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: husband!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 5.1k+

summary: are pregnancy cravings supposed to make you crazy for your husband’s dick?

genre: smut

warnings: jaehyun and reader are children of politicians, mentions of conservative views, pregnancy, public sex, bigdick!jaehyun, fingering, pussy eating, creampies

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Once you’re on the road, he intertwines his hand with yours over the console. He raises the back of your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Missed you today,” he murmurs, squeezing your palm. “Dad’s been wanting to see you too. Said you should come by the office and hang out. He’d love your input on the new traffic law they’re trying to pass.”

You hum noncommittally, staring out the window with a longing expression. He swallows at your choice to remain non-verbal, worry filling the bottom of his gut.

“Pasta night tonight, hm? I already called ahead and they set aside our favorite table,” he continues, trying to draw a reaction out of you. You chew on your lower lip, but your eyes focus on the passing streetlights. The question leaves his lips before he can stop it. “Have I done something wrong, my love?”

Your head darts over to him for the first time, gaze filled with confusion. “Of course you haven’t.”

“You’ve just been so distant from me,” he sighs. “I’m wondering if you’re upset over something I did.”

“No, no, of course not,” you shake your head, squirming in your seat. “It’s just that- T-The baby- I’m just having a lot of emotions right now.”

“You can talk to me about them, you know? I’d love to understand how you’re feeling.”

A few moments pass in silence, and he peeks over to see you battling internally before you say, “It’s not really appropriate, Jae.”

His brow furrows. “Appropriate? I’m your husband, my love. You can tell me anything.”

The rest of the ride is speechless and when Jaehyun pulls up to the valet of the restaurant, he tells the worker to give you both a moment.

“I don’t want to go in there until you feel comfortable enough sitting across from me and looking me in the eye,” he says sternly, not allowing you to run away from confrontation this time. “If you’re mad at me, tell me now and we can put a pin in it to discuss later.”

“I-I’m not mad!” You exclaim, flustered by the various people standing outside and waiting for you. “Please, Jae. Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”

“I can’t enjoy it if I know my wife is upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you hiss, groaning and running your hands down your face. “It’s not appropriate for me to say! Especially here!”

“What is it? Morning sickness? Swelling? Using the bathroom too often?”

“I want to have sex with you! Does that make you happy? I think about jumping your bones every five seconds and it’s driving me insane. I can’t even look you in the eye because all I’ll think about is riding you until I’m out of breath,” you confess, folding your arms across your chest and pouting like a child. “Now you know your wife is a degenerate who can’t think straight.”

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Jaehyun doesn’t utter a single word, opening up the car door and signaling for the valet to take the keys. One of the workers helps you step out as Jaehyun walks over, outstretching his arm to you without sparing you a single glance.

You walk into the restaurant with your hand wrapped around his forearm tightly. When the hostess greets you, Jaehyun says, “We’ll take the private room in the back if it’s available. I’ll pay extra if needed.”

The hostess blinks in surprise. “Oh, I apologize, Mr. Jeong. I thought you called in and requested the table by the window.”

He flashes her his signature smile. “I did, but my wife is feeling under the weather and we’d prefer if we had more privacy. I’m sure the restaurant can make a few accommodations.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeong.”

She leads you to the back, opening a sliding door that reveals a dimly lit room for two. Jaehyun nods and takes the menu from her hands. “I’ll call for service when we’re ready,” he instructs. “I ask that those doors remain closed until I say otherwise.”

“No problem, Mr. Jeong. I’ll inform the rest of the staff.”

When she exits, Jaehyun finds his way to his seat. He watches your confused expression, knowing he usually pulls out your seat for you like a proper gentleman. Just as you’re about to take your own spot at the table, he stops you with a gruff “What do you think you’re doing?”

You glance between him and the chair, and on any other occasion, he would coo at how cute you are.

“Um, sitting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your seat’s over here, my love,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. “Have you forgotten how to use your eyes?”

You blink twice. “Uh-”

“Come on. I can’t wait all day.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[bellesdreamyprofile]

a baby miracle: part 1

You’ve always wanted to be a mother - the thought of having a little child running around and their giggles filling the house, brought you joy and satisfaction. Whenever you went shopping with Benny (which was quite rare, since he hated shopping), you always found your way in the baby section, looking at itty bitty clothes. It was like a calling - you were sure because of your nurturing nature you were meant to be a mother.

Today’s doctor appointment confirmed what your hopes had been for the entirety of your adult years - you were pregnant. You smiled at the sweet woman and thanked her as a picture of your little baby was printed out. Endless scenarios played in your head at the idea of your happy little baby dressed in frilly little clothes. A mini version of you and Benny.

Benny.

You shakily slid the envelope with your results in your bag. Realization hit you - there had to be a bump on the road — ironically. You never discussed having children with Benny, mostly because of his lifestyle, but also because it was a topic that simply never came up.

The bag kept sliding down your shoulder as you made your way home. A glance at your watch made you realize that Benny wasn’t home yet, giving you some time to think about the way you were going to break down the situation to him.

You made his favorite steak and potatoes with a side salad and set the table. Once satisfied with the results, you looked down at your outfit and scoffed at the stain on your favorite sweater. So you made your way upstairs and took it off, though as you moved towards your wardrobe, you caught your own reflection in the adjacent mirror.

Your gaze moved on your bare stomach - you were absolutely aware that there was nothing yet, but your hand still found its way there. You gently rubbed it and closed your eyes at the feeling of burning tears building up. Prayers invaded your head, prayers of hope that Benny was going to be happy at the news - like every husband would be. 

That was when you idealized again - trying to shape Benny into the man he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to him since he never tried to change you or your habits for his own.

The door opened, making your eyes snap open at the noise. You breathed out and hastily grabbed the first sweater you found and put it on, trotting downstairs.

His blue eyes looked up and a smile made its way on his face. “Hey baby.”, as soon as you reached him, he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss to your temples. That was a sign that he had had a rough day at the club.

“Hey honey.”, you murmured against his chest. “Rough day?”, Benny hummed in response and you found yourself sighing, forcing your eyes shut.

“I made your favorite.”, you said and put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. He lazily smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“The steak, potatoes and the vegetables you force me to eat?”, you nodded as a small laugh escaped your lips.

“It’s a small salad that won’t kill you, honey. As your wife it’s my job to make sure that you get your daily veggies in.”, you teased, but he simply shook his head with a small smile on his lips.

“Okay.”, he shrugged. “You know what’s best anyways.”, Benny led you to the table and sat down on the seat across from yours. He wasn’t very talkative during meals, but he always had the most interesting stories before bed. Head on his chest, fingers twirling your hair and his pretty eyes fixated on the ceiling. It was now a routine.

His knife cut through the steak and his fork brought it to his lips, eyes fighting the urge to close at the taste. “Now that’s a steak.”, he complimented, glancing your way.

You gave him a small smile and sighed, questioning your ability to keep such a secret to yourself. During dinner at least.

“I don’t even mind the salad, baby—“

“I’m pregnant.”

You cut him off, your tone higher than usual. So much for holding back until after dinner. Benny’s movements stopped, his eyes set on the centre of the table, unable to meet yours.

You were already crying, salty tears rolling down your cheeks as your little secret was finally out in the world. You expected relief — anything. There was absolutely nothing worse than Benny’s silence. Even on regular days you had a hard time figuring out if he was happy, sad or disappointed.

You brushed a tear away and almost burned his skin with the way you were staring at him. “Please say something, Benny. Anything.”

His eyes snapped your way, the redness taking you by surprise. “What do you want me to say?”, he said lowly and set his knife and fork aside.

And then he said the worst thing he possibly could’ve.

“I have to go.”

At the sight of him standing up, you panicked, feeling your heart drop to the floor and shatter in millions of pieces. “N-No, Benny, please.”

Benny was quick to grab his denim jacket and put it on without giving you a second glance. Your footsteps were quicker as you grabbed his bicep.

“Please look at me, honey. Please.”, your words of plea didn’t make him budge. Your finger gently curled under his chin, turning it your way. His jaw clenched at the sight of your endless tears. Oh, but how your heart broke at the sight of his blue eyes. His nose scrunched, moving away from you again.

“I have to go.”, he said firmly, but you wouldn’t — couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t be alone in a moment like this. You had no idea on how you’d react the moment your husband stepped foot outside your home.

“No, you don’t.”, your voice was a mere whisper. “I can’t leave this situation either, Benny.”, you sniffled and brought one of your hands to wipe away some tears. “You told me. We’re a team. One doesn’t leave the other.”

At the way his own words were used on him, Benny’s blue eyes slowly met yours. A mix of red, blue and salty tears stood in front of you. Your hand slowly lifted up, caressing his cheek gently.

“I’m scared.”, the little break in his voice made you cradle his face as he leaned into your touch. “I-I won’t be a good father—“

You shook your head and pecked his lips repeatedly. A sigh fell from your lips as you leaned your forehead on his. “You’ll be perfect—“

Benny sniffled, shaking his head. “I-I won’t. I’ll fuck up and the kid’s gonna resent me for the rest of their life.”, you moved back, gazing into the eyes that always held confidence and love. Now stood a broken man in front of you.

You cleared your throat and, with a gush of courage, took one of his hands in yours. You brought it your abdomen and pressed it with both of yours. His eyes met yours again and the tears he desperately tried to keep at bay, started falling down.

“This baby—“, you sniffled. “This baby will love you no matter what. And I know that because— because I love you no matter what, Benny.”, he kept shaking his head a little as his eyes threw glances at your joined hands. “We love you because you’re you. We don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

His eyes closed as small whimpers left his lips. Heartbreak couldn’t compare to whatever you were feeling in the moment. You brought his head to your shoulder as you caressed his hair in comfort. His arms circled your body, fingertips pressed to your skin to feel your warmth — clinging to you like a baby to his mother.

As much as you convinced yourself that Benny was going to stay with you, your heart broke at his state. He never revealed too much of his past, always telling you you’re my present and future so that ain’t relevant, but it was clear that fatherhood was a touchy subject.

One step at a time, you reminded yourself. 

One step at a time.

A/N: this healed me and broke me in twenty different ways

MASTERLIST PART 2

[thedensworld]

Sound Of Vengeance | C. Sc

Genre: action, angst, arranged marriage au!

Summary: after happily living an arranged marriage, he found out that his charismatic, flawless, and admirable wife has a secret hiding from him.

Warning: mention of violence, car accident, blood, knife stabbing, gunshot, stuff.

Seungcheol watched you from his position, his ears tuned to the men’s conversation, but his eyes were fixated on you, following your every move. He noted how your gaze lingered on the speaker’s lips, how your expression shifted subtly with every word. That smile—poised, eloquent, and effortlessly charming—spread across your face, leaving no one in the room unaffected. A sharp pang of jealousy coursed through him. His grip tightened around the glass in his hand, the cool surface grounding him against the rising heat in his chest. It was supposed to be his. His lips. His gaze. The attention you dared to lavish so intensely on anyone but him.

"How do you think, Seungcheol?"

His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Seungcheol turned slightly, meeting the older man’s expectant eyes. The glass of wine in his father’s hand swirled lazily, a stark contrast to the tension in Seungcheol's.

"Don't pressure him, Mr. Choi," another man interjected with a chuckle. "The younger generation these days—they’re different. They won’t rush into having children immediately."

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he registered the conversation. Children. Family. An image of you flashed through his mind, your soft laughter echoing in a distant memory. His shoulders squared as he finally replied, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

"We’re working on it," he said smoothly, casting a brief glance your way. "My wife and I want to have a child as soon as possible, but with business being so hectic, it’s been a challenge."

The men nodded in understanding, their attention shifting back to him. Seungcheol seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away.

"Speaking of challenges," he continued, his tone shifting effortlessly, "how’s the harbor, Mr. Kim? Has your son resolved the issues with the government yet?"

Mr. Kim let out a disgruntled sigh. "It’s been nothing but delays," he grumbled, shaking his head.

Seungcheol leaned in slightly, his presence commanding yet unassuming. "Delays can be costly," he remarked. "If you need additional support, let me know. I’ve had some success navigating similar situations."

As the conversation deepened into business matters, Seungcheol's gaze flickered back to you. You were laughing now, your head tilting slightly as you responded to someone. His chest tightened again, the earlier jealousy morphing into something deeper—something unspoken, buried under the weight of his responsibilities.

But for now, he played his role, the perfect husband in a room full of expectations.

Seungcheol excused himself from the group, his movements purposeful as he made a beeline toward where you were standing. You turned toward him, sensing his presence before he even spoke, and the corner of his lips twitched in satisfaction. Without hesitation, his hand found its place on your waist, a silent claim that did not go unnoticed.

“Choi Seungcheol, Ji Y/n’s husband,” he introduced himself to the man in front of you, his voice firm and polished.

The man extended a polite smile. “I’m Hong Jisoo. I attended your wedding a few months ago. Nice to meet you.”

Seungcheol nodded curtly, his sharp gaze scanning the man before replying, “From Hong Property, I presume?”

Jisoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That’s my father and brother. I work in a hospital,” he clarified, pulling out a business card and offering it.

Seungcheol accepted the card, his eyes briefly scanning the text. Dr. Hong Jisoo, Psychiatry Department. His lips curved slightly, though his grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly. When he glanced up, his gaze landed on you, noticing how your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Just like every day. Just like how it was supposed to be.

“I wasn’t aware my wife was acquainted with a psychiatrist,” he remarked, his tone casual yet laced with an underlying edge.

“Old friend,” you replied smoothly, your tone light as you cast a brief glance at Jisoo.

That glance didn’t sit well with Seungcheol.

His thumb gently brushed against your side, a subtle reminder of his presence, as he straightened slightly. “I’m sorry, but we have to leave,” he said, his voice firm yet polite. His attention shifted to you, softening just enough to mask the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface. “Love, should we go home?”

You nodded, offering Jisoo a polite smile. “It was nice catching up, Jisoo. Take care.”

“Likewise. Have a good evening,” Jisoo replied, his tone warm yet reserved.

Seungcheol didn’t wait for further pleasantries. With his hand firmly on your waist, he guided you toward the exit, his strides confident and unwavering. The air between you carried a tension he couldn’t quite articulate, but the quiet sense of satisfaction in reclaiming your focus was enough for now.

Seungcheol used to be just a man obsessed with his work, a relentless workaholic. His life revolved around business—expanding, negotiating, multiplying his family’s wealth tenfold. Relationships? They were an afterthought, a distraction. Blind dates came and went, each one predictable and forgettable.

That was, until his parents introduced him to you.

He approached the blind date with little expectation, assuming it would end like all the others: polite small talk, forced smiles, and no sparks. But with you, everything was different.

The moment your eyes fixated on him, he felt it—a current of electricity that surged through his entire being. The way your gaze roamed over him, studying him with quiet intensity, left him unnerved in the best way. You started with his eyes, then trailed downward, your focus lingering on his lips just a second too long. That moment branded itself into his memory, leaving him restless and preoccupied for a week.

He couldn't get you out of his mind. And that was how he agreed to an arranged marriage, a decision that surprised even himself.

Now, months later, he lay beside you in the dim morning light, the quiet intimacy of your shared space filling the air. As he felt you stir awake in his arms, he opened his eyes, his thoughts drifting to the night before. He had been a little rough, a little too consumed by the jealousy that burned in his chest when he caught you looking at someone else’s lips.

“Did I go too rough with you last night?” he murmured, his voice husky and low, thick with concern as he tightened his embrace around you.

You squirmed slightly, shifting to face him, your sleepy eyes meeting his. He searched your expression, his brow furrowing as silence stretched between you.

“Was I too rough? Are you okay, love?” he asked again, his worry evident now.

You shook your head slowly, your lips curving into a soft smile. Reaching up, your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you pulled him closer. Without a word, your lips met his in a tender, reassuring kiss, melting away the tension in his chest.

When you pulled back, your voice was gentle, teasing. “Was something wrong last night? You seemed… different.”

Seungcheol hesitated, the tips of his ears flushing red as he avoided your gaze for a moment. How could he admit that the fire in him last night was born of jealousy? That the mere thought of your attention lingering on someone else’s lips had driven him to near madness?

Instead, he exhaled softly and shook his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “No,” he lied, his hand sliding up your back to rest between your shoulder blades. “I just can’t help myself around you.”

You laughed lightly, the sound warm and soothing. “Good,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his like a promise. Because, as much as Seungcheol tried to play it cool, you already knew—you had him completely undone.

"We’re going to be late if we don’t start getting ready now," you told Seungcheol, glancing at the clock with mild urgency.

He chuckled, his deep voice laced with mischief as he leaned closer. “Five more minutes,” he murmured, his hand brushing yours before pulling you along with him toward the bathroom. A teasing grin spread across his face. “Together, of course.”

Later, as the two of you settled at the dining table, Seungcheol joined you with a fresh, clean look and a calm demeanor that betrayed none of his usual morning rush. “I’ll drive you,” he said casually, sipping his coffee.

You blinked, looking up from your plate in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll drive you,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “And I’ll pick you up today.”

His firm tone left little room for debate, but the soft warmth in his expression made your heart flutter. You quickly nodded, taking the last bite of your sandwich with a smile tugging at your lips.

At the office, Seungcheol was all business. The moment he stepped through the door, his trusted right-hand man, Lee Jihoon, was already waiting with updates and a detailed briefing.

“Today’s schedule is packed,” Jihoon began, keeping pace with Seungcheol as he strode toward his desk. “The shipping updates are as follows: the cargo from Incheon has cleared customs, and the team is preparing the distribution reports. The Hong Kong shipment—”

“What’s the status on that?” Seungcheol interrupted, his sharp eyes flicking toward Jihoon.

“It’ll arrive tonight,” Jihoon replied promptly. “Do you want to oversee it yourself?”

Seungcheol shook his head as he sat down, loosening his tie slightly. “No need. I trust you to handle it. Just make sure everything is documented thoroughly.”

Jihoon nodded, jotting down a quick note. “Understood, sir.”

As Jihoon left to attend to the shipment, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at his watch. His thoughts wandered to you, wondering how your day was going and reminding himself to clear his evening to pick you up as promised. Balancing business and you wasn’t always easy, but for him, it was a priority he wouldn’t compromise.

*

There were a few strict rules in your office, and everyone at Ji Art Gallery knew to follow them without question.

Rule one: never speak to you with your back turned. Communication had to happen face-to-face, ensuring nothing was misunderstood.

Rule two: click the light switch whenever someone entered your office. You always had a mountain of tasks, and multitasking was not your forte. The light switch was an unspoken signal to gain your attention without disrupting your workflow.

Rule three: lunch hours were sacred. During this time, you watched the news alone. No one was allowed to enter, except for your family. It was an unbendable rule, one you wished could explain itself.

To everyone else, you were a perfectionist boss, firm but fair. What they didn’t know was that behind the rules lay a quieter truth—you are deaf, relying on observation and lip-reading to navigate the world.

It wasn’t perfectionism that demanded your routines. It was survival.

As you worked, engrossed in reviewing a painting’s exhibition proposal, the door to your office suddenly opened, and your mother stepped in unannounced. She clicked the blinds shut with a sharp movement before tossing a branded paper bag onto your desk.

"Here," she said brusquely. "Wear this for your next intercourse with Seungcheol."

You glanced at the bag, your expression calm despite the storm brewing inside. The name of an expensive lingerie brand was emblazoned across it in bold letters.

"I’ll send some herbal remedies to your house later,” she continued, her tone cold and matter-of-fact. “Make sure you get yourself pregnant within the next two months."

She flopped onto the couch in your office, crossing her legs elegantly as if she hadn’t just barged in to dictate your life. Her sharp eyes focused on you, scrutinizing every detail of your reaction—or lack thereof.

"Why don’t you say something? You’re deaf, not mute," she snapped, her words slicing through the air.

You sighed softly, your eyes fixed on her lips as you watched each word fall out of her mouth with precision and purpose.

"Yes, Mother," you replied, your voice measured, betraying none of the turmoil inside.

A smile curved on her lips—a smile that never reached her eyes. "Be a good girl for me and your stepfather, Y/n. You have a lot to repay. No one wants to raise a deaf child," she said cruelly, standing up with the air of someone who believed they were owed the world.

Her words were poison, but you stood stoically, refusing to let her see the cracks she left behind.

"But," she added, adjusting the hem of her designer jacket, "once you have the Choi family heir growing inside you, we’ll all be fine. So, make sure you do your job."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels, the sound of her expensive shoes clicking against the floor echoing in your office. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.

You sat still, staring at the paper bag she had so carelessly thrown onto your desk. The weight of her expectations pressed against your chest, but you forced yourself to exhale, straightening your shoulders.

Every day, you practiced watching the news, focusing intently on the movement of lips to perfect your ability to read them. It was a quiet, relentless routine, your way of ensuring no one would ever discover your deafness. You wanted people to communicate with you comfortably, unaware of your secret.

It was a weakness you’d been forced to accept 15 years ago. The result of a tragic car accident that not only robbed you of your hearing but also took the life of your stepsister.

You still remembered waking up in the hospital, disoriented and frightened. The first thing you saw was your mother, her face twisted with rage as she screamed at you. Her mouth moved furiously, but you couldn’t hear a single word. You could only guess at her accusations, but you were certain of one thing—she wished it had been you who died instead of your stepsister.

That was the turning point.

From that moment on, you became the scapegoat of the Ji family, the one burdened with their collective frustrations and failures. Surviving that accident, instead of being a blessing, turned into a curse. They treated your survival as an inconvenience, a debt you were expected to repay with unwavering obedience.

“You survived, his daughter didn’t,” your mother’s lips had said once, her voice forever silent to you but still haunting in its clarity. “So make yourself useful.”

From then on, you learned to carry their expectations silently, shouldering the weight of their contempt while striving for perfection. You worked tirelessly, honing your skills, building your reputation, and hiding your deafness as if it were a crime.

Being the "goat" of the Ji family meant you were their sacrifice, their scapegoat, but it also fueled your determination. If survival was your punishment, you would ensure it wasn’t in vain. You would rise above their cruelty, even if it meant enduring the pain of their indifference and the burden of their demands.

You weren’t just surviving anymore—you were fighting. And every day you practiced, every lip you read, every rule you enforced in your life was proof of that.

Every moment of intimacy with Seungcheol was blissful, a haven where the world outside ceased to exist. Even though you couldn’t hear the sounds he made—the soft gasps, the whispered words you imagined he might say—you felt every touch, every movement, as if they spoke directly to your soul. But you always wondered if he felt the same way. Did he share the same satisfaction, the same warmth, the same euphoria at the peak of it all?

You wished you could hear him. Just him.

Seungcheol always looked at you with such tenderness, his gaze soft and unwavering. It made your heart ache with guilt. The guilt of knowing that you and your family had trapped him in this marriage. The guilt of hiding your secret from him—your deafness, the one part of you you couldn’t bring yourself to reveal. And the guilt of knowing your family was draining his wealth under the guise of a business arrangement.

Every time he smiled at you, every time he touched you like you were his world, the weight of your lies grew heavier.

How could you allow yourself to be happy in a marriage built on deception?

The warmth you felt with Seungcheol was tainted by the cold reality of your circumstances. He deserved honesty, love without strings, a partner who could give him everything. And yet here you were, bound to him by a contract you had never wanted but couldn’t escape.

Every night you lay beside him, listening to the silence that enveloped you, longing for a world where your love could be as pure as the way he looked at you.

*

Seungcheol was always amazed by how poised and graceful you carried yourself in public. As a Ji, it was expected, but being married to you had brought a constant stream of surprises he never anticipated.

One of those surprises came during a business meeting involving Wen Junhui, the son of a long-time Chinese producer Seungcheol had worked with for years. Since the business had been handed down to Junhui, negotiations hadn’t been as smooth as before. Seungcheol hoped that meeting in person during Junhui’s visit, accompanied by his wife, would be the perfect opportunity to revive their partnership.

But what Seungcheol didn’t expect was what happened next.

Junhui’s wife, Daisy, had been deaf since birth. It was something Seungcheol had learned in passing but hadn’t given much thought to—until now. As he turned to look for you, he saw you standing with Daisy, engaging her effortlessly in sign language.

His breath hitched. You moved your hands with such confidence and fluidity, your expression lighting up as Daisy responded with equal enthusiasm. Neither Junhui nor Seungcheol could hide their surprise.

“Your wife is incredible. I didn’t expect this,” Junhui said, clinking his glass lightly against Seungcheol’s. “Daisy rarely gets to meet someone who can sign fluently. Thank you for bringing her; she’s finally relaxed for the first time in a long while.”

Seungcheol offered a polite smile, but inwardly, he was stunned. “Thank you,” he said simply, his eyes drifting back to you.

Junhui glanced at his wife before turning back to Seungcheol. “I heard you wanted to negotiate the pricing of our products.”

Seungcheol’s attention snapped back to the conversation. He nodded eagerly. “Yes. We haven’t found a supplier with the same quality as yours. I’d like to propose that we continue the terms we had before. Would you have time tomorrow? I’ll bring the paperwork.”

Junhui thought for a moment before nodding. “Sure. But how about bringing your wife as well? Daisy seems comfortable around her, and it would be nice for her to have someone to talk to while we discuss business.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol agreed, still taken aback by what he’d just witnessed. “I’ll speak to her about it.”

As Junhui moved to speak with someone else, Seungcheol found his gaze lingering on you. He had never known you knew sign language, let alone that you were so fluent. Seeing you connect with Daisy in a way so few others could made him feel something deeper—a mixture of awe, pride, and a touch of guilt for underestimating just how remarkable you truly were.

As Seungcheol mingled with a group of businessmen, his mind was suddenly pulled elsewhere when he realized he couldn’t spot you anywhere. A twinge of unease crept in, but he brushed it off—until his phone vibrated in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he was surprised to see your caller ID.

You never called.

In fact, you hated calling, even in emergencies. It was a well-known rule that anyone needing to contact you had to text or call your secretary, Seo Myungho. For you to call directly was entirely out of character.

Seungcheol excused himself from the lively conversation, weaving through the crowd toward a quieter area. Pressing the answer button, he brought the phone to his ear.

“What’s wrong, love? Where are you?” His voice softened, filled with concern.

The voice that responded wasn’t yours. It was sharp and unfamiliar, carrying a sinister undertone that sent a chill down his spine.

“‘Love?’ Very funny, Choi Seungcheol. Didn’t your father ever teach you not to care too much? Makes you weak, vulnerable.”

Seungcheol froze, his jaw tightening. The words hit like a taunt, a deliberate jab meant to rattle him.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice dropping to a cold, controlled tone.

“Relax. I’m just a fan of your wife. She looks stunning in black tonight. I’d love to—”

“Where is she? Why do you have her phone?” Seungcheol snapped, his composure slipping as his eyes darted across the ballroom.

A low laugh came through the receiver. “You know, secrets can be dangerous, Seungcheol. Especially the ones your lovely wife is keeping from you.”

“Stop playing games! Tell me where she is!” His voice was edged with desperation now.

The call ended abruptly, leaving Seungcheol gripping the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. His heart pounded as he scanned the room again, his mind racing.

“Ji Y/n!” he called out, his voice booming across the corridor.

There was no sign of you. The air felt heavier with each passing second, the tension clawing at his chest. He dialed your number again, but the call went straight to voicemail.

Just as he rounded a corner, his hurried steps brought him face-to-face with someone. Relief flooded through him when he realized it was you.

“Cheol?” you asked, startled by his sudden embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his breath uneven as though he’d been holding it in.

“Thank God,” he whispered, burying his face into your shoulder for a moment.

“What’s going on?” you asked, confused by his reaction.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you as if to ensure you were unharmed. “Where were you? Where’s your phone?”

You blinked, frowning at his intensity. “I don’t know. I can’t find it,” you admitted, rummaging through your clutch only to find it empty.

Seungcheol’s expression darkened. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and called Jihoon. “Get the car ready. We’re leaving now.”

The ride home was tense and silent, the weight of his unspoken thoughts filling the space between you. You glanced at him repeatedly, but his stern expression gave nothing away. His grip on your hand was firm, almost as if he feared letting go.

Once home, Seungcheol ensured you were safely tucked into bed. “Get some rest. I’ll handle this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead.

After he left, you stared at the closed door, unease creeping into your chest. Something was wrong, but you knew better than to press him when he was in this mood.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol retreated to his office, his hands trembling slightly as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. The liquid swirled in the glass, much like the chaos in his mind.

He dialed Jihoon again. “Trace her phone immediately. Whoever has it was at the event. Secure the guest list and cross-check everyone.”

Jihoon hesitated. “That’s going to take time, sir. We’ll need to involve third parties.”

“I don’t care how long it takes. I want answers,” Seungcheol growled, his voice low but seething with authority.

After ending the call, he sank into his chair, his mind running over every possible angle. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he stared at the glowing city skyline through his office window.

“Who are you?” he muttered under his breath. The question gnawed at him, the weight of it pressing heavily on his chest.

And more importantly, why would anyone dare to use the person he loved most to threaten him?

*

Seungcheol jolted awake, his breath hitching when his hand reached out to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. A sense of dread gripped him as the events of last night resurfaced in his mind. The mysterious phone call and its ominous implications lingered like a heavy shadow, refusing to let him rest. He’d only managed to get some sleep because you had come into his office and practically dragged him to bed. But even now, his thoughts raced—who was the caller? What secret could they possibly be referring to?

His heart pounded as he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of you. Then, a faint sound from the bathroom caught his attention. He was out of bed in an instant, his strides purposeful as he approached the door.

“Y/n?” he called, his voice laced with concern as he pushed the door open.

There you were, crouched in front of the toilet bowl, your body wracked with discomfort as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sight made his chest tighten.

“You okay, baby?” Seungcheol took a step closer, but you weakly waved a hand, signaling for him to stay back.

“Don’t… I’m fine,” you muttered between breaths, your voice strained.

Ignoring your protests, Seungcheol was by your side in seconds. He knelt beside you, his large hand gently soothing the back of your neck while his other gathered your hair to keep it out of the way.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his concern palpable.

When you were finally done, he helped you to your feet, steadying you as you rinsed your mouth at the sink. His hand remained firm on your waist, his protective instincts in full swing.

“Talk to me,” he said gently, guiding you back to the bed. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call the doctor?” His brows knitted in worry as he tucked you in, his hand brushing stray hairs from your damp forehead.

You shook your head weakly. “I think it’s just food poisoning from last night’s dinner,” you murmured, offering him a faint smile in an attempt to ease his concern.

Seungcheol let out a small chuckle, though the tension in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “Food poisoning or not, I’m calling Dr. Kim just to be safe. No arguments.”

You sighed but didn’t resist, too exhausted to protest further.

“And no work for you today,” he added firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached for his phone. “I’ll let them know you’re not feeling well. Just focus on resting, alright?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his soothing presence eased some of the discomfort. As he dialed the doctor, his gaze lingered on you, the lines of worry deepening on his face.

Jihoon’s phone buzzed just as Seungcheol finished his meeting with a client. He glanced at the screen before answering the call from Dr. Kim, a slight frown crossing his face as he listened. Seungcheol, sitting across from him in the car, noticed the shift in Jihoon’s expression.

"Yes... she is? I see." Jihoon’s voice was calm, but Seungcheol's instincts told him something was off.

After a beat, Jihoon ended the call and turned to Seungcheol, his face betraying nothing but the weight of the news he was about to deliver.

"Your wife is pregnant, sir."

Seungcheol’s heart seemed to stop, his entire body going still as the words hit him like a cold wave. But it wasn’t just the pregnancy that unsettled him. The next words were the ones that sent a flicker of anger through his veins.

"But your wife is in the office now," Jihoon continued, his voice measured. "She has an important meeting with the curator that she couldn’t leave."

Seungcheol’s pulse quickened, the fury within him rising. The news of your pregnancy only added to the questions swirling in his mind, but the fact that you were in the office—at this very moment—was what pushed him over the edge.

"Drive me to her gallery," Seungcheol ordered, his voice dangerously cold.

Jihoon nodded, without a word, and signaled to the driver to make a sharp turn. Seungcheol’s thoughts raced as the car sped toward the gallery. His heart pounded with a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing worry.

Seungcheol arrived at your office just in time to see your psychiatrist friend, Dr. Hong, leaving. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the man walk out, the realization settling uneasily in his chest. He turned to Myungho, your assistant, who had stepped forward to greet him.

"I heard she had a meeting with the curator. Is the curator... apparently also a psychiatrist?" Seungcheol asked, his words barely more than a murmur as his thoughts raced.

Myungho looked momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening before he answered, "Are you referring to Mr. Hong, sir?"

Seungcheol shook his head, frustration mounting as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The events from last night, the shocking news of your pregnancy, and the fact that you had still gone to work this morning despite his request—everything was colliding in his mind, leaving him on edge.

"Is she free? Can I see her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Myungho nodded without hesitation, immediately leading him to your office. He announced Seungcheol’s arrival before stepping out, leaving the two of you alone.

You looked up from your desk as Seungcheol entered, your gaze softening at the sight of him. "Seungcheol, you're here," you said gently as you stood up.

He approached you slowly, his fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was softer than usual, a tenderness beneath the usual calm. "I told you not to work," he murmured, his gaze searching yours.

You met his eyes, guilt flickering across your face. You bit your lip slightly, feeling a pang of regret. "I'm sorry. But I had a meeting with a foreign curator earlier. I'm glad it went well," you said, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

Seungcheol’s expression softened as he leaned in and kissed your temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. "I heard about it," he said quietly, his smile widening. "We're going to be parents." The excitement in his voice was undeniable as he took your hands in his. He looked at you with a warmth that melted some of the tension in the air.

You smiled weakly, leaning into his embrace as your head rested against his chest. His comforting presence grounded you, even as the weight of the moment settled over you both.

"You’re going to be an amazing mother, love," Seungcheol whispered, his hands gently cradling you as you closed your eyes, basking in the sincerity of his words. The world outside the two of you seemed to disappear as the reality of your future together began to take root.

*

You stepped into your childhood home, the weight of the news you had to share pressing heavily on your chest. Your mother’s wide grin greeted you before you even crossed the threshold, her hands moving wildly as she signed with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, look who’s finally here," she signed, her expression one of mock excitement. "What’s the good news, Y/n?"

You hesitated for a moment before signing, "I’m pregnant."

Her hands froze mid-air, her face flickering with surprise, but it didn’t take long for that emotion to morph into something much darker. She straightened up, her sharp gaze locking onto you. "Pregnant?" she signed, her movements quick and sharp. "Of course, you are. The Choi heir..."

You fought to steady your breath, trying to brace yourself for the storm you knew was coming. But your mother’s expression softened into something far too calculating. "This will fix everything, Y/n. You’ve done your part, finally. You’ve done something right," she signed, her eyes now gleaming with something almost predatory, like she was already envisioning what this could do for her.

The sting of her words was familiar, yet still sharp. You looked away briefly, trying to gather your thoughts before signing back, "This isn’t what I wanted."

Her laughter was sharp and cruel. "Oh, please," she signed, her tone dismissive, as if your words had no weight at all. "What else could you possibly want, Y/n? You’ve got the Choi family wrapped around your finger. You’re carrying the heir. " Her hands moved with exaggerated flourishes, her gestures mocking the sincerity of your feelings. "You should be thanking us."

You could feel the bile rising in your throat, but you bit your lip, refusing to let her see how much her words stung. "I didn’t ask for this," you signed again, more forcefully this time.

She shook her head, her expression almost pitiful. "Of course, you didn’t," she signed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Who would, right? A girl like you—deaf, unremarkable, never good enough for anything more than a marriage of convenience. But look at you now. You’ve done it. You’ve secured your place."

You bit your tongue, trying not to let the tears sting at your eyes. She had always been this way, using your deafness to remind you of how little she thought of you.

Her next words were even sharper, and you could feel the coldness in every words as she signed, "You’ll never be anything more than a stepping stone for your husband's wealth and power. Look at you, finally fulfilling your role as a good little Choi wife."

You flinched at the bitterness in her words, but you held your ground, trying to keep the hurt from showing on your face. It was clear now that she wasn’t speaking to you as a daughter but as a means to an end. You were nothing more than a transaction in her eyes.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, signing with as much defiance as you could muster, "I’ll make my own future, with or without your help."

She rolled her eyes, signing back with a mocking smirk, "You think you’ll be anything without us, Y/n? The Choi family is your ticket. Don’t you see? You’ve got your future set, and this baby—this baby—is the final piece. You’ll be taken care of for the rest of your life, all thanks to us."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you didn’t react. You didn’t need to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

With a final glance at her, you signed, "I’ll make my own choices. You can’t control me anymore."

Your mother’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, sweetie," she signed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You never did have any real choices, did you?"

The finality in her words hit you hard, but you turned your back on her before she could say more. It didn’t matter anymore. You had made your decision long ago. The Choi family may have given you a life of comfort, but at what cost?

You left her house feeling emptier than when you arrived, the weight of your family’s expectations a bitter reminder of the path you had been forced onto.

"You've been silent. You don’t like the food? I can ask the cook to make you something else," Seungcheol’s voice was soft but laced with concern as he noticed you staring blankly at your plate, barely touching the food. You shook your head, offering a weak smile in his direction, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"It’s just... I don’t feel like eating," you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of everything you were feeling pressed down on you.

Seungcheol sighed, his expression tinged with worry as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving you. "Do you have anything in mind that you want to eat? You have to eat, love," he urged gently, his tone firm yet filled with care.

You shook your head once more, the knot in your throat tightening as you stood up from the dining table, your legs feeling heavier than usual. "I’m going to bed. My head hurts," you said, avoiding his gaze as you walked away, the words feeling suffocating in your chest.

Seungcheol didn’t push further, though his worry was palpable. He nodded quietly, watching you retreat to your shared bedroom. The soft click of the door closing behind you left an unsettling silence in the air, one that lingered in the room long after you were gone.

As soon as the door was shut, the weight of everything that had been building up inside you crashed over you. You let the tears fall, each one a painful reminder of the life you had been forced into, of the expectations you could never seem to escape. The facade you’d held up for so long finally crumbled, and you were left in the quiet emptiness of your own despair.

Till when do I have to endure this kind of life?

The question echoed in your mind, unanswered, as the tears continued to flow.

*

Seungcheol received a package that morning, its plain exterior offering no hint of the chaos it would bring. At first, there was nothing suspicious about it. But as he opened it, his stomach churned. Inside was a pair of women’s underwear, carefully folded, accompanied by a note that sent a cold shiver down his spine:

"Do you like it when she stares at your lips? I like it too."

Seungcheol crumpled the paper immediately, his fists tightening around it. His heart raced, not from surprise, but from the overwhelming disgust he felt. He knew exactly what the note was referring to—and he hated it. Hated that everyone found your gaze just as captivating as he did. It made him furious, this feeling of possessiveness creeping over him.

"Who sent this?" Seungcheol demanded, holding up the package to Jihoon.

Jihoon glanced at the contents, his brow furrowing with concern. Without hesitation, he dialed the security team. Moments later, he turned back to Seungcheol, his face tight with frustration.

“They said it was just a courier,” Jihoon informed him.

Seungcheol scoffed in disbelief, tossing the crumpled paper onto the desk. "A courier? That’s all they have? I want more than that."

"Can we track the sender?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice sharp with impatience.

Jihoon took the package from his hands, his eyes scanning it briefly. "I’ll get on it. I’ll let you know what I find," he assured him.

Seungcheol wasn’t satisfied, but he knew there was little else to do but wait. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration building in his chest. There were still so many questions left unanswered.

“What about the person who took my wife’s phone? Have you found them?” Seungcheol asked, his voice hard.

Jihoon handed him a file, his tone quieter now. "The phone was found near the hotel the next day. Whoever took it must have gotten rid of it immediately. It’ll take some time to track the voice, though."

Seungcheol flipped through the file, his gaze hardening as he processed the information.

“Are you familiar with the voice?” Jihoon asked, sensing Seungcheol’s growing unease.

Seungcheol shook his head, frustration bubbling inside him. "No. I don’t think they’re from anyone around me. And as for the Jeon family… Haven’t heard from them since Wonwoo got married."

He said it with a bitterness that was hard to miss. The Jeon family, once a rival of the Choi family, had always been a thorn in his side when it came to business dealings. And now, with a situation like this unfolding, it didn’t feel like a coincidence. Seungcheol couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than simple revenge or some random act.

"Whoever’s behind this is going to regret messing with my family," Seungcheol muttered under his breath.

The same threats arrived with relentless frequency—through emails, packages, and anonymous phone calls. But Seungcheol had long since stopped letting them consume him. None of it mattered as long as he knew you were safe with him. He’d doubled the security around your gallery and fortified the guards at his house. With his child growing inside you, his protective instincts had only intensified. You and the life you carried were his priority—his entire world.

For a while, that mantra kept him grounded. But by the fifth month of your pregnancy, as your belly began to show, the threats took a darker turn. They became more pointed, more unsettling. One email read, “Close her eyes and see what she heard.” Another note taunted, “She’ll never listen.” Each message seemed to inch closer to the secret they claimed to know.

He kept the weight of it all to himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of burdening you. You already endured enough—carrying his child, enduring the discomfort of pregnancy from morning until night. The last thing you needed was to shoulder his fears. No, this was his fight, and he was determined to keep it that way.

“As long as she’s safe.” That was the mantra he repeated to himself every day. It was his anchor, the thought that kept him moving forward despite the shadow looming over him.

“Do you think it could be someone from your past, sir?” Jihoon asked one evening, breaking the silence in Seungcheol’s office. He looked frustrated, just as perplexed as Seungcheol about the source of the threats. Ten years of working together still hadn’t prepared Jihoon for something like this.

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’ve pissed off plenty of people, sure, but nothing to warrant this kind of obsession.”

Jihoon frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “It doesn’t make sense for this to be random. Someone claims to know her secret. Someone knows you.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. That was the part he couldn’t wrap his head around. He’d always been someone who preferred moving forward rather than dwelling on the past. That was how he lived—how he thrived. But now, the threats weren’t just confusing; they were demanding something he didn’t know how to give.

“I’m not sure what they want. But they’re not getting her. They’ll have to go through me first,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and resolute.

Jihoon nodded, his expression grim. “We’ll figure this out, sir. But the longer it takes, the more dangerous it gets. These messages aren’t empty threats.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said quietly, his gaze hardening. He looked out the window, his hand instinctively resting on his phone in case you called. As long as she’s safe, he reminded himself. That was all that mattered. For now.

*

On your first anniversary, Seungcheol wanted to celebrate with an intimate dinner at home. He hired a renowned chef to curate a fine dining experience and had the house meticulously decorated with flowers and candles. It was meant to be a perfect evening, a celebration of your bond and the life you were building together. You were unaware of his plans, but a single photograph shattered the illusion.

The picture showed your home transformed into a romantic haven, the dining table adorned with delicate arrangements and warm, glowing lights. But as you stared at the photo, your surroundings brought a stark contrast. You were seated in a dim, suffocating room, the air damp and reeking of decay.

Jisoo stood before you, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone as he grinned. He closed the device with a soft click, his demeanor unsettlingly calm. You struggled to process the situation, piecing together fragments of memory.

Jisoo had offered to drive you home, assuring everyone—Myungho, the guards, and even yourself—that you were safe in his care. Yet here you were, trapped in a place you’d never seen, with a man you thought you trusted.

"Even like this, you still look pretty," Jisoo murmured, his voice gentle but laced with something sinister. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his hand brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

It took a moment for the realization to sink in: Jisoo had kidnapped you. The man who had been your psychiatrist, your lifeline when you lost your hearing, had betrayed you. He wasn’t the kind and attentive figure you had thought; he had been paid by your parents to ensure you stayed functional, nothing more.

"It took me months to get to this point, Y/n, so you better cooperate," Jisoo said, his grin widening. "Or else I’ll reveal everything to Choi Seungcheol."

Your stomach churned as his words sank in.

"A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve him, to be honest," he added, almost as if he were musing aloud. "But hear me out. You’ll leave him in a month. Come with me, or no one will be able to protect you."

"What are you talking about, Jisoo?" you asked, your voice trembling as your hands instinctively moved to shield your growing belly.

Jisoo chuckled, leaning back as though amused by your confusion. "Don’t act so innocent. I know you didn’t marry him for love. It was all for your family’s benefit."

You froze, his words striking a chord of truth that left you paralyzed.

"The investment the Choi family made into your family’s business—it saved them from ruin. But it wasn’t enough, was it? Your parents wanted more," Jisoo continued, his gaze dropping to your stomach with a flicker of disdain.

"No one wants this baby to disappear except for you and me, Y/n," he said, his tone softening into a chilling whisper. "I can give you the life you deserve, away from all of this."

His words sliced through you, leaving a gaping wound of betrayal. You had trusted Jisoo, confided in him during your most vulnerable moments. He had been there when no one else was, not even your mother. You had believed in his kindness, even supported him when he confided about the pain of losing someone he loved. But now, that same man was holding you hostage.

"You don’t understand, Y/n," Jisoo continued, his expression darkening. "All your secrets—your deafness, your marriage—they’ll all come out eventually. Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, he'll destroy you. But you don’t have to wait for that to happen. Leave him and run away with me."

"And if I don’t?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jisoo’s grin faded, replaced by a cold, menacing stare. "Then you and the baby... will get hurt."

Your heart pounded as you sat frozen in the suffocating room, his words reverberating in your mind. The man you had trusted was a stranger, his obsession and bitterness now a threat to everything you held dear. Betrayal tightened its grip around you, suffocating and inescapable. This was not a situation you had ever imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, trapped in a nightmare.

"Happy anniversary, love." Seungcheol’s voice was warm as he leaned down to kiss your temple. You barely managed to stand in front of him, your legs shaky and your heart heavier than ever as Jisoo’s words echoed in your mind.

"Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, he’ll destroy you."

Your eyes wandered across the room, taking in the meticulously arranged decorations, the fragrant flowers, and the elegant dinner set for two. The sight should have filled you with joy, but instead, it suffocated you. This wasn’t a celebration. It was a cruel reminder of everything you had been hiding. Every affectionate gesture, every whispered “I love you,” all laced with deceit.

Your chest tightened as you looked at Seungcheol. He stood before you with a loving smile, holding a bouquet in his hands, radiating pure happiness. Yet all you could see was the weight of your betrayal pressing down on you.

"It was all for your family’s benefit." Jisoo’s voice rang in your head, relentless and unyielding. You tried to silence it, but it only grew louder, drowning out the world around you.

Every night, as you lay beside Seungcheol, watching his peaceful figure in the dim light, you were reminded of the lies. The way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his features soft in sleep, it made you ache. He was so innocent, so trusting, so undeserving of the darkness you had brought into his life.

"I love you," Seungcheol said, his voice steady and sincere. The three words you feared most hung in the air, piercing through your facade. They weren’t just words to him—they were a promise, a testament to how deeply he cared for you. And you had used that love as a weapon, a means to an end.

Your family’s plan had succeeded flawlessly. They had wanted him to fall for you, to depend on you, to bind him to your family with a child. And now, here you were, carrying his baby, living a life built on manipulation.

"You’ll leave him in a month. Leave him and run away with me." Jisoo’s words were a persistent shadow, haunting every step you took.

You wished you could hear Seungcheol’s voice in this moment, soothing and full of love, reassuring you that everything would be alright. But you couldn’t. The silence in your world was unrelenting, leaving you trapped with only your thoughts and regrets.

And you wished you could hear yourself. Maybe then you would know how broken your voice sounded as tears streamed down your face, how your words betrayed your trembling resolve.

"I’m happy," you whispered, a lie wrapped in fragile sincerity. You weren’t happy—not with this life, not with the choices forced upon you. But you had made your decision. You had chosen to stay, chosen to protect the baby growing inside you, chosen to shield Seungcheol from the pain of the truth.

Because despite the lies, despite the betrayal, you couldn’t bear to hurt him. Seungcheol was the first person to love you without condition, without ulterior motives. And you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy the one person who had shown you what real love could be.

*

Seungcheol came home with his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing. Earlier that evening, Seo Myungho, your assistant, had paid him an unexpected visit at his office. It was past working hours, but the usually quiet and composed man had come with urgency etched across his face.

"I'm sorry for taking your time, but there's something you need to know," Myungho said, pulling out a photograph.

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Myungho placed the picture on the desk.

"I've worked for your wife for years, and my observations have never been wrong," Myungho began cautiously.

In the photograph, you were stepping out of a building with Jisoo, and the timestamp matched the day of your anniversary.

"I was supposed to drive her home that afternoon," Myungho continued, "but Mr. Hong insisted on taking her instead. I followed them. It took them two hours to get home, and this picture was taken while I was tailing his car."

Seungcheol's brows furrowed deeply. "Are you trying to say she's cheating on me?" he asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

Myungho hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's not something I can confirm, sir. But I will say this—she hasn’t been the same since that day. If they were involved in an affair, she wouldn’t have told me to stop letting Mr. Hong visit her gallery."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair. "What exactly are you insinuating, Seo Myungho?"

After a pause, Myungho finally said what had been weighing on his conscience. "Your wife… I think she’s in danger."

The words hit Seungcheol like a thunderclap.

When he stepped into the house, his voice echoed through the empty halls. "Y/n!" he called. There was no answer. He hurriedly searched every room, his calls growing louder and more frantic.

"Y/n!"

Finally, he made his way to his home office. That’s when he noticed your phone lying on his desk, ringing in response to his calls. The top drawer of the desk, where he kept the bank books, was slightly ajar. His stomach twisted when he realized the bank book with your name was missing.

Unlocking your phone, Seungcheol’s blood ran cold. On the screen was a series of messages, the tone eerily similar to the threats he had been receiving over the past months.

"Leave the house now, or I’ll tell everything about your secret."

Seungcheol’s grip tightened around the phone as he immediately dialed Jihoon. His voice was steady but filled with urgency as he barked orders. "Mobilize everyone. Start searching for her now."

He scanned the phone again, another message flashing on the screen.

"I’ll wait for you at the park near the bank."

Seungcheol sent Jihoon the location before sprinting to his car. He had no doubt now—whoever had been threatening him was after you too.

"My boss… your wife…" Myungho’s earlier words echoed in his mind, the revelation twisting like a knife in his gut.

"She’s deaf," Myungho had said quietly. "She lost her hearing in a car accident. I overheard a conversation between her and her mother once."

Seungcheol pressed harder on the gas pedal, weaving through traffic as Myungho’s voice played on repeat in his head.

"Do you know how much your wife has suffered in this marriage? I thought she found solace in Mr. Hong at first. But then she told me to stop allowing him to visit, and that’s when I realized—he wasn’t helping her anymore."

Seungcheol gripped the wheel tighter, fury and dread clawing at his chest.

"Mr. Hong likes your wife, sir. And I believe he’s the one behind these threats."

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Jisoo had been manipulating everything, orchestrating the threats, and now he had escalated to targeting you. Seungcheol’s heart raced as he sped toward the park, the weight of the truth pressing down on him.

"What is his deal?" Seungcheol muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling in his chest as he raced toward the park. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. Seeing Jun’s name on the screen, he immediately answered, his voice commanding, "Speak!"

"Sir, where are you?" Jun’s voice came through, laced with confusion. "Everyone is in front of Seoul Bank, but we don’t see you or Mr. Lee here."

Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as anger flared in his chest. "It’s the park near SK Bank, not Seoul Bank!" he snapped, his voice booming.

Jun hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback, before replying, "But sir, Mr. Lee instructed us to gather at Seoul Bank."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. His mind raced as he processed the situation. Why had Jihoon sent his team to a different location? Was it a mistake, or was there something more sinister at play?

"Forget what Mr. Lee said and head to SK Bank immediately," Seungcheol barked.

"Understood, sir. We’re moving now," Jun replied before the line disconnected.

Seungcheol’s mind churned as he pushed the car to its limit. Was there something he was missing? Jihoon was one of his most trusted people, yet this discrepancy felt off. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, whispering that this was more than just a miscommunication.

Every second felt like an eternity as Seungcheol’s thoughts spiraled. Had Jihoon deliberately sent his team elsewhere to buy time? If so, why?

His gut told him the pieces of the puzzle weren’t adding up. If Jihoon was involved in this, there would be hell to pay. For now, all that mattered was finding you.

*

Seungcheol first met Jihoon during the interview for his secretary team recruitment. Even then, he could see the passion and fire in Jihoon’s eyes—a fighting spirit that convinced him this man could help navigate the treacherous waters of the dark business he was trying to expand. Back when Seungcheol left his position at his father’s company to build his own empire, Jihoon had been his first hire, his personal assistant. For the past ten years, they had been inseparable, working side by side through every challenge and victory. Jihoon wasn’t just an employee; he was someone Seungcheol trusted with his life.

But that trust was now hanging by a thread.

Seungcheol’s heart dropped when he saw Jihoon’s car parked by the curb. He hurried over, peering inside only to find it empty. His gaze darted around the area, but there was no sign of Jihoon—and more importantly, no sign of you.

Panic mixed with fury as emotions churned violently inside him. He clenched his fists, his breathing ragged, and immediately dialed Jun. His voice was sharp and commanding when Jun picked up.

“Track Jihoon’s location. Now. He’s missing,” Seungcheol ordered.

“Understood, sir,” Jun replied quickly, not daring to ask further questions.

Seungcheol ended the call, his mind racing. Jihoon had been the first person he’d confided in about the threats. He’d trusted Jihoon to investigate, to handle everything discreetly. But now, the puzzle pieces were falling into place. Jihoon had sent the team to the wrong location deliberately—to buy himself time.

And that could only mean one thing. Jihoon wasn’t just aware of the threats. He was one of them.

A cold realization settled over Seungcheol, chilling him to the core. The man he had trusted for a decade had betrayed him, and now you were in danger because of it.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, gripping his phone tightly as he fought the urge to call the police. That wasn’t an option, not for him. He’d made the mistake of involving the police before and paid dearly for it. His hands weren’t clean, and he knew better than to invite unnecessary scrutiny into his life.

All he could do now was rely on his people, his resources, and his determination. He couldn’t afford to let emotions cloud his judgment. He had to focus on two things: finding you and finding Jihoon.

And when he did, Jihoon would have to answer for everything. For the lies, for the betrayal, and most of all, for putting you in harm’s way.

A phone call shattered the tense silence as Seungcheol sat in the living room of his parents' house. The air was heavy with shared worry and shock, each family member struggling to process the sudden revelation of Jihoon’s betrayal.

Seungcheol’s spine stiffened the moment he heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was unmistakable—Jihoon. The man who had been his closest confidant for ten years had finally revealed himself.

“Choi Seungcheol,” Jihoon’s voice came cold and calculated, carrying a chilling undertone.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, the weight of realization pressing down on him. “So it’s you,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

A low, mocking laugh echoed through the line, and Jihoon’s voice followed, dripping with venom. “Hong Jisoo did a great job moving Y/n. He’s a better player than I expected.”

Seungcheol gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles whitening. “What do you want, Jihoon? What dragged you into this madness?”

Another laugh escaped Jihoon’s lips, sharper and colder this time. “Beg, Choi Seungcheol,” he hissed. “At least suffer for a bit. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Ruining lives and walking away.”

“Stop speaking in riddles!” Seungcheol barked, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice.

But Jihoon’s next words stopped him cold. “You killed my mother that night,” Jihoon spat, his voice trembling with years of suppressed rage. “Do you even remember? Or is it just another ghost buried under the weight of your family’s sins?”

Seungcheol froze, the accusation hitting him like a freight train. “I never killed anyone! Especially not a woman!” he shouted, his mind scrambling to make sense of Jihoon’s claim.

Jihoon let out a bitter laugh, his tone growing harsher. “Oh, maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was your father. Honestly, I don’t care anymore. Your entire family is a wreck!”

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol started, trying to piece it together. “What are you talking about? What happened to your mother?”

Jihoon’s voice cracked with raw emotion. “You could’ve saved her, Seungcheol. You were there. You saw her lying in the street after that accident. Instead of helping, you let your driver speed off. You left her—my mother—alone to die at the crossroad near Jongno.”

The memory stirred faintly in Seungcheol’s mind, a shadowy fragment from years ago. A car accident. A desperate night. Could it be true? Had his family been responsible? Was this all Jihoon’s revenge?

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his voice low and steady. “Jihoon, if what you’re saying is true, let’s talk about it. Let’s fix this.”

But Jihoon’s response was icy. “Fix it? You can’t fix what’s already broken, Choi Seungcheol. Your family destroyed mine, and now it’s my turn to take everything from you.”

There was a pause on the line, a dreadful silence that made Seungcheol’s heart race.

“Let’s see if your wife survives this,” Jihoon said, his voice eerily calm.

And then, a deafening gunshot rang through the phone.

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol yelled into the receiver, his voice cracking with panic. But the call had already ended, leaving him in a suffocating void of silence and dread.

*

"You promised not to hurt her!" Jisoo shouted, his voice trembling as he held up a gun, his eyes wide with panic. He had just witnessed Jihoon aiming the weapon at you, your unconscious form sprawled on the cold floor. At the last second, Jisoo lunged, shoving Jihoon’s hand away. The gun fired, the bullet ricocheting off the far wall, narrowly missing you.

Jihoon snarled in frustration, swinging his arm to shove Jisoo aside. Jisoo stumbled and fell hard onto the floor, the gun now pointed directly at him. Jihoon’s gaze burned with fury.

“This is your fault,” Jihoon hissed, his voice like ice. “You left her phone at Seungcheol’s house. Do you realize how close he came to finding us?”

Jisoo glared up at him, his expression a mixture of anger and betrayal. “This isn’t about her! What you want is Seungcheol! There’s no need to hurt her!”

Jihoon let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Seungcheol made me lose someone I loved. Isn’t it only fair he loses his? Who told him to have a weakness in the first place?”

“You’re insane, Jihoon,” Jisoo spat, his voice rising with disbelief. “This was never the deal!”

“I make the deal,” Jihoon said with a cruel smirk. “I decide how it plays out.”

Jihoon had pieced everything together when he discovered who had called Seungcheol using your phone that fateful night. It was Hong Jisoo—your old friend and, ironically, your psychiatrist. Jihoon’s curiosity was piqued. Why would an old friend go so far as to threaten his friend's husband?

The answer came quickly: Jisoo was in love with you. He had been ever since you became his patient. Jihoon saw the truth in Jisoo’s eyes—the way he lingered on your name, the way he spoke about you with barely contained bitterness. Jisoo had been waiting patiently, hoping for his chance. But that chance never came. Your family, powerful and calculating, had arranged your marriage to the Choi family. To someone far wealthier, far more influential than Jisoo could ever be.

Jisoo felt betrayed. Everything he’d done for you, all the time he’d spent caring for you, meant nothing in the end. His motives became clear: he wanted to end your marriage at any cost. And when Jihoon offered an alliance, Jisoo jumped at the opportunity, even if it meant working with someone as dangerous as Jihoon.

The final piece of Jihoon’s plan clicked into place when he saw you. The day of your blind date with Seungcheol, Jihoon had been there, driving the car to pick up his boss. He noticed you speaking with someone in sign language, your hands moving fluidly as you signed, “I can sign because I’m deaf.”

It was a fleeting moment, but it struck Jihoon deeply. His mother had been deaf too, and in that instant, he saw the vulnerability Seungcheol had brought into his life. Jihoon began to watch closely, waiting for Seungcheol to fall for you, and when he did, Jihoon knew he had found the Choi family’s Achilles’ heel.

You.

Seungcheol’s love for you had turned you into his greatest weakness. Jihoon’s plan had been carefully orchestrated, each move designed to exploit that vulnerability and make Seungcheol pay for the sins of his family.

And now, standing over Jisoo with a gun in hand, Jihoon felt the culmination of his years of planning. The question was no longer whether Seungcheol would suffer—it was how much.

Jisoo’s hands trembled as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, his gaze locked on Jihoon, who stood menacingly with the gun aimed at him. The weight of betrayal, desperation, and fear swirled in Jisoo’s mind.

“I won’t let you do this,” Jisoo growled, his voice raw with emotion.

Jihoon cocked his head to the side, his smirk unwavering. “You won’t let me? What can you possibly do, Jisoo? You’ve already played your part. It’s over.”

But it wasn’t over—not for Jisoo. In one swift motion, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming under the dim light. Without hesitation, he lunged at Jihoon with all his strength, his movements driven by pure instinct and fury.

Jihoon’s eyes widened in surprise as Jisoo’s body collided with his. The gun went off, the sound of the shot reverberating through the air, but the bullet missed its mark, hitting the wall instead. Jihoon staggered back, his grip on the gun faltering as Jisoo shoved the knife into his side with brutal force.

A guttural cry of pain tore from Jihoon’s throat as he felt the blade sink into his flesh. Blood seeped through his shirt, staining the fabric crimson. Jihoon’s hand instinctively tightened around the gun, his vision blurring from the searing pain.

“You think this will stop me?” Jihoon hissed, his voice strained but laced with venom.

Jisoo didn’t respond, his breathing ragged as he pushed the knife deeper, his resolve unshaken. He could feel Jihoon weakening beneath his grip, but he underestimated just how dangerous Jihoon could be, even in his wounded state.

With a surge of adrenaline, Jihoon raised the gun and fired again, this time hitting Jisoo square in the shoulder. The force of the shot sent Jisoo stumbling backward, his grip on the knife loosening as he fell to the ground.

Both men were now gasping for air, their bodies trembling from the pain and exertion. Blood pooled on the floor between them, the room thick with the metallic scent of violence.

Jihoon clutched his side, his hand slick with blood as he leaned against the wall for support. His gaze flickered to Jisoo, who lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder and groaning in agony.

“You really thought you could outsmart me?” Jihoon sneered, though his voice was weaker now, his energy draining rapidly.

Jisoo coughed, his chest heaving as he glared at Jihoon through the haze of pain. “You’re no better than the people you claim to hate,” he spat. “You’ve become the monster you wanted to destroy.”

Jihoon’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the gun. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his tone cold. “But at least I’ll have justice for my mother. You? You’re nothing but a coward, Jisoo. Hiding behind your obsession.”

Jisoo’s hand twitched, reaching for the knife still embedded in Jihoon’s side. But before he could grab it, Jihoon raised the gun again, aiming directly at Jisoo’s chest.

“I warned you,” Jihoon said, his voice icy and devoid of emotion. “Stay out of my way.”

The sound of another gunshot echoed through the room. Jisoo’s body went still, his eyes wide in shock before they slowly fluttered shut.

Jihoon let out a ragged, shaky breath, his knees giving way as he collapsed to the floor. His hand instinctively moved to the knife buried in his side, but he didn’t dare pull it out, knowing it would only hasten the flow of blood. Pain shot through him with every shallow breath he took, sharp and unrelenting, as if his body were punishing him for every choice that had led to this moment.

His vision blurred, the room tilting as the strength in his legs failed him completely. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to steady himself, but the cold surface only amplified the chill spreading through his body. Each heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, a reminder of how quickly his time was slipping away.

As his gaze wandered across the room, it landed briefly on the lifeless form of Jisoo, crumpled a few feet away, his blood staining the floor in dark, viscous pools. The memory of the fight replayed in Jihoon's mind like a broken record—Jisoo’s desperate lunge, the glint of the blade, the deafening crack of the gun.

Jihoon’s breath hitched, his hand pressing harder against his wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. The edges of his vision darkened, the world around him losing focus. His chest heaved as he tried to stay conscious, but the weight of his injuries was too much to bear.

The room felt eerily quiet now, the echoes of their struggle replaced by the faint, distant hum of the city beyond these walls. Jihoon tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling as a bitter smile played on his lips.

*

Seungcheol’s heart hammered in his chest as he and his team stormed through the abandoned harbor. The old warehouse loomed ahead, a towering silhouette against the dark sky. Every breath felt heavier as he pushed forward, each step fraught with mounting dread. They had tracked Jihoon’s location down to this forsaken place—now, all he could think of was finding you, ensuring you were still alive.

The sound of his boots pounding against the cracked pavement echoed in the still night air as he reached the heavy doors of the warehouse. With one forceful push, they creaked open, revealing the cavernous interior dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. The air was thick with the smell of rust and dampness, the kind of place that whispered forgotten secrets.

But what greeted him inside was far worse than he’d imagined.

Blood. It was everywhere. Pools of dark crimson staining the cold concrete floor. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as his eyes darted across the scene. His team fanned out, but Seungcheol’s gaze was drawn to the lifeless body of Jisoo, sprawled across the floor in an unnatural position. The unmistakable evidence of a gunshot wound on his chest confirmed that he was beyond saving.

Seungcheol’s pulse quickened, a suffocating pressure forming in his chest. He couldn’t stop his legs from carrying him toward the body. His eyes briefly shut as the weight of the situation settled into his bones. Jisoo—dead.

But where were you?

His breath hitched as his gaze swept the warehouse. There was no sign of you. No trace of Jihoon. The blood led into a narrow corridor at the back of the warehouse. His pulse raced, the fear gnawing at him like a festering wound.

“Search the entire place. Don’t leave a single corner unchecked,” Seungcheol ordered, his voice tight with barely controlled panic.

His men scattered, checking every shadow, every room, but still, no sign of you. His heart sank with every passing second. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of their frantic searching.

Seungcheol moved toward the back, following the blood trail. It led to a door cracked slightly open, its edges stained with crimson. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, his eyes scanning the area for any clue, anything that could point him to you.

There were drag marks. Disturbingly faint, but they were there. Leading toward the docks.

His mind screamed at him to hurry. “Get to the docks! Block all exits!” Seungcheol barked. He could barely hear his own words over the rush of blood in his ears, his vision narrowing with each second.

He needed to find you. He would find you. No matter what it took, no matter the cost.

The water lapped softly against the shore, the only sound that seemed to break the tense stillness. Seungcheol stared out at the dark horizon, feeling the weight of the past few hours pressing on him. Was it too late?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered, barely audible to anyone but himself, as he squared his shoulders. “I swear I will.”

*

You ran, your heart pounding in your chest as the cold night air stung your skin. Your feet, bare and scraped from the rough pavement, barely registered the pain as you pushed your body to its limits. You could still hear the haunting memory of Jihoon’s voice in your head, feel the weight of Jisoo’s betrayal in your bones.

They wouldn't come back. They couldn't come back.

The thought of them finding you again, of them dragging you back into their nightmare, was enough to keep you moving even as exhaustion threatened to pull you under. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your throat dry and tight with thirst, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

And then, just as you were beginning to feel your legs betray you, you saw them—a group of women, dressed in thick wetsuits, their movements confident and assured. They were divers, the kind who harvested abalone, their hands strong from years of working the sea. They noticed you before you could stagger past them, their trained eyes immediately scanning your bloodstained dress and the wild, frantic look in your eyes.

"Young woman? Are you okay?" One of them called out, her voice gentle but concerned.

You lifted a hand, weakly waving in their direction. You could feel your body weakening, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. The ground beneath you tilted, and your knees nearly gave way. You knew you couldn’t keep running for much longer. Your vision blurred, but you forced the words out.

“I was kidnapped…” Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The truth hung in the air like a heavy weight. They could see it in your eyes—the terror, the exhaustion, the desperation.

The women exchanged quick glances, scanning your disheveled state, the blood on your dress that stained the night darker still. They didn’t question you. Instead, one of them stepped forward, her tone gentle but firm.

“Come with us,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest. Your legs wobbled beneath you as they carefully supported you, guiding you away from the dangers you’d just escaped.

With each step, you felt yourself slipping closer to unconsciousness. The dim lights of the village shimmered like a distant dream, and you clung to the hope that, maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, you were finally safe.

*

"What happened that night?" Seungcheol demanded, his voice cold and heavy as he confronted his father. The room was dimly lit, the weight of the topic casting a suffocating shadow over them. The matter at hand was the death of a woman his father’s car had struck 15 years ago—a moment that had come back to haunt them both.

His father took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. "She was a cleaner at our company. But before that, she was a witness to one of our transactions. She confronted the leaders and threatened to report everything to the police unless she got paid off." His tone was calm, detached, as though recounting a mundane business deal.

Seungcheol’s fists clenched. "And?"

"I gave her enough money to raise her children. More than enough. I even found her a job. She was deaf, Seungcheol, and no one was willing to hire someone like that back then."

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as the pieces fell into place. Jihoon’s mother had been employed as a cleaner for several months before that fateful night. But it didn’t end there.

"She demanded more money," his father continued, voice devoid of remorse. "She wanted more, and I had no better option than to make her disappear."

Seungcheol felt a wave of nausea as his father’s words hit him. He nodded grimly, the memory of that night flashing in his mind. "That’s what I knew. She wanted more money," he muttered, almost to himself. "That’s why I left her that night. I thought she was just another extortionist."

There was silence between them until his father broke it. "And your wife? Has anyone found her?"

Seungcheol shook his head, his heart sinking further into despair. "No. Neither her nor Jihoon." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. The thought of you out there—alive or worse—was unbearable. You were the first person he had ever truly loved, and now you were gone, all because of the vengeance Jihoon had carried for years.

His father frowned, his brows knitting together. "No body was found in the water either?"

Seungcheol exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "No. But there was blood on the edge of the dock."

His father’s eyes darkened. "Do you think it was Jihoon’s?"

Seungcheol hesitated, biting his lip as his gaze met his father’s. "I wish it was. But..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

His father studied him carefully before speaking. "There’s something else, isn’t there?"

Seungcheol’s throat tightened as he admitted quietly, "was it possible? She’s pregnant."

The weight of the revelation hung in the air. His father nodded in understanding, his expression grim. "We’ll send more people tomorrow," he said firmly, rising to his feet. He placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, his grip surprisingly steady. "We’ll find closure, one way or another."

Seungcheol didn’t respond, his thoughts spiraling. He didn’t want closure. He wanted you. And the uncertainty of whether you were alive or gone was a torment he wasn’t sure he could endure.

One week.

Two weeks.

A month.

Three months.

Time crawled by as the search for you carried on, only to come to a devastating halt. After three agonizing months, Seungcheol made the painful decision to officially call off the large-scale search. The slowdown in the business was affecting countless lives, and he couldn’t justify sacrificing so many for his own personal grief. Yet, in his heart, the search never truly stopped.

Every weekend, Seungcheol would find himself wandering from one village to another near the abandoned harbor, relentless in his quest. He’d strike up conversations with locals and ask questions.

“Do you have a picture of her?” a villager would ask.

Seungcheol would pull out the photograph, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed it over. You always looked beautiful to him, flawless in every way. Even now, with the ache of your absence, he could only see perfection in your face. The day he’d first laid eyes on you, he’d been captivated, unable to believe someone like you could exist.

The truth of your deafness, which your parents finally revealed to him on the night you disappeared, hadn’t changed his view of you at all. If anything, it made him ache more for what you had endured.

“It was my idea to hide the fact she is deaf! Please forgive me, Son-in-law,” your mother had pleaded, her voice cracking with guilt.

Seungcheol had stared at her, his chest tightening with anger and disbelief. “Tell me one reason why her deafness was a secret.”

“Because a woman’s obligation as a wife is to listen,” she replied, the words cutting through him like a knife.

His hands clenched at his sides. He couldn’t imagine the kind of torment you must have endured growing up in a household like this. The burden of expectations, the cruel standard you were forced to meet—it was suffocating to even think about.

Your mother continued, as if the words excused her actions. “We were relieved when we found out she was pregnant. At least she fulfilled one of her obligations. She lost so much after the accident...”

“Stop,” Seungcheol snapped, his voice laced with restrained fury. “Stop speaking about her in the past tense. She’s still with us. She has to be.”

But even as he confronted your mother’s callousness, doubt and fear gnawed at his heart. Every village he visited, every person he spoke to, left him with nothing but disappointment.

“We’ve never seen anyone like her,” a villager said, shaking their head. “She’s so beautiful. Is she your wife?”

Seungcheol nodded, a faint, hollow smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, she’s my wife.”

That evening, as he drove back home, the weight of his failure pressed down on him. The house, once filled with your warmth, now felt unbearably quiet. The memories of you lingered in every corner—the way you smiled, the way you turned your head to face him whenever he spoke, the way you stared at his lips, a habit he’d never fully understood until now.

It was during those lonely nights that everything started to make sense.

Your habit of always needing to face him when he spoke. The lack of phone calls. The way you’d tilt your head and say, “What?” if he wasn’t looking directly at you.

You couldn’t hear him.

And he’d never realized it.

He thought back to all the times Hong Jisoo had tried to hint at the truth through his cryptic threats. Jisoo had known, just as your parents had, that you had been forced into the marriage. Seungcheol clenched his fists, anger and regret churning inside him.

He felt like he had failed you—not just as a husband but as the man who should have protected you from all of this.

And now, you were gone.

His phone rang in the dead of night, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. Seungcheol groggily reached for it, his heart sinking at the thought of more bad news. But when he saw the caller ID, his exhaustion was replaced by curiosity.

Seo Myungho.

Your former assistant had never called him again after that time, let alone at this hour.

Seungcheol answered, his voice hoarse, “Hello?”

“I found her.”

Three words. Just three words. But they hit him like a lightning bolt, sending him bolting upright from the bed.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice sharp and desperate now, as if he couldn’t trust what he’d just heard.

“I found her, sir.”

*

Myungho’s search for you had been relentless, driven by a determination he couldn’t explain but refused to ignore. He carefully tracked your weeks, estimating your birthing date. His method was simple but meticulous—he regularly visited hospitals and clinics in the areas surrounding the harbor where you had last been seen. It was a grueling process, but last week, his persistence paid off.

He spotted you stepping out of a small clinic, your rounded stomach unmistakable. Myungho’s heart skipped a beat. If his calculations were correct, you were due any day now.

Discreetly, he followed you back to a modest village nestled along the coastline. There, he discovered an elderly woman had taken you under her wing, providing you with shelter and care during these past months. Myungho watched from a distance, observing how you seemed to have created a life for yourself despite everything. He saw you teaching local children sign language, your hands moving gracefully as the kids mirrored your gestures with bright, eager faces.

“What are you doing here, young man?” A gruff voice startled him one afternoon. He turned to see an elderly man approaching, his gaze sharp but curious. “You’re not from around here. Are you from the city?”

Caught off guard, Myungho scrambled for a believable response. “Uh, yes. I’m here looking for a great restaurant,” he said quickly. “The kind that serves abalone.”

The old man’s face brightened. “Well, you’re in luck! I’ve got the best abalone in the area. Come on, come on, I’ll serve you myself!”

With little choice but to follow, Myungho was soon seated at a modest table in the man’s small home. A steaming plate of abalone was placed in front of him, the rich aroma filling the air.

As the man chatted, he grew more animated. “You know, there was a big fuss a few months ago. A young woman came here—a deaf woman, staying at Mrs. Jeong’s house. They say she ran away from her husband. Nobody knows what really happened to her, though.”

“Enough, old man!” a woman’s voice scolded. Myungho turned to see the man’s wife slapping his arm lightly. “It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“I was just talking,” the old man grumbled, rubbing his arm.

The woman sighed and turned to Myungho apologetically. “Mrs. Jeong is a respected figure in this village, and she asked us to keep the young woman’s presence a secret. I hope you understand.”

Myungho nodded, hiding his relief. Mrs. Jeong. Now he had a name—a connection to you. He had finally found the key to bringing you back.

When the due was coming, the pain from the contractions gripped your body like a vice, leaving you breathless. The small clinic in the village had tried their best, but it quickly became clear they couldn’t handle the complications of your delivery. You needed a cesarean, and time was running out.

As you sat hunched on the clinic bench, clutching your swollen belly, Myungho appeared. His presence was unexpected, his expression calm but urgent.

“I’ll take her to the hospital,” he said firmly, addressing the worried midwife.

The midwife looked at you, hesitant. “It’s a long drive, and the baby could come anytime,” she said.

Myungho met your gaze. “We don’t have a choice. Let’s go.”

You blinked, stunned by his sudden appearance. “Why are you here?” you asked weakly, the pain stealing the strength from your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, guiding you carefully toward his car. His hands were steady but firm as he helped you into the passenger seat. “I’ll explain later,” he said, closing the door and rushing to the driver’s side.

The contractions were coming faster now, each one making you grip the seat harder. The car sped down the uneven village roads, Myungho’s hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Breathe,” he said, glancing at you. “Focus on breathing.”

You tried, but the pain was overwhelming. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your vision blurred. Between the waves of agony, your mind buzzed with questions. How did he find you? Why was he here?

The ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching into minutes. Myungho’s jaw was tight, his focus unwavering as he navigated the winding roads.

When the lights of the hospital came into view, a weak sigh of relief escaped your lips. Myungho pulled up to the emergency entrance and jumped out, shouting for help.

Within moments, a team of medical staff surrounded you, gently lifting you onto a gurney. Myungho stayed by your side until the doors to the operating room loomed ahead.

You reached out, grabbing his sleeve. “Why are you here?” you asked again, your voice trembling.

He paused, looking down at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “Because someone had to protect you,” he said softly. “And I owe it to him.”

Before you could process his words, the doors swung open, and you were whisked away. As the bright lights of the operating room blurred your vision, one thought lingered in your mind—was he talking about Seungcheol?

*

Seungcheol stormed into the administration ward, his breath ragged as his frantic eyes scanned the room. When he spotted Myungho standing near the counter, clutching a pen and a clipboard, he closed the distance in long, hurried strides.

Without hesitation, Seungcheol grabbed Myungho’s arm, his grip firm but trembling. His voice was raw, almost pleading. “Tell me she’s alive.”

Myungho looked up, startled but composed. “Please calm down, sir,” he said, his tone steady yet empathetic. “I assure you, she’s fine. She’s in the operating room right now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in shock, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The operating room? Why? What’s wrong?!” His chest tightened with dread as scenarios raced through his mind.

Setting the clipboard aside, Myungho placed a reassuring hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder and guided him toward the waiting lounge outside the operating room. “Today is her due date,” Myungho explained as they walked. “She’s giving birth to your child.”

The words hit Seungcheol like a tidal wave, rendering him momentarily speechless. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on Myungho as if needing confirmation that he’d heard correctly. “My… child?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief and a glimmer of hope.

Myungho nodded firmly. “Yes, sir. She went into labor earlier, but the clinic in the village couldn’t handle the delivery. It’s a cesarean operation. That’s why I brought her here.”

Seungcheol’s shoulders sagged, a mix of relief and anxiety washing over him. He pressed a hand over his mouth, his thoughts racing between fear for your safety and the realization that he was about to become a father.

“I need to see her,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

Myungho shook his head gently. “The doctors are doing everything they can. All we can do now is wait.”

As they reached the waiting lounge, Seungcheol sank into one of the chairs, his head falling into his hands. The sterile smell of the hospital and the faint hum of medical equipment filled the silence around him.

“She’s strong,” Myungho said softly, standing beside him. “She’s been through so much, but she’s strong. And she’s going to make it through this.”

Seungcheol nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought back tears. “I should’ve found her sooner,” he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve protected her.”

“You’re here now,” Myungho said firmly. “And that’s what matters.”

Time crawled by with agonizing slowness as Seungcheol remained in the waiting lounge. His gaze never left the double doors leading to the operating room. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on his anxious expression, emphasizing the deep lines of worry etched into his face.

He tapped his foot impatiently, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on his chest. Myungho sat a few seats away, silent but observant, giving Seungcheol space while staying close in case he was needed.

Finally, the double doors swung open. A doctor stepped out, his surgical mask still in place, his face partially obscured but his eyes calm and professional. Seungcheol shot to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Doctor, how is she? Is she okay? And the baby?” he asked in a rush, his voice trembling.

The doctor gave a small, reassuring nod. “Both the mother and baby are safe. The operation went smoothly.”

Relief flooded through Seungcheol like a wave, his knees threatening to give out beneath him. He exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his chest as if to steady his racing heart. “Thank God,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“The mother is resting now, but you can see her shortly,” the doctor continued. “The baby has been moved to the nursery for observation, but everything looks good.”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol said earnestly, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and shook the doctor’s hand firmly, his gratitude evident in his grip.

Moments later, a nurse led Seungcheol to your recovery room. The sight of you lying in the hospital bed, pale but peaceful, made his chest tighten. He approached cautiously, his footsteps soft as if afraid to disturb you.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. When your gaze met his, a flicker of recognition crossed your tired face. “Seungcheol…” you murmured, your voice weak but laced with emotion.

He sank into the chair beside your bed, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not finding you sooner, for everything you’ve been through…”

You managed a faint smile, your fingers curling weakly around his. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re here now.”

Seungcheol leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I’m never leaving again,” he vowed.

The nurse returned moments later, wheeling in a small bassinet. Inside, a tiny bundle of life stirred, letting out a soft cry. Seungcheol stood, his breath catching as he saw the baby for the first time. The nurse carefully lifted the infant and placed them in your arms.

You both gazed down at the child, a mix of emotions reflected in your tired but radiant faces. “It’s a boy,” the nurse said with a smile before quietly stepping out to give you privacy.

Seungcheol leaned over, his hand resting gently on the baby’s tiny head. “He’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

For the first time in months, the weight on Seungcheol’s heart lifted as he held onto the two people who now meant everything to him.

*

"We don't have to talk about anything yet. Your recovery is my priority now," Seungcheol said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He gently tucked the blanket around you, his touch as careful as if you might break. Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your temple, the warmth of his lips lingering like a silent promise.

"Choi Doahn," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips as you cradled your baby for the first time. It was barely audible, but Seungcheol caught it. The way you spoke the name—so full of love and meaning—etched itself into his heart. From that moment, he began calling the baby Doahn.

Doahn now rested peacefully in the small crib beside your bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm with his soft breaths. Seungcheol couldn’t take his eyes off him. The baby was so small, so delicate, yet he already held a monumental presence in Seungcheol’s life. He crouched beside the crib, his hand hovering over Doahn as if afraid his touch might disturb the baby's perfect tranquility.

Seungcheol’s heart ached with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. How much of this had he missed? The small kicks, the first signs of life, the moments you must have longed to share with him during your pregnancy—he hadn’t been there. He had failed to protect you both when you needed him most.

When the nurse handed Doahn to him for skin-to-skin bonding, Seungcheol felt his breath hitch. The baby stirred slightly in his arms, a soft murmur escaping his tiny lips before settling again. As Seungcheol cradled him against his chest, the warmth of Doahn’s fragile body against his skin unleashed a flood of emotions he had held back for too long.

Tears streamed down Seungcheol’s face, unbidden and unstoppable. They weren’t just tears of relief, but also of guilt, sorrow, and overwhelming love. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Doahn’s head, his lips trembling as he whispered, "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, and I’ll never leave you or your mother again. I promise, Doahn."

You watched from the bed, your heart full despite your exhaustion. Seeing Seungcheol with your baby, the tenderness in his touch, and the raw emotion on his face reminded you of the man you fell in love with—the man who always cared so deeply, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

Seungcheol turned to you, his tear-streaked face breaking into a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Thank you for giving me him… for fighting through everything. I don’t deserve either of you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you both feel loved and safe."

In that quiet room, the three of you found a moment of peace amidst the chaos that had brought you here. It wasn’t the end of the journey, but it was the beginning of a new one—a chance to heal, to grow, and to finally be a family.

It was late afternoon when Seungcheol finally broached the subject. The soft glow of the sun streamed through the hospital room window, casting a warm light over you as you rested in bed. Doahn was asleep in the crib beside you, his small form wrapped in a blanket. Seungcheol sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped tightly together, as though gathering the courage to speak.

"I think we need to talk now," he said gently, his voice low so as not to wake the baby. He searched your face, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotions.

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the blanket draped over your lap. You had been waiting for this moment, dreading it but knowing it was inevitable. "Where do we start?" you asked softly, your voice carrying both hesitation and resolve.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I want to start with an apology," he said, his tone steady but thick with emotion. "I failed you, love. I should’ve protected you, been there for you when you needed me most. Instead, you had to face all of this alone." His voice cracked slightly, and he paused, looking down at his hands. "I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. And I’m sorry for not realizing sooner… about your hearing. I should’ve known."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It wasn’t your fault," you said after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. "I kept it a secret because I was scared. My parents…" You hesitated, the memories of their harsh words and expectations still painful. "They told me I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone if people knew. I didn’t want to burden you with it."

Seungcheol’s heart clenched at your words. "Y/n, you’re not a burden. You never were, and you never will be. I hate that they made you feel that way." He reached out, his hand covering yours. "You’re perfect to me, just the way you are."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I was so scared, Seungcheol," you admitted, your voice trembling. "When Jihoon took me, when I was alone in that village… I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d given up on me."

"I never gave up," Seungcheol said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening. "Not for a second. I searched for you every day. Even when the official search ended, I couldn’t stop. I knew you were out there, and I had to find you."

You nodded, the sincerity in his words soothing some of the pain you had carried. "I know now," you said softly. "And I’m grateful. For everything you’ve done for me and for Doahn."

Seungcheol’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "We’ve both been through so much," he said. "But I want us to move forward together. As a family. No more secrets, no more fear. Just us, starting fresh."

Seungcheol had been watching you with quiet anticipation, his gaze filled with patience and love. You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes with a resolve you hadn’t felt in years.

"If.." you began, your voice steady but laced with emotion. "If we’re going to move forward, I need you to know there are things I can’t compromise on anymore."

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed slightly, his concern evident, but he nodded. "I’m listening," he said softly, leaning closer.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "I want my freedom," you said firmly, your voice carrying a weight that left no room for doubt. "I want to be free from my parents’ control. They’ve dictated so much of my life—how I should live, how I should act, even who I should marry. I can’t go back to that."

Seungcheol nodded slowly, his expression serious. "You won’t have to," he assured you. "I’ll make sure they understand that you’re your own person now. Whatever it takes, I’ll stand by you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you pressed on. "And also...," you said, your voice faltering for a moment. "I… I want to hear. I want to try to get my hearing back."

Seungcheol’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You mean… surgery?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while," you admitted. "Living in that village, teaching sign language to those kids… it made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. But more than that…" You paused, your voice breaking as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I want to hear you, Seungcheol. And I want to hear Doahn."

The raw emotion in your voice made Seungcheol’s chest tighten. He reached out, taking your hands in his. "Love," he said softly, his voice steady and full of warmth, "if that’s what you want, then we’ll make it happen. Whatever the cost, whatever the process, I’ll be with you every step of the way."

You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you at his unwavering support. "Thank you," you whispered, your fingers clutching his as though he was your lifeline.

Seungcheol smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You don’t have to thank me," he said. "This is your life, your choice. And I’ll do everything in my power to help you live it the way you want."

In that moment, you felt a surge of hope—hope for a future where you could finally take control of your own life, where you could experience the world in ways you’d only dreamed of. And with Seungcheol by your side, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

*

Months passed, and the promise of a new beginning grew stronger with each passing day. With Seungcheol’s unwavering support, you underwent the delicate surgery to restore your hearing—a decision that filled you with equal parts hope and fear. The process wasn’t easy; it was marked by long days of recovery, uncertainty, and moments of self-doubt. Yet, every time you felt like faltering, Seungcheol was there, holding your hand, his quiet reassurance anchoring you to the dream of what could be.

When the moment finally came, when you heard Doahn’s soft, melodic coos for the very first time and Seungcheol’s deep, steady voice calling your name, it was as if the world had burst into vibrant color. A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Doahn close to your chest, his tiny hands gripping your shirt.

"He sounds… perfect," you whispered, your voice trembling with wonder, every syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

Seungcheol knelt beside you, his gaze filled with warmth and relief. Resting his hand gently on your shoulder, he whispered, "Just like his mother." His voice, rich and tender, was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

With your hearing restored, the world transformed into a symphony of wonders. Every sound was a discovery—the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore, the laughter of children playing. Even the hum of the city streets, once distant and imagined, felt alive and vibrant. But nothing compared to the sound of Seungcheol’s laughter. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name made your heart swell, reminding you of how far you’d come together.

Seungcheol honored his promise to give you the freedom you craved. The chains of old expectations were broken, and you stepped into a new chapter of your life with a renewed sense of purpose. You found joy in teaching sign language, helping others rediscover their voices, and advocating for those who had been silenced by circumstance. Doahn grew up surrounded by unconditional love and support, his first words—soft and innocent—brought tears to everyone’s eyes, especially Seungcheol’s.

Though the scars of your past lingered, they no longer defined you. Instead, they became a testament to your resilience. Seungcheol, too, carried the weight of his guilt but turned it into strength. He made it his mission to make up for lost time, pouring his love into every moment he shared with you and Doahn.

One quiet evening, the three of you sat by the ocean, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and amber. Doahn toddled between you and Seungcheol, his giggles echoing like music against the gentle waves. You leaned into Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

"This is freedom," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with certainty and peace.

Seungcheol turned to you, his lips brushing your temple in a kiss as tender as his words. "And it’s just the beginning," he replied, his voice brimming with quiet determination and love.

In that moment, you knew that despite everything—the pain, the struggles, the loss—you had finally found your place in the world. A place where love, freedom, and hope could coexist, and where the future stretched out before you like the endless horizon.

*

The moon was about to cast its pale light on the quiet dock as you dragged Jihoon's limp, injured body toward the water. His breathing was shallow, labored, and each step you took felt heavier than the last. Blood seeped through his torn shirt, staining your hands as you struggled to pull him closer to the edge. He groaned, a faint sound of resistance, his body twitching in pain as he fought to stay conscious.

"Stop..." Jihoon rasped, his voice weak but filled with defiance. His head lolled to the side, his eyes flickering open to meet yours.

You crouched beside him, your breath coming in shallow pants. For a moment, you simply stared at him, the man whose vengeance had cost you so much. Despite his condition, Jihoon’s gaze burned with stubborn determination.

But you didn’t speak. Instead, you raised your hands, signing slowly and deliberately so he could follow your words.

“눈에는 눈, 이는 이로는 세상은 눈먼 자들로 가득 찰 것이다.” (An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.)

Jihoon’s brows furrowed as he struggled to focus on your hands, on the message you were conveying. His lips twitched, forming the faintest shadow of a bitter smile.

“Do you think…” he coughed, blood specking his lips, “… that this will change anything?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you signed again, your hands moving with precision, your expression unwavering.

“복수는 또 다른 상처를 남길 뿐이다. 넌 네 복수의 무게를 견딜 수 있겠어?” (Revenge only leaves another wound. Can you bear the weight of your vengeance?)

Jihoon’s head sank back, his strength waning as he closed his eyes. You could see the conflict in him—the doubt creeping into the cracks of his resolve. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, and for a moment, silence enveloped the dock, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the wood.

“You… don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t just revenge… It was justice.”

You shook your head, your hands signing one final phrase, your movements deliberate and steady.

“정의는 희생으로부터 나와야 한다, 증오가 아니라.” (Justice must come from sacrifice, not hatred.)

Jihoon’s eyes opened, tears brimming at the corners as he gazed at you, his face a mixture of pain and regret. The weight of your words—or perhaps the truth in them—seemed to settle on him like a crushing tide.

You stared down at him, your heart pounding. For a fleeting moment, your resolve wavered. Memories of the good times—of his laughter, his loyalty—flashed through your mind. But those moments were gone, drowned beneath the weight of his betrayal.

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you signed slowly, the finality in your movements echoing in the air between you.

Then, with a steady breath, you placed your hands on his shoulders and shoved.

Jihoon’s body slid across the wooden planks, his weak protests lost to the flow. The splash as he hit the water shattered the stillness, ripples spreading out in every direction.

You stood at the edge, watching as he sank beneath the surface. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the water settling, the ripples fading into stillness once more.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned away, the weight of your actions sinking in. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The dock felt endless as you walked away, the stars overhead offering no solace. Whether Jihoon would rise from the water or disappear into its depths was no longer your concern.

This was the end of the path you had both walked together—and the beginning of a new one, without him.

The end.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

[dixons-sunshine]

Together | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Daryl were thousands of miles away from your home. In an unknown country filled with new threats, you knew that you had to fight for your life—and hour unborn child’s. And you knew that you eventually had to tell Daryl about it, too.

Genre: Angst? Fluff? I don’t even know.

Era: France

Warnings: Swearing, canon typical violence, pregnancy, probably inaccuracies in this regarding the episode.

Word count: 1k

A/N: Requested by @holdmytesseract. This is the request you sent my way a long time ago lol. I hope you like this! Also, I’m sorry if this might be inaccurate regarding the episode. I haven’t watched it in a hot minute and did not have the time to watch it again, so I had to improvise on what I remembered.

Everything was happening so fast. One moment, you and Daryl were walking away from the monastery, your respective bags slung over your shoulders and well on your way to… you did not know, but you knew you were going away from the community of nuns. The next moment, you and Daryl were rushing back towards the very same community, weapons raised and helping to fight off the onslaught of bad people that had infiltrated their defences.

Admittedly, although you were focused on helping the nuns defend the only home they had left in the world run by the undead, your mind kept wandering back to the fact that you needed to take as little damage as possible. You could not get hurt. Not now, and not anytime in the near future. You could not risk it—your baby’s safety depended on it.

Your baby. Those words still felt so surreal for you to say. Under normal circumstances, you would have been over the moon with joy at the prospect of starting a family, but the realization had come at the worst of times. You were in a different country, thousands of miles away from your home and your family with seemingly no way of getting back, so the news did not exactly serve to make anyone feel better, and it would only ensure that more stress get placed on not only your shoulders, but Daryl’s as well.

It was your worry that had prohibited you from telling the crossbow-wielding archer of his impending fatherhood, and now you were in yet another life-threatening situation with no guarantees of survival. You promised yourself that if you lived through this, the first thing you would tell Daryl was that you were pregnant.

With your gun raised in front of you, sister Isabelle followed closely behind you as you rushed further into the garden. Your eyes momentarily found your husband’s figure fighting off one of the guys, and although your every instinct told you to go help him, you knew you couldn’t. Isabelle had asked you to help her ensure that Laurent stayed safe, and you were not one to unnecessarily endanger a child’s life.

“Where did you say you put him?!” you yelled to sister Isabelle over the deafening sounds of gun shots being fired, shooting an approaching walker in the head.

Isabelle pulled you aside to hide behind one of the walls when a bullet flew dangerously close to the two of you, her heart practically beating out of her chest. “Towards that building with that secret room where you and Daryl saw our weapons.”

“That’s on the other side of this place!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening as your mind scrambled to think of any sort of plan to get there.

However, your thoughts got cut off by the feeling of someone harshly gripping your shoulder and pulling you back. Unwillingly, a scream left your throat, one that got silenced when a blade got pushed against your neck.

The man’s breath fanned over your cheek, but his attention shifted away from you and towards Isabelle. “Try anything, and the bitch gets it,” he voiced in a thick French accent, deliberately speaking English so that you could understand him as well.

As quickly as the man got his grip on you, it fell away just as quickly. The knife fell from his hand and to the floor with a dull clink, and the man fell down to the floor, nearly taking you with him but you jumped forward just in time. You turned around and saw Daryl standing there, his cerulean eyes filled to the brim with both worry and rage.

You quickly turned around to look at Isabelle. However, you did not even have to say anything. She simply nodded at you, an understanding look in her eyes.

“I’ll go.” With that, she turned around and hurried away, leaving you alone with Daryl.

Daryl’s eyes locked with yours when you spun back around to gaze at him. He gently pulled you behind the wall to relative safety. “Are you—”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, taking both you and Daryl by surprise. You, because you had not intended to say that at that moment, and Daryl because he had not even known you were with child.

“What?” he asked, bewildered and taken off guard.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I was so scared of how you’d react. I just wanted to let you know in case something happened.”

Despite the shock still lingering, and the slight anger at the fact that you had kept it from him, he knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. And despite the situation you both were in, he could not help the small feeling of happiness at the news. However, there would be time to discuss everything later. Right now, his only concern was keeping you safe. His mind went into overdrive, and he was in full protective mode.

“Ain’t nothin’ gon’ happen to ya,” he spoke gruffly. He reloaded his gun and sent you a pointed look. “Stay close to me at all times, okay? We’re gettin’ outta this. You’re gonna be alright. M’gonna make sure of it.”

Despite the tenseness of your predicament, you managed to give him a small, genuine smile. You nodded and made sure to cock your own gun, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“Okay,” you replied softly.

Together, both you and Daryl braced yourselves to keep fighting back against the bad people. You both pushed through and rushed towards where you saw Laurent and Isabelle, and despite the fact that you were battling for your own survival, you felt oddly at peace.

This, you could do. Fighting for your life was not something new to you. You had done so against many forces, from the Governor, to the Terminus people, to Negan, the Whisperers and so many more. You would not go down easily.

And although you and Daryl had a lot to talk about, you knew that everything would work out in the end. It always did. Your love for Daryl was strong, and his love for you might even be stronger. The two of you would get through this, and you would do it together.

[editorandchief]

Hell Hath No Fury | Aemond Targaryen

Request: Yes

Summary: Aemond has become distant and you find out why.

Warning: blood, miscarriage, cheating, assault

Hell Hath No Fury Masterlist

You couldn't believe it.

He was the good brother, the dutiful son, the valiant knight... the faithful husband. There was no way that your Aemond wouldn't do this to you. 

This explains why he was traveling so often to Harrenhal away from you for so long when you needed him the most, you thought as you rubbed your swollen belly staring at the piece of paper in your hand. 

He had gotten that whore pregnant, and from the letter it seemed you two were both soon to give birth.  

Alys Rivers, the strong Bastard, the Witch...Yet another thing you two had in common, maybe your husband had a type.

This was it. the beginning of the end. If Alys Rivers gave birth to that child there is nothing that would stop her from coming to court, having her child legitimized, having Aemond take her as a mistress, bringing shame and embarrassment upon you and your child.

No.

"Push princess, push." The midwife needlessly instructed as someone wiped the sweat from your brow. 

"I do appreciate your help and respect and acknowledge that you have helped bring many royals into this world so please forgive me when I say, 'please shut the fuck up and let me concentrate." You yelled back as you took two deep breaths before closing your eyes and letting your head fall backwards. 

Opening your eyes again you see your in a hallway standing in front of a door, you can still hear the midwives telling you to push. placing your hand in the door you push it open slowly as you see the sight of Alys Rivers and Aemond in bed together. 

His arm is wrapped around her, as they are both naked it isn't hard to guess what it was that had made them so tired. Walking into the room you hear the door close behind you just as you stand right above them. As if sensing your presence Alys' eyes snap open and stare up at you. 

She opens her mouth to wake Aemond before you stop her. 

"Don't bother calling out, her can't hear us." You informed her reaching for his arm and throwing it away from her causing his to shift in his sleep and turn over. "No one can. From the look on your face I can tell you know exactly who I am, which is amusing considering I knew nothing of you a moon ago."

"I know this must be upsetti-."

"No! You don't because you are not his wife, you are not the one he married and swore loyalty to only to turn around and impregnate some whore." You sneered at her as she flinched back. "What was your plan? to take my husband, become and mistress, you seek to replace me and my child?" You asked as she simply shook her head in denial. 

"It was never meant to happen like this, but I love Aemond and he loves me, I'm sorry that you are hurt by this but that is the truth of it. I never thought I would be able to have children but this is a gift that Aemond has given to me and we both are thankful to be having it, but that does not mean he is any less thankful for your child and I promise you that I mean no harm to your life, marriage or the life of your child."  Alys rushed to explain. Taking a moment you look on at this women in bed with your husband and think of her words.

"Words....are not enough." You say before Alys' body is forced down into the bed. Leaning over her you pulled the sheets from her body exposing her milky skin to the cold air. 

"What are you doing?" Alys asked as she struggled against the invisible force. 

"Don't worry I am simply righting a wrong," You informed her as you pulled a knife from your dress. "The child that grows inside of you belongs to my husband"  You continue as you placed the blade to her belly.

"No! Please no." Alys pleads as she fight to get away from you. "I'm beg you please. I have wronged you I admit but my child is innocent, Aemond's child is innocent." 

"I know." You say before plunging the knife into her womb as she lets out a blood curtailing scream. Once the cut was made you reached inside of her wound ignoring the blood and cries of the women as you pull the child from her body. Cradling the child in your arm you softly coo to the child as Alys lets out another round of sobs. "Please do not morn for the child will live, but it will be birthed by me, as should all children of my husband." 

Turning and walking away the door slowly creaks back open allowing you to walk back into the hall. "Though I am very thankful for this gift you and my husband have given to me Alys, I trust it will be the last one" You say before the door closes once again. 

"Just one more push my princess." You left you head once again over come with the pain of child birth. "Here it comes." After one more push the room is filled with the cries of your child. 

"A prince, you have given birth to a prince." The midwife announced moving to retrieve a blanket for the newborn. She began to hand you your child before you leaned forward and let out a painful groan. "The afterbirth."

another midwife crouched between your leg as you groan in pain. "No there is a head, there is another babe." She informed sending the room into another round of panic as you were instructed again to push.

"Another prince." She soon declares as the second child begins to cry. 

 Cradling both babes in your arms you look down at the two clearly Targaryen princes with a small smile, Alicent entered the room quickly making it to your side "Aemon and  Armon." You names them as she looks to her grandchildren made my her favorite son. 

***

It had been three days since Aemond woke to Alys' screams, the sheets around her covered in blood as she cradled her stomach. The maesters said it was a miscarriage, but Alys insisted that it wasn't, when Aemond tried to comfort her she yelled for him to leave her and refused to be near him. After the second day of trying he chose to return to Kingslanding where is was notified that his wife had given birth to twin boys. 

Entering the chambers he sees his wife cooing at the two newborns laying on their bed. Turning towards your husband your eyes widen. "Aemond, I thought you were Beth to assist me with taking the twins to midday meal, the family wished to meet them." 

"Well I am sorry to disappoint you," Aemond teased walking closer to the bed. "But I promise I can try to be as good as Beth until she arrives." 

"Oh stop." You laughed a bit before letting out a sigh. "Actually I am glad that you are here, I wanted to speak with you."

"What is it you wish to speak of?" He asked rubbing his knuckle along Aemon's face.

"I know that this marriage started as an arrangement, but I understand that at the time we both believed that we become fond of each other and perhaps even love, and I thought that we had begun to share these feeling but I realize that I can not hold you to promises we made as children." You now had his full attention. "And if it is what you want, I will not fight you on seeking annulment."

"You have been distant and it was not until the twins were born that I realize just how distant you've become, we used to spend time together, reading, painting, laughing but I gave birth for the first time and my husband was not to be found." You explained. "I do not blame you for not returning my feeling or for pulling away but I can't live thinking that I'm driving you from your home or thinking that this distance between us will affect our children." 

"Please," Aemond says grabbing your hand and kneeling at your side. "Your feeling are returned I swear it to you, my distance is of no fault of your own."

"Then what is it?" You pleaded looking into his eyes. "I wish for you to be there for our children, for them to love and be moved by you. You once told me you didn't want to be like your father, I do not want this either."

Looking into your eyes Aemond knew he couldn't tell you the reason, he knew it would break your heart and he couldn't do that to you not after you had just given him two son, not ever. "It matters not, It will never happen again." He assures giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I will not be the father viserys was to me and I will not be the husband he was to my mother. You three are my life and I will spend every second to assure that you know it. 

"My princess It is time for your midday meal with your family." Beth informed entering the chambers.

"Thank you Beth would you please hold Aemon and I will take Armon you instruct as Aemond stands and helps you from the bed. Standing and walking towards the door you asked Beth to please walk ahead of you. "I thank you for hearing me Aemond and I do hope this isn't asking to much but I also must ask something else of you." 

Aemond nodded as he rubs his hand up and down your back in comfort. 

"I wish for this to be a pleasant occasion so I must ask you not fight with Jace and Luke, though it seems you have grown quite fond of Strong bastards as of late." You say before walking ahead leaving his frozen in the door way of the room.  

Part Two