#and everybodys looking for a wife for my brother | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminjamms · 7 months ago

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sex therapy :: 31. gangbangs

summary: a very self-indulgent chapter/pseudo-oneshot. **naoya’s ex-wife becomes toji’s girl. everybody wants a taste, and why not have the younger cousin watch the show?** alternatively, a gangbang with tattooed dilfs and dilf-adjacents.

chapter tags/warnings: five-some, gangbang, sex on tape, gun play (becoming a gun slut), cum play, breeding, creampies, exhibitionism, edging, degradation, praising, mentions of violence (murder, knives, guns), multiple orgasms.

word count: 5.5k

notes: happy kinktober and thank you for waiting! this started off as a concept (in my mind for a year-plus) and evolved into…a monster. too many men, too many hands, too many cocks. got lost in the sauce. despite being a smut chapter in a long fic, this update is borderline porn-without-plot. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“I love getting gangbanged."

Naoya woke up in a dark room and to a throbbing headache.

Where…?

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings slowly, blinking past his grogginess to register what almost looked like a crime movie’s interrogation room and groaning when the wrong angle to his head caused a sharp pain in his shoulder.

All around was an ominous and gloomy shade of gray—the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and heck even the door. How long had he been out for? Without windows, he could not take a wild guess at the time. Not to mention that the room also had no lighting, no pictures, and no décor.

Only him and this...random dinky chair he found himself tied up to.

Wait.

Tied up to?

Right. From what Naoya could last recall, he had been stopped by two men who took him out with a single strike.

In a vain attempt to set himself free, Naoya tugged at his limbs which were fastened behind him with sturdy cords. He twisted and turned, then twisted harder and turned even harder, until an unexpected voice startled him.

“You’re awake.”

Naoya went still.

Having zero visual stimuli sharpened Naoya’s other senses a little. He could feel the labored huffs in his breathing, hear the heavy footsteps that began in the chamber, and even taste the smoke that lingered in the hazy air.

Leering towards the door, Naoya quickly recognized his captors as they approached.

"Don’t give us that foul look, sleepyhead," the taller one whom he remembered as Eso announced as he slowly stopped in front of the scowling blonde. He had on him a wide and nefarious grin. "You had passed out for the last few hours. During that time, you could've been beaten. Or better yet, dead." He glanced up. "Right, Kechizu?"

His accomplice, who stopped on the opposite side, replied with a firm nod. From seemingly nowhere, he had pulled out a pocket knife and grazed the icy blade against Naoya's neck. "Ya feel that? I've been wanting to slit your throat, but I haven't. Lucky, lucky duck. Not everyone is this fortunate. All because our big bro Choso is being super nice to you."

Aware that a wrong move would cost him a jugular vein, Naoya listened intently. Since he worked with the other sex therapists before, he indeed recalled how his former colleague led a tightly-knit assassin ring, in which the members deemed each other 'brothers.'

Kechizu prodded Naoya again with his blade. "Big bro's the only reason you're still alive. Although, I don't know why you'd want to still be breathing now that the whole world knows you've been bumping uglies with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Eso hummed in agreement. "Well, at least for now," he began and he gestured around in vague motions, “you're already in paradise!” Then, he paused. “Well, correction. Here is where we send people to paradise. Or, more likely, hell.”

Noticing how Naoya uncharacteristically froze, the two snickered. In fact, they likely would've continued snickering if not for a shrill tone that pierced the air. The laughter stopped.

Eso's charcoal eyes flicked downwards.

"Left pocket, Kechizu."

The other man obeyed, lowering his knife (and thus giving Naoya an actual chance to breathe) before grabbing the phone from Naoya's blazer. A notification lit up the screen—a message, from you.

“She sent a video.”

Eso and Kechizu intentionally held the screen away, and their face quickly lit up with a sinister smile when they previewed the file. “Oh, yeah. Let's watch.”

“Come join us, sweetheart.”

You thought you were discreet.

Lingering at the doorway, you had been peering into the Zenin Corporation’s CEO Suite like a lost duck. This past afternoon, news about the leadership changes within Japan’s largest conglomerate had spread like wildfire across business and politics networks across the globe, announcing that Naoya Zenin had been forced to resign with Toji Fushiguro reclaiming his position as head of the company.

For the latter, you had questions—many questions. However, an inundated Toji was difficult to approach as he spent his entire afternoon in the office with his also-reinstated directors Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. From your observations, the men had been milling around the table, speaking to each other in hushed but decisive voices in conversations that must remind them of their days managing the Zenin Corporation before Naoya’s takeover.

They all appeared ridiculously handsome with their expensive custom-tailored suits that emphasized their muscular physiques and complemented their towering heights. Surrounded by legal documents and business reports, they carried themselves differently, too. More mature, organized, and serious, especially after hectic meetings with the Chairman Naobito Zenin, your COO father, and internal and external stakeholders had left etches on their calculating faces.

Now, however, Toji Fushiguro had caught sight of your quivering form at the entrance, and soon enough, all eyes turned to you. When you didn’t respond to his first invitation, the executive approached you in confident strides.

“Why do you look so shy?”

At the unanticipated attention, you averted your gaze onto the floor and tried to slink away into the hall slowly. “You all seemed occupied, and I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You're not interrupting anything," he clarified. "We have some time now.”

He tugged your wrist softly, which was all that you needed to follow him like a fawn into the room and crumble onto his lap once he sat down. Despite his dress pants, the warmth from his thighs heated your skin, and Toji nuzzled his face into your neck. His gravelly huffs sounded like all the other times you had heard him rasp, moments followed by endless endearment.

"About Naoya," the older man brought up from seemingly nowhere. You tensed at the name while Toji's cordial lips assuaged you. "Choso’s brothers are making sure he’s not going to do anything funny. We can't have him around as we are transitioning the company. As for you...knowing my cousin, he's going to keep claiming you as his property unless you get through his dense head," and his viridescent pupils flicked upward, "and the only way to do that is to show him.”

Although you didn’t know exactly what he meant, Toji hoisted you in one fluid motion onto his desk and sprawled you across the surface. He pushed your thighs apart, prompting sharp breaths that echoed in the room as onlookers raked their eyes down your figure. Some (namely, Sukuna and Geto) peered down shamelessly, while others (just Choso, really) tried to come off as cool and observed quietly. Nonetheless, the message in their perverted gazes was clear: what they wouldn't give to kiss you, bite you, and mark you right then and there.

Just as you shrank a little from the overwhelming attention, Toji reached for your phone and pressed the device firmly into your palm.

“Let’s send him a message.” Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and sharp.

You blinked, raising an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Leaning forward, Toji offered a clear view of the ink scrolling down his neck, his exhales warm against the beading cold sweat on your forehead. “Open up the camera. Let's send Naoya Zenin a surprise.” He gently pinched you. "Like I said, that idiot wouldn't understand shit unless you slam the idea into his dumb skull.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the phone in your hand.

“A photo won't be enough, by the way. We need a video. He won't get the fucking idea unless he sees and hears the proof.” When you complied, Toji turned to the colleague closest to him. "Wanna do the honors, Suguru?"

The said man came forward eagerly, the obsidian in his eyes sparkling. "'No' is never my answer to you, sir." Given your compromising position, he had the easy option to tear your lacy panties and stuff himself into your core except he wanted to take his time.

"I heard a lot about you." His compliments were all purrs that sent hot shivers shooting through your veins. "Mind if I take a go at you, too?"

After being passed between his three other colleagues, you must admit that you had at least thought about what sex with Geto was like, too. "Please."

At the permission, the man smiled and bunched your underwear to one side. The cold air hitting your drenched cunt made you shiver, but the collective groan in the room rumbled even louder, a reminder of the many men around you. Men who were being patient for you. Men who could not stop thinking about you. Men who, because of your ex-husband, had been holding grudges against you.

Geto pulled down his boxers just until the waistband fitted snugly under his balls. His cock stood proud with precum dribbling down his length as he positioned himself in the comfy spot between your thighs. He pressed against the table until his knuckles turned white, aligning himself with your entrance.

Without extra stimulation, your saturated folds welcomed him easily and you gasped loudly at the intrusion.

"Shit, you’re soaking," Geto sighed softly as you clenched around him, swarming his veins with gratification. He tipped his head forward, his loose strands framing his face. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He was so sweet, so kind. You nodded and hazily recognized that this was what making love was supposed to feel like: tender, gentle, and loving. This was Suguru Geto's charm.

Before you could say more, an opportunistic Sukuna took his place above you. He moved quickly, undoing his belt and tugging hastily at his trousers, humming loudly with relief when he pulled his pants down and his massive cock sprang free. Despite being jostled by another man, you swabbed at the bubbling precum before pushing your thumb into your mouth, relishing his clean and salty tinge on your tongue.

Amused, Sukuna chuckled darkly. "What a fucking tease," he crowed, then patting your cheek. "C'mon. Open up, baby. Let me get to the back of your throat."

With little resistance, he popped your jaw open and sank his massive girth into your mouth. Gradually, you bobbed your head back and forth, letting your tongue lick every millimeter to him. He, likewise, pushed his hips forward, bringing your nose flushed against his well-trimmed patch of pink hair. He plucked the recording phone from your hands, and you sensed him tapping on the screen to focus on the erotic display where your bodies connected, your sinful lips accepting his fat cock with ease.

"You are such a good girl." Sukuna Ryomen confirmed, his movements mind-numbing as though he wanted to breed your esophagus. He wrapped a hand around your windpipe, constricting your airflow and causing you to gag. "Brat looks like a goddamn goddess sucking dick. Isn't that right, Choso?"

No response.

Curious, your pupils rolled to the side.

The assassin's the man you feared the most.

He was quiet, always guarded, his mysterious eyes pulling you in like two black holes. You could never know what he’s thinking about, although you lucidly remember his crooked obsession with 'disciplining' you.

"Hey, honey.” Geto's deft fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to return to him. “Pay attention to us, m'kay?"

You hummed in response, Sukuna’s dick still bulging visibly in your throat.

"I don’t want you to lose focus," an overly aroused Suguru went on to explain. He breathed heavily. Shaking. Or maybe that was you? He clutched your love handles harshly before he pulled out and stepped to the side, making you stroke himself with your delicate hands instead. Briefly, you assumed that Geto preferred handjobs and wanted to ejaculate onto your breasts, only to get your answer when your puffy clit came into contact with the sharp coolness from…metal?

"Choso," Toji's harsh voice warned.

Brought back to your senses, you looked down to see Choso using the fluids to lubricate...his gun. You recognized the weapon, the same one you had seen in his car. The same one he would use to kill. All air in your lungs left swiftly. What the actual fuck. Sheer mortification was the only reason you didn't have the guts to do anything (because, if Choso became irritated enough, he could pull the trigger and then you would have no guts at all), and your silence only gave him a reason to continue defiling you into his personal gun slut.

He stared at his boss with an unperturbed frown. "You know I like her too much to hurt her."

A squeal tumbled past your lips when the pistol's freezing barrel pressed past your tight hole. Although you partially expected Toji to warn the weapon-wielding man again, Toji instead leaned forward in his chair, jaw resting on his fist. He could seem more concerned, but the mirthful glimmer in his emerald eyes said otherwise.

Meanwhile, Choso's piercing gaze alone made you sweaty, your forehead turned glossy with a sheen. He lazily massaged your inner walls, your warm arousal coating his cool metal before leaking onto the table, the only struggle now was how your body involuntarily twitched. To your fascination (and horror), pleasure began to build with each too-hard pass of his barrel. There were just too many sensations going on. Messy mouth deepthroating one cock, slicked hands stroking another, and sloppy cunt taking in a gun. You did your best to give everybody equal attention because you were a desperate crowd-pleaser, not wanting anyone to feel left out.

With your back arched from the table, you became increasingly frantic, demonstrating through feverish movements that all you were was their obedient little bitch. All these hands on your body, skin on your skin. You felt them all, the senses exhilarating and fascinating.

Toji sternly interrupted from seemingly nowhere. “I can tell from your movements that you want to cum, don’t you?” Maybe, but you were too overwhelmed to focus solely on your pleasure. Nothing that your therapists couldn't help with. Leaning over, Toji snaked an arm around your body to press tight circles at your engorged clit. "Be selfish for a little bit," he coaxed. "Cum for us."

His permission sent you immediately vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as an orgasm tore through you. Your lips parted, but you didn't scream. Your eyes shut slowly and rolled to the back of your head as every millimeter in your fragile body unraveled completely—fluttering, cramping, and shuddering.

Your ears became blessed with chorused laughter and praise.

Choso inspected your copious juices that suddenly coated his gun, a translucent thread trailing from the barrel to your now-exposed cunt. Reaching over, Sukuna wrapped his hand around Choso's forearm. He leaned into the pistol and parted his lips, swirling his tongue slowly around the barrel. His maroon eyes were half-lidded, giving him an almost lazy yet focused look as he dragged his tongue along the metal, lapping up your precious essences—the syrups rich and just a bit tangy. Drooling and sucking like a little kid with a lollipop, Sukuna didn't care that his spit trailed from the metal down to the other man's wrist and flipped the camera to selfie mode to capture the action.

Towards the end, his tongue swiped over his lips, leaving a luster from your elixir that coated his mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

After another generous lick, he swished the concoction in his mouth before pinching your chin, and your mouth propped open. Pleased, he hummed when you stuck your tongue out, showcasing just how naughty you were. He drooled the spittle into your mouth, the saline taste blossoming on your taste buds, a thread of spit connecting your chin and his.

"Sharing," Sukuna chuckled darkly into your phone's microphone, "is absolutely fucking caring."

Nearby, Suguru groaned. He hurriedly clambered to the comfy space between your plush thighs, shoving a grumbling Choso aside. "I'm so fucking close."

He buried his dick into your tunnel, the veins on his cock pulsating. Call him selfish or masochistic, but as much as he wanted to reach his high, Geto denied his orgasm to stay longer inside and prevented himself from fucking bursting.

“Don't hold back, Suguru,” you urged.

Geto furrowed his brows, sweat gathering on his forehead as he tried his best to hold out. He admitted earnestly, "I don't want to give you up, baby.”

“I want you to cum,” you said, all whiny with puppy eyes. Free hand slithering down, you cupped his aching balls and gently squeezed his heavy testes. "Besides,” you glanced over at the camera, “show Naoya how you can breed me…daddy."

Sugaru’s eyes widened at the unexpected nickname that he loved so much. That’s it. He’s done for. His handsome features crumpled from an over-the-top pleasure as he gave his snapping hips one final push and pumped you full, coating your cervix white with his thick essence as he rested his head against your forehed, panting into your ear and moaning into your skin.

Pressing one last kiss on your cheekbone, he pulled himself out of your hot cunt, allowing others to have their way with you.

Sukuna got behind you eagerly. He repositioned your shaking body, his calloused hands tossing you over and leaving you panting on your hands and knees. His harsh squeeze at your sides made you squeal just as he pulled your legs apart for easier access, exposing your cute hole.

"Shit, she's making a mess, dripping onto the desk." The same desk that belonged to Naoya merely several hours ago. Adjusting your phone camera, Sukuna thumbed through your folds like they were pages in a book, scoffing at the viscous dallops that slid out. The tattoos on his wrists gleamed pitch black under the glossy mixed juices.

"Suguru's cock did you well, but this pretty lady isn't finished yet, eh? She can take more. I know she can." His hands weaved into your hair and tugged harshly. "Tell us, missy. You can handle more, correct?"

The threat in his menacing tone only suggested there was one answer. You whimpered pathetically, "Yes."

With a crooked smile, Sukuna pressed his muscular form against your back. That man was starving. After all, he had been waiting to have your pussy properly wrapped around his painful erection when he could've greedily taken you for himself first.

"Stop moving so I can angle myself correctly," Sukuna reprimanded when you wobbled on all fours.

Hardly any time was given to let you register the warning before the man plunged into your sensitive socket. He ignored your desperate wail, amazed at how he plugged you all the way. His pace started off sensual and languid. Each snug press against your battered cervix at first made you squeak, but you became too far caught up in the moment that the discomfort disappeared as promptly as the sensation came.

"Mhm," Sukuna hummed, a squelch ringing through the room each time he would bottom out. He didn't need to say anything for him to feel how wet you were, fluids trickling out from your puffy hole and creating what looked like the Nile River running down your thighs.

"Holy fuck," Choso swore to the side, his emotions a rare display.

Blissful waves rushed to your head, one after another. Arousal flooded into your tummy, your cunt twitching uncontrollably as a second climax started to sneak up on you.

Sukuna groaned—or at least attempted to groan—through the exertion of his forceful movements. How he had missed playing with you. A few trickles of sweat on his forehead glided over the ink on his forehead before dripping onto your back. He pumped himself faster, his balls smacking against your clit harder—savoring how you squirmed underneath his direct influence.

He could not resist peering down at the sacred space where your bodies connected and ensured that the camera, too, had an unobscured view. The problem was he had become so agonizingly turned on that his hold on your phone began shaking. He rasped, back straightening. “Goddamn, your cunny does me good.”

Not long after, he reached his release snarling and grunting like a dog as white ropes shot from his cock and into your uterus, with him nearly dropping your device onto your ass from his sheer ecstasy.

"No!" you protested loudly when Sukuna pulled out abruptly, hissing as your empty hole clenched around nothing. "I..." You balled your fists, thumping the desk in frustration. "I was so fucking close."

"Don't worry." The strawberry-haired man tenderly brushed away the tears by your jaw. Like he hoped to comfort you somehow. "Nothing Choso can't help with. He'll take great care of you." He looked over at the said colleague. “Isn’t that right?”

Gulping, you followed his gaze to the other man who had stopped behind you.

"You look nervous," Choso commented matter-of-factly. "Why?"

As if he didn’t already know the answer. You rolled your eyes and snorted like a true brat, indeed. "None of your business."

Besides, you had enough encounters with Choso Kamo, each incident more indecent than the last. This time, he naturally noticed your eyes drift to the gun tucked into his back pocket, the saps from earlier creating an ample moist patch on his pants.

“So, tell me, bimbo," Choso spoke again. He didn't care to announce himself as he unbuckled and pressed in, stretching you with his thickness, aided by your copious reserve containing both arousal and cum, hitting that sweet spot that he had no problem finding over and over. "Did you think I had been done with you already?"

Holding in whimpers from his repeated thrusts, you let out a soft groan.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

“But, do you want me?”

Silence.

“I am not going to repeat my—”

"I want you s’ badly..."

A demon must have possessed you. There was no other way to explain yourself. But those remarks were all Choso needed before he began to move impossibly fast within you. He didn’t care that he pounded into you like a beast, creating a commotion that perhaps the floor below could hear your wetness reverberate around the room.

"This is for being a fucking tease." Choso raised his hand high and then delivered an unforgiving blow against your ass. Unprepared, you yelped from the sheer force, which had been enough to leave a handprint on your unblemished cheeks.

"I didn't—!" Your attempt to defend proved futile as Choso spanked you again with little regard for your feelings.

"This is for giving me an attitude," he continued, gruff. And again. "For forgetting how to behave, shit." And again, and again, and again. For this, for that, his listed grievances going on and on and on, his punishments making you cry and squirm and wail.

Choso knew he was selfish. If his boss Toji wasn't involved, he would want nothing more than to keep you forever, making you his little gun slut and teaching you to cum all over him. He couldn’t help it. As if the roles were reversed. Like he was the inexperienced one, unaware of his partner's feelings and only caring for his pleasure. He remained relentless as he continued his abuse, the tendons along his hands and arms flexing with his efforts, like the crazed killer he was being out for blood.

The distressed expression written all over your face only made him want to go harder. He loved making it hurt, his sadistic personality entirely to blame. With every pump, his testes smacked onto your clit repeatedly, feeling him sink deeper and deeper inside.

“F-Fuck—S’ too much, Choso!” A sob wracked your trembling figure amidst his assault. In distress, you tugged at his wrists to get him to ease up on you. That didn't matter. He was too strong, especially when compared to you.

"I thought you wanted to cum."

"I do!" But you didn't think you would be able to cum like this. "This...This is too painful!"

As if he cared.

"Oh, please," Choso scoffed, even rolling his inky eyes in dismissal. "This isn't painful. You're just being dramatic. If you think this is painful...how do you think I felt, hm? Watching Geto and Sukuna take turns defiling you. Hearing you blubber their names without shame. Did you think that I—with my cock stiff in my pants—that I didn't feel pain? Listen to yourself. God, turns out you're just another selfish slut."

Scorching tears streamed down your face, and you searched around desperately.

"No one here's going to save you," Choso announced, reading right through you. He pressed his face against your earlobe, a hot puff of air fanning out across your delicate skin. "Because it's too obvious. You fucking like this, pup."

Did you?

Even if that wasn't the case, you guess you did now, the unwavering conviction in Choso's tone spurring a change of heart. It’s sick, you realized, he’s manipulating me.

Yet, sure enough, you soon started to feel lighter, giddier. Your pupils dilated from stimulation and your muscles tingled with excitement. Choso felt so good. You felt so good, and the coil from deep within your cervix compressed tighter and tighter as a pressure built from within.

"I'm close...again." This time, it's a little embarrassing to admit, especially when you were complaining like a puppy just minutes ago.

"What did I tell you, pet," Choso growled, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a rare grin. He made you feel glorious. Consequently, you writhed underneath his body, fully submissive under his control. You wanted nothing more than to be a pliant baby girl for him, let him use you in any way he wants. "Cum and squeeze my cock."

“Make me.”

“Oh?”

One final blow to your ass was what hurled your body over the edge.

“I—” you choked on your spit. "I'm coming!"

You shrieked the moment you felt your body disintegrate, your shoulder blades caving in as sweat fell like raindrops from your skin. Elbows giving up, your head hit the table, leaving your temples pulsing with dizziness, bliss, and pain; your eyes staring at the wood finishing; your chest rising up and down, exasperated from the intensity of your release.

And oh, your pussy squeezed Choso good. Before he could hold himself back, Choso dug his nails into your ass. "Fuck, you are incredible," was the last thing he muttered before he came as well in one long grunt, splattering your womb with his creamy semen. He made you tremble when he pulled out, releasing the mess inside and leaving you feeling oddly empty and cold. Glob after glob of cum oozed out, semen from multiple perpetrators painting over your labia, which made the surrounding men grin at the sight, knowing that you held all their seed inside.

Nothing except their breeding hole, that was what you had become. There was something they adored about labeling you as their personal whore.

Not long afterward, a warm hand took yours into his own. Toji caressed the skin of your palm before pulling you right onto his lap again. In the end, he was whom you belonged to. If anybody wanted to do anything to you, they had to talk to him first.

Toji helped you straddle him, tucking one leg onto his either side, except you were so fucked out that you didn’t know who you were or where you were from.

"C'mon, honey. Don't lose yourself just yet," he murmured gently, brushing a few free strands from your forehead. Otherwise, you would've gone limp and lost all senses completely.

Toji had been waiting for you. He considered this a sign of his maturity, allowing the younger and more impatient men to make a mess with you first. Now, though, was his turn, fair and square.

His exposed length pressed up against his abdomen with fantastic girth and length such that—despite your current state—your pupils went heart-eyed and your mouth drooled from sight alone. He loved when you made that expression, one he had seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality. He chortled at your sharp gasps, finding you adorable even after being stuffed by several men.

However, just when you didn't think you could handle more, his red-flushed head brushed over your clit and jolted your veins with the familiar wave of arousal. You shifted, the sticky mess between your legs uncomfortable. In a brief moment of lucidity, you had an epiphany. With one hand resting on Toji's shoulder, you reached down with the other to spread your folds, biting your lip as you clamped down on your sensitive walls hard.

Sure enough, a generous amount of cum trickled out of your used cunt, oozing onto Toji’s cockhead and sliding down gradually to his balls.

"Holy shit."

Eyes grew wide with surprise, jaws dropped in reaction to your nasty actions. Since when did you learn to become so dirty? Flushed cheeks betrayed their interest as they continued their lustful staring. Generous was what you were, letting them ogle like schoolchildren for a few moments longer before you scooped up the slick and began to suck on your fingers. Softly, you hummed at the succulent flavors concocted by you, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso combined.

"Next up is you."

“So fuckin’ filthy," Toji praised with utter adoration.

As you continued, you made sure not to break eye contact as you subtly rutted your sopping cunt against his tip. You coyly batted your long lashes in his direction, making sure he could feel the liquids running down his cock and the throbbing pussy that awaited him.

You smiled. "All yours, Dr. Fushiguro."

He suddenly grew smitten at how polite you could be, and using his hands as a guide, he helped you sink into him slowly. “Goddamn.” The sound that emerged from him was wholly obscene, a carnal desperation only matched by your movements, your thighs constricting his hips and your eyes rolling backward. How cozy, you discovered yourself to be, snug at his hilt. Toji had filled you all the way but a few centimeters of his cock remain, his tip already kissing against your spent uterus.

Something about knowing that his little cousin would watch this made Toji want to do everything to push deeper into you. He started by rocking your waist against a rhythm, and a near-pornographic mewl escaped your lips when his shaft ran over an especially sensitive spot, the ridges rubbing against your cavern and sending pleasure through your every limb. He hummed at the way you squealed and loved how expressive you were with your body and feelings.

His tongue laved across your shoulder before stopping over your collarbone. "You'll still go back to Naoya after this?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled with sincerity. "I would hate myself if I did."

“Excellent,” he slurred, his spit drooling down your back from where his mouth had latched onto your neck. “That’s…exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

Baby. Your eyes squeezed shut, responding with a whine. Although the overstimulation was originally uncomfortable, you began to feel satisfaction cut through the soreness once again as your body prepared for one more climax. You rocked your hips in need, like an animal in heat, a sight that would certainly drive your ex-husband crazy. “F-Feels,” you paused to pant, “Feels good.”

“Fuck.” Toji gritted out, breaking through his cacophony of crude moaning and effectively searing your skin. He continued steering your body in the rhythm he learned you liked, his nails nearly piercing your skin despite their bluntness. He cupped your jaw harshly. “What are you to us, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You laughed a little, clearly delirious, and then replied. “'M your cumdump.”

“Say that again.”

“I—”

“Louder.” The emeralds in his heavy-lidded eyes skated briefly to the phone. “I want everyone to hear.”

So, you mustered all your energy to give your final answer—and the correct answer. "I am your cum dumpster!"

Toji started saying something, chuckling maybe, but his words weren’t clear even as he tossed his head back. His breathing was deep, wet, and sexy, and he was no doubt blistering hot in his business blazer, his slicked-back hair soaked with sweat and hanging limply in front of his flushed face. His expression, on the other hand, was what got you the most; his eyes drawn shut, his brows slightly pinched, his mouth just barely parted.

He panted, raising his head to lock lips with yours, moaning into your mouth lewdly before pulling back, and admiring your fucked out expression, face heated and sweating.

“Shit, you’re too good to me,” was the last thing Toji sighed before he added to your womb with his hot cum, his grip on your body tightening as his balls twitched and lodged his precious seed into the sacred cavern. Pussy clamping down, you milked him, not willing to let a single drop go to waste, gasping when the explosive warmth made you shatter with him, leaving you hiccuping and spasming until you were just jolting and crying out from the stretched muscles in your body.

Overheated, you slumped forward. Sweat rolled uncomfortably down your back, spit smeared across your neck and shoulders and chin.

But you looked up and giggled at your latest discovery.

“I love getting gangbanged."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I spent way more time preparing this chapter than I expected, writing, rewriting, and editing. Adding, shortening, then adding again. (At some point, this was nearly 7K words.) This is far from perfect, but I must relinquish myself. Thank you again for reading!

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eraenaa · 1 year ago

Text

Gold Rush

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Jealousy ¿Simp Aemond?, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, P in V sex, Face Sitting, Not Proofread

Word Count: 7, 912 (I may have overindulged)

Beauty worth their weight in gold, and it’s the greatest blessing from the gods that you have both. The only child of Lord Lannister. Spoiled and sheltered, you had never known hardships or troubles. Pampered in the halls of Casterly Rock or anywhere you go. You leave a trail of mystification, enchantment, and adoration. Suitors line up and beg to pay you tribute. Songs and sonnets are made just to entertain and encapsulate the beauty and purity you have for centuries to come. Commoners and Lords offer their lands, riches, and allegiance just to have your hand, and now, a certain prince dared to join.

When the words slipped out of your uncle’s lips that you should join your father in his visit to the capital, the Red Keep was abuzz with curiosity. The Golden Beauty of the realm shall grace their presence. They shall finally see and admire the being that has been coveted and praised for years. Prince Aegon was excited, to say in the least. He has been curious and titillated by your said charms ever since poets decided to write nothing about the allure and trance you placed upon men by just one look of your emerald eyes. His brother found it as a hoax. He frowned at how they exalt your name and praise you as if you were The Maiden Herself when, in reality, they only read or hear of you. He would scoff to himself every time his brother would reread the songs made in your name. He would roll his eye every time he heard gossip and talk about you from the maids and knights. He was certain that this popularity and recognition had only made you egotistical and vain— a judgment made and solidified in him despite not having known or met you.

When the day of your arrival came, his older brother was the first to greet you, whilst Prince Aemond stood by the window and watched from afar. He frowned upon Aegon’s actions greatly, paying recognition to a girl whilst ignoring his wife, but alas, his brother could not be reasoned to nor be persuaded to do his duty. Aegon was always easily swayed and distracted by a pretty face, and with beauty such as yours, the queen’s first son had turned simple. Aemond rolled his eye as he stood by the balcony, watching his brother tour you through the gardens. Aegon displayed a beaming smile and an odd blush on his face as if he were the maiden and not yourself. You simply kept a small, pleasing grin on your lips as the eldest prince kept on speaking and offering you flattery and compliments, trying to ignore the feeling of a gaze following you ever since you entered the palace walls.

You set your gaze above, catching the lone lilac eye of a second silver prince. You held his gaze, which showed contempt and agitation you did not know the reason for. When Prince Aegon had noticed your attention had shifted, he cast his eyes above only to see his brother with his brooding demeanor, almost scowling at the two of you. “That is only my bitter brother, Aemond. Pay him no mind, my lady,” Prince Aegon stated and offered his arm for you to take. Your eyes shifted between the two princes, quickly curtsying towards the one who stood above and the took hold of his brother’s arm before he hurriedly escorted you out of sight of the younger prince.

You were soon introduced to the princess, the wife of the elder prince. The princess’ presence you then favored instead of her husband, who had a gown quite… touchy and clingy. You stood next to the princess, who introduced you to her adorable children, babes tugging at the hem of your gown and pleading with you with their big violet eyes to carry them. Your heart grew soft and took the little Prince Maelor into your arms, smiling widely as the babe clung to your neck and buried his adorable face into your hair. “My son has taken quite a liking to you… he is most fastidious to other’s presence, my lady,” The princess smiled. “He is simply adorable, Your Highness,” You say and brush the silver hair of the babe. “He is… he quite reminds me of my younger brother when we were children,” The princess mused, her voice afar with nostalgia.

“Have you been introduced?” The princess then asked, “To whom?” You inquired, distracted by the babe who shifted in your arms. “To—Ah, Aemond! We were just talking about you,” the princess then exclaimed, the silver prince standing by the door. You turned your gaze to the prince you had not been introduced to yet formally. “Lady Lannister, my brother, Aemond,” The princess introduced, and you curtsied since more at the one-eyed prince while having his nephew in his arms. You hindered your frown as he said no word, only simply giving a nod and the action of his lips thinning.

“I was just telling Lady Lannister how much Maelor resembles you when we were younger,” the princess smiled. You turned to the prince, who tried to give his sister a small smile but looked more like a grimace. “The young prince is quite charming,” You smiled and turned to the prince, who stood before you, stiff and brooding. Aemond clenched his jaw as his eye caught yours once more; you are not at all chaste nor demure in the presence of royalty as any young lady should ought to be. You were perfectly comfortable taking a member of the royal family into your arms as if you were equal in rank. Aemond seemed to stand uncorrected with his early judgment of you.

“She is quite handsome… I always thought the songs they made were an exaggeration, but it seems to not do her justice,” Aemond heard his mother whisper to his sister, quite entranced by your beauty, and it would seem as would everyone present at the dinner table. Princess Helaena generously invited you to their intimate family dinner. His hand clenched around his chalice of wine as his brother shamelessly leaned closer to you and whispered something in your ear to cause a sweet, amused smile to play on your lips. “Are you not bothered by this?” Aemond could not help but as his sister. “About about what, brother?” Helaena asked, clueless and concerned by the agitated state of her younger brother.

“Lady Lannister, we are most glad that you are finally here to accompany your father,” the queen said, not allowing Aemond to answer his sister’s query. “Thank you, your Majesty. You have all been so welcoming to my presence.” You smiled and could not help but let your gaze travel to the one-eyed prince, whose contempt had been nothing but plain and quite obvious. “Of course, the golden beauty of the realm is most welcome here indeed,” Aegon then chimed in. “But may I ask why it is only now that you join your father to the capitol?” The queen inquired; your gaze flew around the table, eyes expecting your answer, except for the lilac gaze of the younger prince, who stared steely and harshly at his plate. “Oh… it is because my father and uncle wishes for me to be acquainted with the court… for they are planning for me to marry soon, your Grace,” You said truthfully. That is when you feel a lone eye finally place itself upon your frame.

The queen hummed and looked not at all shocked by your admittance; her children, however, shared different expressions from what you could read. The princess simply nodded with a ghost of a smile on her lips. The prince beside you seemed surprised and, dare you say, disappointed by your purpose of coming. And the prince across from you seemed… you could not decipher his reaction through his hard gaze.

When morning came, you were pleased to receive an invitation from the princess to join her in the gardens to break your fast. You followed a squire, and you were led to a table surrounded by flowers and greenery, three children of the crown waiting for you. A pleasing princess and her brothers, one stoic, the other drunken. “Good morning, Your Highnesses,” You greeted and bowed, surprised as the young prince stood and matched your curtsy, moving to assist you to assist you to a seat across from him. You try not to over-analyze his actions; just hours before, he seemed disinterested in you— animosity was heavy around him. However, now, there seemed to be an air of civility surrounding him.

“What are your engagements today, my lady?” Princess Helaena asked as she sipped on her tea, you stirred yours and replied. “My father was planning to introduce me to some of the members of the court,” You say and turn to acquire the last piece of candied lemon. “Some suitors?” The princess asked, her brothers not at all joining in the conversation, merely sitting around the two of you as if they were dolls. “I am not quite certain, princess,” You say and let your gaze travel to Prince Aemond, who stared at the candied lemon on your plate.

“Do you have a favorite among them?” Prince Aegon then inquired; you frowned at his question. “I beg your pardon?” You asked for clarification. “Does any of your suitors hold great favor with you?” He said and took a chalice into his hand so early in the morning. “I have still yet to meet them, my prince… but I was told that Lord Arryn’s son was quite handsome, and many ladies of the court seem to favor him,” You answered but was turned to the princess, the topic seemingly more appropriate for the two of you. “Ah, yes, handsome Lord Henry,” Princess Helaena said in recognition, “It is true that he is comely. However, I heard he is one to wander,” The princess said delicately. Confusion painted your face once more, and it was the second prince who clarified,

“Lord Henry is quietly known for his depravity,” Prince Aemond said, making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like our brother Aegon,” he added, smirking as that earned a giggle from his sister. “I think it would best if you stay far from the son of Lord Arryn,” The princess said, and you nodded along.

You spent the day being introduced to Lords and Ladies of the Court, but more specifically, their sons. You felt the constant drone of a gaze following you as you conversed with the prospects of your hand. Their faces seemingly merged, and their names eluded you, so you could only offer them your pleasing smile and mindless small talk and keep your hand on their arm.

“Do you not have to train, brother?” Helaena then appeared beside Aemond, who was hidden behind a pillar, as he observed you being acquainted with the eligible sons of the court. Helaena held a cheeky smile as she caught his brother’s actions. You had only arrived yesterday, and the princess was already certain that you had caught the attention of her enigmatic brother. It was plain to her the attraction and curiosity Aemond harbored for the golden beauty of the realm, even long before you arrived. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would scoff when his eye would catch anyone reading a pamphlet containing the written songs in your name. Still, Helaena noted that he was the first one to acquire the said pamphlets, religiously reading them until Aegon caught wind of a lioness whose beauty was hidden in Casterly Rock. As a result, the one-eyed prince hindered himself from admitting that he and his brother were attracted to the same girl. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would roll his eye in annoyance whenever he heard gossip about you in the halls, yet he still stayed and listened to all of them.

“Should you not be joining the line of her suitors?” Helaena teased, amused by the way her brother’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Helaena waited for his reply, but none came. It was a rare occurrence for Aemond to not find words. “I shall see you at supper, sister,” Aemond gritted and walked off, leaving Princess Helaena amused and with new ammunition to lovingly tease her brother.

Supper came, and to Aemond’s displeasure or satisfaction, you were there. Seated next to his sister, whispering and giggling as if you were the oldest friends when, in reality, you had only waltzed into their life just the other day. He supposed that he should find joy that his sister had finally befriended someone, but must it be you?

Must it be you who had to join them in supper and be in his constant presence? Seducing and tempting him even though you merely just sat there— making him question himself and his honor as he watched wine stain your lush lips or the way you would let out a low moan at the taste of the pie placed on your plate. You were too much of a temptation, a trial sent by the gods to test his patience and honor, in which he was seemingly failing, for all he wanted to do earlier was cut all the suitors who dared touch you and now taste the wine on your lips.

When supper had come to an end, Aemond was quick to stand and had a great wish to retire to his rooms, but his mother had different plans. “Aemond, will you escort Lady Lannister to her quarters? A young lady cannot be left alone in the halls at such an hour,” You turned your expecting gaze to the prince, watching as his jaw ticked and his tense form turned rigged. It was alarmingly clear that he had no wish to extend such generosity to you, but still, he obliged his mother and offered his leather-clad arm for you to take.

You walked out of the dining hall in exchange for the corridor. Tense, suffocating air surrounds you and the second-born prince, whose reluctance was nothing short of obvious. You tried to make polite conversation with him as he walked with you through the never-ending, dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, but his replies were only a nod and a grunt. When you reached the door of your chambers, you let go of the prince’s arm, pride wounded as you were completely ignored and could feel unaccounted animosity towards you. “Good night, Your Highness,” You drawled, growing annoyed by the moment but still had the respectability to lowly curtsy before the prince.

Aemond gulped as you curtsied before him once again, giving him a heavenly sight of your bosom that made him stiffen in his spot. He knew that your actions were a sign of respect; he should take it as a compliment that you had bowed before him lowly, but every time you did so, all you did was tempt him more. You were shameless as you fashioned a dress with such a neckline, giving every man a sight for their desires to only fester. Now he knew why every man who had encountered you had been left entranced and obsessed; you were a vixen, a true lioness.

Days passed as you stayed in the Red Keep, and you could feel the constant and growing animosity and disapproval Prince Aemond held for you. You had no idea the reason for it; you could not recall what you had done for him to grow so callous and mean towards you. You would hear his scoffs of derision whenever someone paid you a compliment, and he was within earshot to hear it. You would catch him as he would roll his unique lilac eye whenever you spoke or offered your opinion or even when you laughed. It was such a shame that such a handsome and attractive prince was so vile and rude. You were growing impatient and irritated with him. On any other occasion, your course of action will be to avoid and not put yourself in situations that would require you to be near the prince, but somehow, the gods were cruel and had twisted fate to have you in each other’s presence constantly.

When night finally came and offered respite from the bitter prince, you sighed in your chambers and tried to find a reason for his contempt towards you. It was an odd feeling you did not wish to fester; all your life, everyone you met was quick to grow fond of you. You were quick to leave them enchanted by your beauty and charms. You named it as your greatest gift— your greatest power was how well beloved you are by anyone… how you could wrap them around your pretty little fingers, which is why the prince’s dislike for you had left you entirely unnerved and bothered. You were growing scared that perhaps your charms were slipping and soon, all too, would feel the same animosity the prince harbors for you. You could not find rest that night, fear trickling into your system. The prince had unraveled your deepest fears with just his quiet distaste.

You step out of your guest chambers and threaded the halls of the Red Keep, walking the darkened halls and trying to find distraction in the library. You walked straight and paid no mind if any soul was in the library because you were certain that no one else would be present at this hour. You were mistaken.

Prince Aemond frowned to himself, thinking his mind had placed a trick upon him. The image of you haunted him even in the dead of night when he thought he could finally escape your beautiful torment. But as he heard books being retrieved from shelves and the way your scent wafted to where he sat, he grew aware that the image he saw was no apparition. You were there, with him, alone in the quiet room.

Aemond took quiet steps towards you, the moonlight bathing you in its light. Your frame aglow, making you look more ethereal as the silver light lights your golden mane. Aemond clenched his jaw as the same prominent desire for you only bloomed tenfold. “You should not be here,” He gritted, standing at arm’s length. It was concerning that he was standing at such a close proximity and you have yet to notice. It only solidified his theory that you were so enveloped in only yourself that you care not about the world around you. Aemond bit his tongue as an amused smirk threatened to escape to his lips. You jumped in your spot and turned to him wide-eyed in fear. He had never seen a lion frightened.

“My prince… I— I apologize, I did not know that the libraries are restricted at these hours,” You said and closed the book in your hand. “It is not,” comes the reply of the prince, making a frown of confusion paint your face. You turned your entire frame towards him, peering up at the prince who looked at you with nothing but resentment in his cold lilac eye. “Then why shouldn’t I be here?” You asked with a tilt of your head.“You should be in your chambers.” Aemond gritted and removed his gaze from you because looking at you illuminated by the moonlight made him feel too much. He stepped back, but you matched his actions and stepped forward. He took a step back again, and you only mimicked his steps. It was an odd scene, a dragon being toyed by a lioness.

Watching Prince Aemond’s nostrils flare and his jaw tick again made you smirk, as he was clearly annoyed by your presence. “You do not like me,” you suddenly announced, making his shielded gaze cast itself upon your eyes again. “You do not know me, yet you do not like me… why is that?” You asked and stepped forward once again, leaving just a sliver of space between you and the prince. Aemond gulped thickly as you were just a breath away from him. Your scent evading his senses, your enchanting eyes assessing his every move.

“Oh, I know you,” He spat but felt his knees weaken when you raised your brow, painting a fake confused look on your pretty face. Siren eyes mockingly turned into doe ones, and plump lips parted in fictitious shock. “You do?” You asked. “You know me? I apologize, my prince, but I do not recall our first encounter. Please, tell me how you know me,” you rolled your eyes and finally let your annoyance slip, for you had enough of the prince’s judgment. The prince and you stared each other down, him not finding words as you had your expressive, scathing gaze upon him. He did not know how to handle himself— he was always silver-tongued and quick-witted, never one to be speechless, but apparently, that changed when it came to you. When pitted against you, he felt like the quiet, dragon-less little boy he once was. His raging fire weakened and turned to mere flickers.

You scoffed and shook your head, not wavering or stepping away from the prince, ready to retire back to your room, but he took hold of your arm and pulled you even closer to him. “I know you. You’re a spoiled… vain… flirtatious little brat,” He spat, and watching your eyes widen and fill with offense brought back Aemond’s confidence, and he once again gained his silver tongue and towering, imposing demeanor. He watched as your cheeks flushed and wondered how it would feel to touch them. Would it be as hot as the fire that burned in his veins?

“My father and uncle used to always speak highly about you… about how cavalier, genteel, and dutiful the second prince of the realm was— it is disheartening to be faced with a mean, calloused boy who had shown me nothing but animosity since I’ve arrived— animosity which I do not understand the reason of!” You retaliated and pried his hold off you, Aemond trying not to grow amused as you said the words with a stomp of your foot as if you were throwing a tantrum. “You want to know the reason?” Aemond hummed as you glared at him. “Yes.” You said and crossed your arms across your chest. Aemond caught the action and reminded himself not to let his eye linger upon the deep live between your bosom. He was certain you did that on purpose. You were calculated; you did each of your actions, knowing fully well that it would elicit a reaction from those around you that would only selfishly serve you and your vanity.

He could see it in how you interacted with the lords and other men, flashing your coy smile, batting your eyelashes, and seducing them with just a mere movement from your graceful frame. He could see it in how you toyed with Aegon, letting him whisper things to your ear, leaning in closer when the older prince spoke, and laughing at whatever meaningless word came out of the prince’s wine-smelling mouth. And you did it with him as well, the way your eye would hold his gaze, seeking him out during dinner and distracting him whilst in training. You were a shameless flirt. Someone who craved attention, and everyone seemed to be grateful to give you what you sought— except Aemond.

“Because you are a flirt— a tease. You toy with men because you were gifted with beauty,” Aemond seethed and that only brought a deep furrow on your brows. “I am no such thing!” You defended yourself, and the prince only scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are. It is plain. You have them wrapped around your fingers— you know how easily an attractive face persuades them,” the prince said but frowned as he saw your lips twitch upward. As if his words and insults were a jest. “Tell me, my prince… do you agree with their sentiments? Do you find me attractive as well?” You asked and tilted your head, smirking to yourself as the dragon’s fire stuttered and backed away once more. It was a battle, each opponent taking their hits and reloading in time just to fight with the other again.

The prince gulped and felt heat rise to the tips of his ear; luckily, the reddening flesh was covered by the curtain of his silver locks. “I— I don’t,” He said and stood his ground, forcing his voice to be steady and scathing though he told a plain lie. “I do not find you attractive,” He said more firmly and slightly more convincing this time. “You don’t?” You asked and watched as he curtly nodded and thinned his lips. “That is good,” you mused and backed away from the little space you had given him. The prince’s brow twitched as you said your sentiment, as he heard relief from your voice. “Why is that?” He curiously asked his turn to step closer to you.

“Because your mother had proposed to my father that a union between us would be well suited; well suited to whom I do not know, but that is what she had proposed. Telling my father that she had needed to bring the subject to you to see if you agreed.” It was a nice scene to see the prince’s whole body turn to stone in shock. His thin lips parted, and his eyes held cluelessness and disbelief. You took the moment of silence from the prince to speak once more. “Well, it is most fortunate that you clearly don’t agree— it would save me from having to be in the presence of such a… prejudiced and bitter prince.” You relished the way you caught his hand clenched around nothing and the way you were certain he was ready to turn violent by your words. However, you still continued to speak.

“Though the title of princess is quite tempting, and I am certain I’d look exquisite with a tiara— I’d rather run off with the stable boy and live in squalor than live in a place with you.” You finished with a satisfied smirk on your lips at the murderous look on the prince’s face. When his lips parted and tried to speak, he flailed on what to say. That only added to your triumph. “Good night, my prince, Aemond,” You said in a sickly, sweet tone and lowly curtsied again before walking your way back to your chambers.

It should greatly shame the prince. His actions would haunt him for moons to come, but the moment you exited the library, and he was once again left alone, he succumbed to his desires and undid the laces of his trousers. Pulling his painfully hardened length and pleasured himself with the thought of you. Your scent still hung in the air, and your voice still rang in his ear, but what pushed him over the edge was the image of you curtsying, almost going to your knees before him. His mind was made then. Whatever act he had portrayed the past few days will quickly come to an end for he shall certainly agree with his mother that a union between him and you would be most suited.

You sat in disbelief and utter confusion as your father announced to you that a union between you and the prince shall take place. “Why? Wh— did the queen ask his thoughts on this? Or was it just your and Her Majesty’s decision?” You questioned as you recalled the night in the library with the prince. It had only been two days since the heated and angered scene transpired, and you had done your best to avoid him and his raging lilac gaze. “The prince came to me and asked for your hand. And given the conversation I had with the queen, I assumed that his proposal has her blessing.” Your lips agape, and you try to work out your objections, but your father cupped your cheeks. “You, my darling, will be a princess just like you had always dreamed of.” He said softly, recalling how you ran the halls of Casterly Rock with a tiara atop of your head when you were younger— always begging your septa to tell you stories of princesses and their princes finding 'happily ever after.’

“I shall leave you to get ready— it will be announced to the court later today, and the wedding shall take place in a week’s time.” He announced, making you stand in utter surprise. “What?! Father— Why so soon?” You asked in disbelief. “The queen wishes his son to be married before the king meets his demise. He wishes for the king to witness Aemond joyously with his bride,” You were stunned and were certain that joy would not appear from a union between you and Aemond, making the Queen’s wishes moot. “Now, make haste as you shall be presented with your betrothed!” Your father smiled and kissed the top of your head, and hurriedly left the guest chambers.

Aemond observed as your proud gaze was planted on the floor as they announced the upcoming union between the two of you. He was certain that news had left you in quite a state of confusion. The prince passed his eye at the sea of people, mostly on the men who had lined up for years and courted you, only to witness that the beauty they coveted was then promised to the dragon prince. Aemond’s look turned to his brother, whose jealous gaze was upon him, and Aemond couldn’t help but smirk. He then returned his gaze to you again, finally having looked up and locked your eyes upon him. Nothing but confusion in your orbs, and perhaps anger that Aemond simply found endearing.

“I do not understand.” You gritted as you and Aemond were given a chance of privacy to get to know more about each other before the wedding. You two were in the room of the small council, the queen, your father, and the lord commander standing by the other side of the door lost in discussion as you and your betrothed were about to thread towards an argument. “You and I shall marry each other; what is so hard to understand?” The prince retorted. “I suppose the saying is true… the more comely the woman is, the more she is simple,” Aemond quickly added, grinning at how quickly you were to grow red in rage. Your cheeks match the scarlet of your gown.

“Why, in the name of the seven, would you agree to this?! You and I are not suited for each other!” you whispered harshly, not wanting your parents to hear you quarrel. "And what makes you think so?” The prince hummed, stepping closer to you, tightening in his trousers once more as your plump lips were agape. “I haven’t had a civil conversation with you. All our interactions have been arguments— do you truly think that a marriage between us would work?” You asked incredulously, mind spinning at how abrupt, incomprehensible, and inexplicable the fates were. “You wish for a civil conversation? Let us have one then,” he simply replied and took a seat in one of the chairs housed in the long table separating the two of you.

You took in deep breaths and studied as he sat calmly, his hands placed atop the wooden table. You eventually took the seat across from him. “Why did you agree to this union?” You asked, your mind still replaying the scene in which he stated plainly that he dislikes you greatly. “Because I am in need of a wife,” he answered. You licked your lips and shook your head. “Why me, then? When you are perfectly aware of our shared… distaste for one another,” You said and watched as the prince shrugged. “Because…” the prince trailed, licking his lips as he was certain you would not believe what he would utter because he himself would find it hard to believe as well at how he had treated you since you had come. “I want you.” He finally said after a long moment of steely silence. The prince clenched his jaw as he heard you scoff, and a sardonic, melodious laugh soon followed. “You want me?” You asked, “What? You want to punish me? Make me miserable with a union with a man who hates me?” You added. “I do not hate you,” the prince sighed and rolled his eye as you stubbornly shook your head.

“Ever since I have arrived all you had done was glare at me, pick quarrels and squabbles. You had offended me right to my face, and now you say want me?” You asked incredulously. “They say Targaryens are mad… but I had hoped your mother’s blood had leveled your and your sibling's heads.” You mumbled and did not expect to see an amused look on the prince’s face. A beat of silence surrounded the two of you, staring each other down. A lioness with a confused scowl on her face, and a dragon who had amusement and content on his. “I still do not understand,” You said, and the Prince sighed once more.

“It was all an act,” he sighed. My animosity towards you—all of it was an act. A facade to protect me because when I saw how you interacted with the other prospects for your hand… how obliging you were with them, I could not stomach the fact that you would not be mine,” he admitted, letting himself be vulnerable for the first time in years. I… I do not like sharing,” he then added.

“I was five and ten when I read the first poem written for you,” he started. “I have not seen you… I have not a clue of who you were except that you were Ser Tyland’s kin, and you were of great beauty as they have written, and you already managed to make me grow curious,” You stayed silent as the prince continued on to explain. “I waited every week for new poems to be published… the songs in your name still did not receive much recognition— you were still unheard of by the others. I was certain I was the only one who bought those pamphlets; you were a secret for me alone.” You nodded along and rested your back against the chair, observing the prince intently as he spoke. “Aegon found the pamphlets and began to grow curious too… along with the entire kingdom, and I just did not enjoy the thought that I have to share the desire to know you— to be with you with other men,” He finished, and you bit your tongue as you did not know how to take the prince’s explanation. Was it flattering or puzzling? You had no clue. All you knew was your heart was beating loudly in your chest and your stomach was filled with butterflies.

“My uncle often shared stories of you and your siblings…” You spoke, your turn to share an anecdote. “As a child, I have always been enthralled by the idea of royalty. So he would oblige me and tell me stories of the Dragon Princes.” Aemond nodded along as your eyes were cast upon the wooden table. “He would always go into great detail about your brother, Aegon… seeing he will be king, but I was always more curious about you,” You admitted. “But he said you always kept to yourself, so he could not truly tell me stories about you, so I would make him repeat the anecdotes already told time and time again. On how kind you were with your sister and how dutiful you were to your mother… how you were brave and determined— ceaselessly training with the sword even if you had lost your eye. And if you were not training, you were adding to your scholarly knowledge.” You turned your gaze to the Prince’s exceptionally beautiful lilac eye, “I have been fond of you long before I have met you, my prince. Ask my father and uncle… or anyone in Casterly Rock, for that matter,” You said truthfully, watching as Aemond’s lips twitch into a smile

“I would admit; I came here with the hopes of getting to know you… that perhaps a match between us would fall organically and not one that our father and mother made.” You said and fisted the fabric of your scarlet gown as your heart beat loudly at your admittance. The prince licked his lips, “Should it matter how this union was made?” He asked, “Either way, in the end, we’ll still get what we both want,” Aemond stated, his whole being satisfied as he was not the only one who pinned over a person he was still yet to meet. “I suppose not,” you smiled as your impending nuptials with a prince you had dreamed of since you were a child was to come. The door then swung open, revealing your father along with the Queen.“I hope the both of you had gotten the chance to grow more acquainted with each other,” The queen smiled, already excited with the prospect of your marriage and for you to be her daughter. You were most fitting to their family; not only will her son gain an incredibly charming and comely wife, but her daughter too will gain a friend.

“We have, your grace,” You said with a small smile. She gave a pleased nod, and her smile widened, “That is good. Come with me, child. Plans have to be made, and you still have yet to be fitted for your gown!” She said and held out her hand for you to take. You stood and turned briefly to your betrothed; you once again curtsied before him. Now, a smile intended for him was placed on your pink lips, and Aemond’s longing gaze followed you as you walked out of the room with his mother.

The day of your wedding was quick to come, and you felt entirely giddy and excited about marrying Prince Aemond. Your father escorted you down the aisle, the eyes of the kingdom following you as you gracefully walked to your soon-husband, who had a rare smile on his lips. When your father gave your hand for the prince to take, you felt gooseflesh scatter throughout your entire body. Aemond looked at you adoringly throughout the entirety of the ceremony, not at all paying attention to the Maester who blessed your union.

Aemond was entirely impatient for him to announce you as his wife and for him to finally be able to kiss your lips. To mark you as his in front of the gods and the entire kingdom. And when that moment finally came, the desire that burned brightly inside the both of you only grew. Aemond was not one to show affection publicly, but he could not hinder himself as he cupped your cheeks to deepen your kiss that was witnessed by all present in the hall. Their screams and cheers faded and turned mute as both of your lips intertwined.

Suppressed desires could not be contained any longer as you and Aemond had finally had a taste of each other. There was supposed to be a banquet to celebrate your union; the Queen had organized the feast to perfection, and your father spared no expense for the celebration. But it was unfortunately missed by you and your husband as Aemond quickly led you to your shared bed chambers, both of you unable to wait for nightfall to be in each other’s arms.

“Aemond,” You mewled as he pushed you up against the stone pillar in your chambers. His lips kissed your neck, leaving his mark with every kiss, and his hands quickly untied the laces of your gown. You hear him growl as you boldly move your hand to cup his hardened length against his trousers, hesitant as you move your hand. “We should be in the feast,” You said but made no move to halt your pleasurable actions. Aemond shook his head, “Do you want to attend the feast, or do you want to be pleasured, wife?” He asked and watched with dark eyes as the sleeves of your dress draped down your arm and revealed more of your milky skin. “I want you, husband.” You breathed, and Aemond let out a pleasurable sound as your hold on his length tightened.

“Kneel,” Aemond gritted, and your eyes widened at his command. “Kneel and show your devotion to your lord husband,” Aemond demanded and clenched his jaw as you did as he asked, slowly going to your knees, your eyes still locked upon him. You licked your lips as you were eye-leveled with his bulging length, “Take it out,” Aemond commanded and tightly closed his eye as you did the action, your skin finally touching his. You bit your lip at his massiveness, at how well-endowed he was and how beautiful he fully was. You swallowed thickly as you recalled the books you had read in the dead of night, detailing how man and woman should be.

Aemond let out a strained sound as you placed a ghost of a kiss upon the tip of his cock, your name spewing from his lips as you peppered light kisses along his length. “Stop being a tease, little wife,” he gritted and felt his stomach tighten at the smirk on your lips and the view of you kneeling before him. Your dress had dropped lowly, and he could see most of your bosom that had been tempting him for days on end.

You let out a breath and to him to your mouth. You half expected yourself to be repulsed, but with each moment you had his length between your lips, bobbing your head, sucking harshly, hearing the moans your husband spewed, and looking at his pleasured etched face, you felt your cunt drip with want and anticipation. Aemond groaned louder as you fondled his other parts, thanking the gods for blessing him with you as his wife. Thanking them for their favor to let him be bound to the Golden Beauty of the realm. The prince breathed in harshly as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the need for release in him loudly pronouncing itself, making him abruptly pull out. He could not be so selfish and let himself succumb to pleasure whilst you were still filled with need.

Aemond pulled you to stand, fervently meeting your lips once more, and guided you to bed. Your dress finally fell, and Aemond greedily took one of your tit into the hot cavern of his mouth. He bit the bud and elicited a sweet whine from your lips, and he quickly soothed it with his tongue and felt you clung to him tighter. Taking his other hand and guided it to you other needing tit to pleasure it as well. Aemond smirked upon your bosom at how in need you were of him. Aemond moved his lips to your neglected tit, and his hand trailed down south, your eyes rolling back and your hands fisting the back of his head as you finally felt his cold hands upon your needing heat.

“So desperate for me, little wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction. Your moans echoed throughout the chambers, along with the sound of your wetness as Aemond slipped his finger in you, his thumb circling the pearl of your cunt, earning more of your sweet moans. Aemond moved to kiss your lips again, feeling how tightly your cunt clenched around his finger. You parted your lips as you felt climax nearing, your wide, lusted eyes locked in with your husbands, but before you could even succumb to ultimate pleasure, Aemond stole away his finger. “Aemond,” You whined, but your husband only smirked and pecked your lips. Making you watch as he brought his coated fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean.

Your mind was dazed and frustrated as he denied you pleasure. Your eyes followed him as he removed his tunic and lay nakedly on the silk sheets of your feathered bed. “Come here,” He ordered, and you hesitated for a moment. You took your bottom lip between your lips and did as told, moving to straddle him as he lay. His hands found home on your hips, urging you to move forward, and you furrowed your brows in confusion as your core threaded farther away from his length. “Aemond, I—“ Words were lost as the prince’s lips were met with your cunt. His hands forcing you down upon his face. Your head tilted back in pleasure as you rolled your hips upon his face, his prominent nose perfectly aligned with your nubbin and his tongue darting in and out of your tightness.

“Aemond,” You cried as your thighs were quick to shiver; release was finding you once more. “Aemond… Aemond…” You uttered his name like a prayer. With one flick of his tongue, you came undone, your moans ringing loudly that you were certain that it was heard in the halls but could not find care. Aemond had a slight smirk as he moved you closer to his length. Your eyes were still glazed from your climax, and your mind was so disoriented that you did not even realize that Aemond had positioned his length at your entrance. The sharp pain of your maidenhead being taken was the only indication you had that you had now sunk upon his cock.

Aemond relished at the sight of you atop of him, your cunt taking and squeezing his cock. Your breast was heaving, and your eyes were welling with tears. Aemond reached out and took your bosom into his calloused hands, kneading the taut, soft flesh— earning a pleasured moan through your pain. Aemond gave you the liberty to move whenever you felt comfortable doing so. He was an impatient man, but he savored every small movement you made as you clenched along his cock.

Your furrowed brows dissipated, and your mouth parted as the tip of cock perfectly hit the spot inside of you that made you see stars. Aemond’s breathing labored as you rolled your hips, seeking further friction. He moved his cold hands to your hips and guided you to bounce upon his cock. “Aemond!” You cried, and Aemond could only marvel at your pleasured face and bouncing tits; you squeezed him so tightly that slight pain mixed with his delight. “Are you going to come, my wife? Will you come at your husband’s cock?” Aemond hummed and sat up, placing his head between your ample breasts, greedily inhaling your scent. “Yes… gods, yes!” You cried as he harshly thrust inside you. Both of you meet your peak, Aemond spilling his seed deep inside your cunt and you clawing at his bare back and leaving your own marks.

“My wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction and nuzzled his nose against yours, a smile on your lips as your foreheads pressed as the cheers from the feast that you two disregarded were lowly heard in your chambers, “My prince,” You smiled and kissed his lips, your heart full. Your being wholly satisfied as you were bound to the prince that your young heart had wanted long before.

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euon111a · 4 days ago

Text

— B L O O D L U S T

summary: sleep with one eye open, don’t walk alone late at night, don’t trust strange men who show up at your gramma’s door. and definitely don’t move to Mississippi.

warnings: sacrificial pact/curse bond oath, themes of violence, self bloodletting, death, vampirism, supernatural elements, voodoo/occult themes, biting, minor choking/breath play, spitting, blood play.

w/c: < 11k

notes: okay, so ik everybody says this, but yes this is my first time writing, so it’s probably not gonna be perfect. yes, I’m hopping on the sinners train, I’m just original like that. there’s absolutely no use of y/n, this is entirely second pov and specifically afab reader. this also isn’t proofread, and like kinda fast and long so my bad. also, this was supposed to be out like last week, but i got kinda scared of publishing, and kinda hate how this came out, sooo yeah. i don’t have high expectations for this, chances are there might be a part two, but hopefully those who read enjoyed.

You weren’t stupid. You knew real quick what your family was.

There wasn’t a talk, or a conversation ‘bout it, but the older you got, the more clear it became. You knew when you overheard your neighbor talking to his wife ‘bout how your family ‘walks with shadows’, and how the other females of your blood ain’t ever been right in the head. It was there in the way folks steered clear of your doorstep, looked at each other like there was a secret there that only they knew of. You weren’t embarrassed of your family, never had been even when you put two and two together, you knew what you was, and you took pride in it. Safety was a rare thing to come by, and in desperate times, some people just had to do desperate things to keep the ones they loved safe.

That’s just how life was.

Blood was thicker than water, put above all else, and that’s how it’s been for generations. Blood kept you safe, kept you alive, and you didn’t know it at first, but you understand it now. It makes sense. Plus, everybody knew what New Orleans was like, the connection certain people had, the stories, the rituals, the pure energy. Who’s to blame a young couple hundred of years ago to do what they could to keep their children, their grandchildren, and their great grandchildren safe from everything wrong in the world? They did what was needed, and there’s no shame in using your resources wisely.

But everybody’s human, and people make mistakes, so when your older brother came to terms with things and realized his part of the pact was coming up, he got scared, tried to back out. He ran off, tried to get some sort of help and then he just— disappeared. Ain’t nobody know if he died, if he just ran away and got somewhere where the shadows wouldn’t interfere, or if his part of the oath was completed, but nobody’s seen him again. Talk went around about his disappearance, people claiming to hear his voice at night, hearing his screams, the earth listening to them, and then just emptiness as the sun came up. But that was all just rumors. Things grew as quickly as it started, people bringing up the jars your daddy had lined up by the porch, the roots under the porch chairs, the herbs on the windowsill. Then it was bringing up how your family never went to church, always had everything set up for y’all’s benefit, how your momma had slipped up one night and mumbled the same prayer she’d set over you to your father in public. The rumors stopped after a week, just magically went swept under the rug like a dust bunny, but everybody remembered, kept their distance and called out Bible verses to you whenever you stepped into a shop.

Your parents had their stuff packed by the next week, they’d always been waiting for a fuckup, told you to keep on your toes, but after a heavy lightning storm had lit a neighbor’s house on fire, people started suspecting your family. Before you knew it, you was dragged up to Mississippi to your gramma’s for safety and a fresh start. Your parents hadn’t bothered telling you what state they was holed up in, told your gramma to keep it strictly secret and to get you prepared for your “time”. They told you as soon as you was old enough to fully understand, not that ripe age before you finally develop a conscience but the moment before. Told you what was comin’, what had already happened for your momma, for her momma, and for every person born from the same blood before them.

It had to happen, can’t go around tryna change fate no matter how scary it seemed for your feeble mind when they first told you. It’d hurt, it’d be a hard transition, but it ain’t about the pain. It’s about the renewal, the safety. It’s about making sure you stayed whole, had a place among the shadows. So you embraced for the inevitable, learned to live with it.

Now that was five years ago, you’re a grown woman now. Your gramma was smarter at keeping things secret, had a little bouquet of herbs nailed to the front door and a sloppy baron veve etched into the porch wood where the door mat lay. Plus, life was a lil more secretive in the countryside, nobody really went around lurking for things they shouldn’t. Things was simple for a while, you helped her where she needed it, tended to her little shop in town, and she’d mutter that same prayer your momma did before you went to bed every night.

But when you got your menarche, or what your gramma called, “the final binding”, that faux simple life had changed. She shared her deepest secrets and knowledge with you, bathed you in the river, blessed you with her own gris-gris bag, and cut off a small portion of your hair just to set on fire. That night as soon as the stars started littering the sky, she slit open your palm with the same shard of glass she used on your momma, and letting the blood pour down onto the ogou feray she dug in the dirt behind the house. It was as if things shifted right as the blood hit the dirt. The air settled, the flickering of the flames in the fireplace stilled, as if the entire earth around you took a moment to rest, to soak in the warmth of the blood. Your gramma warned you of dreams that night, to not be scared and to be open, to let it happen, to listen to what they were telling you. She told you over and over to not speak, to let the spirits and the shadows do all the talking, that’s all you needed.

There was this change, this tension deep in your gut as if a heavy weight settled in you, like a hug from someone who wasn’t there, but who squeezed on tight to make sure their presence was known. The first man in your dreams hadn’t said anything, not at first. He just watched you, studied you, gazing at you as you struggled to wrap your mind on just how real the dream felt. His eyes bored into your soul as if he was peeling back every aspect of who you were and soaking up the information he learned. He told you to keep an eye out for the night man, but hadn’t told you anything else even when you tried to ask, just cut you off to say that you’d know when you’d see him, that you’d tell yourself before your mind knew, and then you woke up.

Every night’s been the same since your cross into womanhood, your sleep was the only interesting part of your day. When your eyes were closed, you’d be reunited with family members you didn’t know of, talk to people from the past and those who just encountered the cold touch of death. You’d see life as it was beyond dreams, the physical pull of something holding you back from going too far. You dreamt of visions of warnings with symbols of men on fire and rivers of blood, the weight of more than one person lingering in your dreams but only one ever being seen. It hadn’t stopped, kept growing, kept getting more real, more fulfilling, drawing you closer and closer to that magnetized energy that chased after you, but kept hidden behind shadows until it was time.

The heat was particularly heavy today, thick as ever, clinging to you like a second layer. Stuck to you the same way a quilt wraps ‘round you in the middle of the night. Ain’t no wind in the air this time, just the same scorching heat, pressing down like the same warmth of a brand against cattle. The nights had gotten restless, air so damp it’d slip through the cracks of the windows and have you waking up drenched in sweat. Just an endless stream of heat that don’t quit, even when the moon’s settled high up in the dark sky.

Not a lick of shade out in the countryside, nowhere to rest against to hide from the sun, just the same old open land and the same old humidity pressing on your chest. No trees in wrap around and cling to, no wild grass to linger on, just pure sun to skin. 24/7. The fields stretched out in endless rows, plants swaying like dying ashes in the breeze, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. That tiring damp in the summer air that stuck to your every pore thickened the further you went into town. The air was heavier there, clinging to you like a different weight, sticky everywhere you went, like the streets themselves was grabbing hold to you. But ain’t no peace anywhere in the summer, just the constant blend of day to night, the burn of the sun and the heat against your back.

Dust had clung to your shoes, your clothes, your hair, your lungs with every turn of the car had another puff of gravel thickening up the air. Moments like these you were particularly missing home, the weather down in New Orleans never reached as dry as it was in Mississippi. Normally, Mother Nature was less cruel back there, there’d be a week of hotness, but then the weekend would be blessed enough to have a long cloud of rain at night. Today though, it was extra sticky, and Gramma had been mighty adamant on going to town, so you brought it upon yourself to keep her company, despite her complaints against it. The shop smelled of old wood and herbs, the kind of scent that clung to the shelves no matter how often they were dusted. You traced your fingers along the countertop, the grain rough against your skin, listening to the way that momentary silence settled around you. It wasn’t an eerie quiet—just the kind that came when the world outside had dimmed, when the street beyond the window had almost emptied, when the only things left awake was the crickets and the slow hum of the overhead lamp.

“You stay home tonight.” Gramma’s voice was steady and sharp, carrying that same tone that told you that there really wasn’t no room to try to argue against her. She had you perched by the counter like some restless child who didn’t know when to quit, like you wasn’t grown enough to be on your own without her breathing down your back. Your eyes flicked away from the window, quick and ready to ask question after question as to why, but she was already turning away. Already shifting toward the older woman at the shelves, the one running her fingers along misplaced coffee tins like she had nothing else on her mind but finding the right one.

You scoffed—not loud, not reckless enough to be heard neither, just enough to let it sit on your tongue for a second before you straightened up. You settled back in as soon as she returned to the counter. “Gramma, it’s the weekend.”

The words carried, just enough weight to sound like they actually mattered, but she barely blinked, didn’t even react. Didn’t flinch, or pause, or give even the smallest sign that she was reconsidering.

Instead, she dragged that coffee tin against the countertop, tapping her fingers against the lid like the conversation wasn’t worth stopping her movements. “And?” That’s it. It was flat, unbothered, almost bored, and if you wasn’t related to her, you’d genuinely take offense to her tone. Like the weekends had never meant anything to her. Like you wasn’t looking for any excuse to get out the house tonight.

“Weekend don’t mean not waiting.” Your brows furrowed slightly, trying to untangle her words so they made sense. You didn’t even really understand what she meant, and right now wasn’t really time to go ‘round tryna decipher her words. So, you just let her talk, let the weight of the words you didn’t really understand sink in. Eventually you’d actually make sense of her ramblings, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Alright, prophet, you got any clearer messages, or am I supposed to just go ‘long with you?” It meant to be a joke, just enough of a tone in your voice so she would’ve known you wasn’t taking her too seriously, but from the look on her face it rubbed her the wrong way. It flattened that sad attempt to humor her and shut you up real quick.

She shifted the tin aside, settled it among the others, before pointing a finger at you like you cursed her head off. “Ain’t my job to spell it out for you.” She didn’t raise her voice or scowl, just went back to cleaning up the counter with a dusty piece of cloth. And that was it. That was all she said. No explanation or soft edges to her words to make you think she was messing with you.

No room for another shit joke.

And no space for argument.

Just her certainty and knowledge that she wouldn’t share with you pressing down like the kind of knowledge that don’t come from guessing, just from years of watching the same thing unfold again and again.

The weekend clearly didn’t matter.

Not to her, so it wouldn’t to you.

And then it was quiet again. Not just cause she was mad or the fact that you was a little scared, but because there was that unease in your gut. The kind you get after waking up from a nightmare. The little jingles of the bells by the door, the slight sniffs customers made when scanning different candles and herbs was the only thing that distracted you. That and the muffled sounds of lively conversation outside. Your gramma must’ve snuck up behind you while you did your best to try to eavesdrop on the conversations that went by ‘cause next thing you know, she’s giving you a quick swat to the back of your head. You jolted in surprise, quickly turning around to face her instead of being nosy as you rubbed the back of your head, fixing her with an annoyed look.

“Junebug, go’n get some more tins— and none of those dented ones again.” You sucked in a slow sigh at your gramma’s order, sharply turning your head to watch her as she busied herself with helping a customer. You hopped off the stool, letting the wood creak under the shift of weight. Your eyes followed her as she slipped behind the counter, fingers tapping against the wall like she wasn’t waiting on you.

“Yes, ma’am.” Words carried out of habit more than anything else, rolling off your tongue without thought. And then you moved, purposefully slow. Like the steps to the back of the shop were new, unfamiliar, weren’t anything other than the same thing you’d done a hundred times before.

Like it wasn’t routine or repetition, just so you could experience something new.

Because Gramma asked.

Because the night hadn’t changed anything yet.

Because you did the same things you’d always done— even when she allegedly knew something was coming to break the cycle soon enough.

Stuck doing the same bullshit routine, everyday, every week.

You had all night to think now. Time to sit and stew in her words. Which wasn’t always a good thing, because the possibilities was practically eating you up. Thinking meant letting every idea come to fruition— the weight of expectation, the uncertainty, the fact there was no turning back. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. Couldn’t afford screwing everything up. Your gramma had left after supper to close up the shop, said she’d come back before to play audience in case tonight was the night. But the echoes of her words still sat heavy in the your heart, pressing against your mind like a reminder.

You’d already cleaned the house two times over, not from the what-if’s or the possibilities, but just out of habit. It was always like this whenever she rambled unexpectedly. Bringing yourself to clean every nook and cranny of the house. To keep yourself from going crazy in anticipation. You hadn’t really meant to, but your body would move before your mind caught up—back and forth, tracing the same stretch of floor like movement might keep you steady. But your hands always needed something to do. Not because it’ll matter, but because control is control, and if you can make sure everything is in place, at least something will feel certain. Something other than wringing themselves over what might happen. Preparing for the unknown ain’t just about routine— it’s about settling the nerves, about making peace with the unknown, about bracing for something that doesn’t come with clear instructions because your gramma wanted to use it as a teaching moment.

Your breath came slow, fingers curling against the countertop, repeating Gramma’s words under your breath to remind yourself that this is just another step, just something possibly meaning to happen. And then you sat, forced yourself to just wait, like stillness and movement kept fighting for the reins of control. Forced yourself to take a breath and relieve the weight in your chest.

You weren’t sure why you were panicking, ain’t like she admitted that tonight was the night, but something in your gut shifted. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the clock— but you noticed the stretches. You could practically feel everything, the way time dragged on, the wind outside, the cool of the night seeping through the window you was standing too close to, just so you could see before you were seen.

Gramma never said it’d come gently, never said it’d be announced— just that it was coming. That’s the way it was with her when she was your age, so you just needed to be ready. You couldn’t let yourself freeze, no matter how heavy the air gets, no matter how much your pulse shifted, you had to force yourself to move, to breathe, to listen. Had to check yourself, to make sure you were there, awake, whole.

After an hour, you made peace with not knowing who will come, how it will start, or what will happen next. You told yourself you were prepared, even if that doesn’t quite feel true. You weren’t scared, or unsteady, or doubtful, just ready for the test. The moment everything would change. You took another breath, long and deep, because what else was there to do?

Just sit.

Just wait.

Just make peace with the inevitable.

Nothing felt different.

Nothing looked different.

But that didn’t mean the weight of it wasn’t pressing down on you. So you waited more, and more. Sat with it for a while. Let it settle. But then two hours came, gramma wasn’t back, and the night man wasn’t here, so you took the liberty to finally make do to your room.

The sun’s set, darkness has come up, the sky black, empty and cloudless. No stars, no moon, just a long stretch of black on an endless canvas. The air’s thick, heavy, weighing down every movement of nature and every breath of the land. The trees connect through their limbs, tangling up into one big blob of wood and leaf. They speak to you, sway with every inhale the ground takes, deep and low. They sob, they weep, they ache, they groan. The wind stops, and for a moment, there’s stillness, no crying, no breathing, just emptiness.

The ground shifts, it moans, hollow and ragged as if life itself is pained just from its own existence. And then the earth inhales, and you’re back home. Everything’s the same, the dining table, the old painting on the wall, the faint crackling from the fireplace, but something’s not right. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you’re not there. Not really. You’re rooted to the floor beneath you, stuck in time, prisoner to the land as it shackles you through your bones.

And then, a light. Freedom.

You can’t see it, but you can feel it, in your core, running through your veins. It’s hot, warm, a brand burning you beneath your skin, keeping you there. The red glows, vibrant and thick, and then just there, in you. He whispers your name, right there, in your ear, in your head, in you. The heat grows, it’s intense and pulls you down, magnetizing you to his voice. You try to move, try to blink, try to breathe, but you can’t. You try to listen to him, but he’s not talking anymore, you know he’s there, can feel the weight of his gaze even as you can’t see him.

Then— just, nothing.

No darkness, no silence, no weeping.

Just, emptiness.

You wake up to the same emptiness, that gnawing hollowness, that gut feeling of something being terribly wrong when nothing’s gone wrong yet. The house itself was still, like even it knew something was just off. The air was too thick, too quiet, too unmoving. The shutters of the window slapped softly against the glass, a soft ray of moonlight pushing through the wood and onto the raggedy rug by the foot of the bed before bleeding slow into the dark corners. Everything’s the same, everything’s okay, but something wasn’t quite there.

Maybe it was the dream, the heaviness of its weight still settled deep against your ribs. Maybe it was the whispers still lingering in your mind, unintelligible, unknown, but latched onto your chest like a sickness with no name. That silence that stretched too long and too thin finally interrupted. The familiar sound of the front door opening in the distance, shutting with a screechy creak and it was only then when you heard the faint sound of gravel crunching beneath wheels, that you sat up.

The air in the room sat too still, thick with the kinda silence that came when something was taken away from a child and they’re getting ready to unleash all hell. You slowly rose up from the bed, the floorboards silent under your feet. The hallway was too dark and way too empty.

The chair by the hearth was empty, rocking ever so slightly, like it had only just been left by someone. The shadows along the corner of the room shifted, melting into each other before disappearing out the window and into the night again.

Then— three knocks.

Soft, slow, deliberate, like the owner of the hand knew patience, knew you’d answer. For a moment, you wasn’t sure if you imagined it— too caught up in your own mind and the tricks that was surely being played on you. But the air shifted. Like the entire world had stilled and listened, waiting for you to respond.

Then it came again. Three knocks, heavier this time, sharp enough to carve through the prolonged silence.

Through the thin curtain, you could just make out three figures, standing still on the doorstep, waiting— like they’d been expected all along. The moment stretched even further, threatening to snap out like a band. But then you heard it. Finally noticed it.

The silence.

Not just the absence of sound, but something heavier, stretching into your ribs until all you could hear was your own breath, your own pulse beating against your ears. But you were stuck, rooted by the fireplace, caught between the weight in your chest and the whisper in your mind telling you to stay put— to just forget, to sleep, to leave the door alone. But that lump in your throat disappeared, and without thinking, without meaning to, your body moved on its own. Standing by the door, slowly turning your head to the side, you pressed your ear against the cold wood. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, maybe the sound of the wind, the creak of the porch floor, the rustle of fabric against fabric, but there was nothing.

Just a stretch of air.

“Junebug,” the nickname snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, the sound cutting clean through the walls. Your fingers curled around the door knob, not turning, just there, like the weight of your own grip was the only thing keeping you from moving and taking a step back. The voice that called out wasn’t your gramma’s. It had a feeling to it— low, smooth, drawn out just enough to make room for silence, to let it settle in the empty spaces between the syllables. There was another pause. Not long, but long enough— the kind of pause meant to remind you that this wasn’t a dream or a trick of your own mind. “I know you’re awake.”

There wasn’t any rise in his tone, no accusation or teasing in his words. Just fact. Like he knew you were alone, like he knew it had already been decided that you’d be alone, right now, tonight.

You stepped away from the door, staring at it like it would’ve forced the damn thing to tell you what exactly was behind the door. Like if you looked long enough you’d see straight through the wood, past the silence and whatever waited on the other side. There was something different, the living room felt wrong, the walls were off, it was too— raw. Like they was listening to you, like the air itself was watching you, getting ready to judge you for every wrong move you made. You took a slow look around, scanning the room like it was your first time actually seeing it.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for this time. A sign that you weren’t going crazy, or that this was the thing your gramma tried to warn you about. Maybe you were looking for a clue, a strange flicker from one of the wax candles, the same whisper in your head, or some kind of confirmation that this was happening now. They should’ve spoken by now, the shadows should’ve told you what to do, what not to do, but they didn’t. Just kept still and quiet.

It was the test, had to be. You knew it, had to know it. Gramma wasn’t there, wasn’t able to help you no matter how much you needed it right now. She wouldn’t come back to help you, wouldn’t come back to guide you, to remind you what needed doing. And the longer you brewed in your own thoughts, the more you came to realization of what had to happen. You couldn’t be scared, couldn’t run off like your brother did, this was the inevitable.

And then, something inside you just clicked.

You hummed low and certain, not a strangled gasp or a means to fight the truth, but of understanding. Before you even meant to, before your mind even had the ability to second guess, your fingers tightened around the doorknob and twisted. The door creaked open, just enough for the night air to seep into the warmth of the house.

You didn’t know the people in front of you. If you were foolish, and didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought they was some lost folks, some wandering souls who knocked on the wrong door. But you were smart, and you did know better. Hell, you knew what they were before they even introduced themselves. Your gaze peeled off the three shadows in front of you to scan the porch, to the familiar stretch of land in front of you.

She really was gone, her car wasn’t in the driveway, that faint cinnamon smell that lingered on her wasn’t close enough to be smelled. This really was happening. The very thing she’d been getting you ready for this whole time. And that weight, the one that was sat in your bones for as long as you could remember, the one that pressed down to keep you tethered to reality, kept you waiting for what was to come— wasn’t there anymore.

The wind spoke it. The glow in their eyes confirmed it. The energy sealed it. Those whispers and dreams finally came to be.

He was actually here.

“Well now,” a pause, and then a long, slow exhale, like he was deciding whether to speak at all. He tilts his head, just a fraction, not from curiosity or amusement, but just to watch. His gaze slowly drags along you and the space you’ve wedged yourself into, forcing yourself to block that small gap between the door and the doorframe. “Ain’t exactly the way to treat company, now is it?” The tone in his voice was what set you unnerved, like he had all the patience in the world, like he knew you’d eventually open the door, but the look on his face told something different. You saw it, it was quick but deliberate enough for you to see the glow in his eyes, the weight to them. He didn’t say anything after, let the silence drag on as he watched you, not rushing or giving you a look that demanded you to answer.

“You gon’ kill me?” Quick to the point. The one to the left of him let out a little sigh, maybe it was amusement, maybe it carried something deeper that you just couldn’t catch. The kind of sigh someone releases from the same question being asked over and over again. The night man barely looked over to her, had barely attempted to reassure you, to actually acknowledge it. Just glanced back at you, a quick flicker before turning back to the open door. Then with a measured breath, a subtle shift forward before finally speaking, his voice low and deliberate.

“That what you think this is?” No frustration. No sharpness. Just a question without a question mark, something that didn’t need an answer but demanded one anyway. The silence pressed on again, like everything around you wanted you to answer first. You weren’t sure now, not with the way his lips twitched up, not a full smile, just the suggestion of one. You waited again. Waited for something else, a whisper to guide you, for the wind to say what needed saying.

But nothing came. Just more silence and waiting. And the man was watching, watching like he already knew what would happen, already saw how this would play out and how it’d end.

“Aren’t you?” He let your question settle— didn’t push you to say anything else, just let the air stretch as his eyes shifted towards the people on either side of him. Then, a slow shift. Not much, just the slightest lean back, just enough to make it feel like he was really listening to you, like he was actually considering the words before deciding whether they’d mean anything at all. And then, the same flicker of a smile, like he was testing how long you’d hold out before deeming the silence to be too heavy to carry.

His eyes followed your every move. Even when you glanced back into the safety of the house, even when your gaze flickered down to your feet as you thought to yourself. You didn’t need to look up to know, you could feel it. Like he hadn’t moved at all, but somehow, with that silence, he was closer to you.

“That really what you wanna ask me?” You finally looked up, eyebrows furrowing at his question. You gave him the slightest shake of your head, not of certainty that you could’ve asked something else, but because you forced yourself to accept that you asked the wrong question. That much was clear. He made it clear. You nibbled on your bottom lip, pressing your teeth against it, trying to hold onto something physical to keep your mind from running in circles. And suddenly, the only thing you could think about was what gramma would do. Digging through your every thought, every rule and every warning you’ve been taught for this very minute.

What should you be asking?

What were you supposed to know?

What could you do so he wouldn’t stare at you like that— like he was waiting to see how you’d hold up before you overthought his very presence?

Nothing came. No pull in your chest, no reminder or flicker of knowing. Just that same hollow stretch.

“Don’t reckon I ever learned the right thing to ask.” You admitted hesitantly, rubbing the side of your neck as you pressed your lips together. A rough, vibrating sound left the man, something that came deep from his throat and rumbled into the air. Half a laugh, but heavier than one, more felt than heard. Or maybe the kind of laugh that never really forms, just the edge of it, that slight drag at the end, turning into something that was just shy of a growl but had some sort of bite to it.

And then finally, the sound— the ragged drag of breath, the edge of something close. It lingered in the air, and then a whisper. Right against your ear.

“Antre.”

Just there, curling against your skin like breath in the cold winter air. Like the moment has already moved forward before your mind could realize that it was. It was the push you needed. It’s fate. The thing you needed to get the safety you needed.

The whispers were done now. There wasn’t nothing left to try to negotiate, nothing left to question. They spoke for you, and it was needed. Already set in stone. So, you stepped back, slow and steady, opening the door despite the fact that you ain’t even know his name, or who they was. The earth made it happen. The door swung open, not with force or pressure, but the way it had to, like it knew what to do. Then he moved, a small step forward until he was close enough for you to fully see him without the casts of the shadows around him. For a second, he was just watching, like he was judging you on how you were measuring the weight of what was about to happen, the sight of you stepping back, the weight of the land moving for you. His tongue peeked out from in between his lips, dragging slow across his bottom lip, like he was ‘bout ready to pounce on you the same way a lion does to a deer.

“Come on in, then.” Your words landed soft and steady, wasn’t just permission but a statement of what was already happening. His eyes flicked up to meet yours again, a lazy grin on his face that ain’t shown an ounce of comfort or kindness. With slow steps, crossing the threshold like he’d already been inside a thousand times before, he made his way into the house. His shoulder brushed yours, not forcefully or by accident, but a deliberate gesture just enough to be felt and to stick to you. And when he turned towards the living room, the space stretched out before him, his gaze dragged. Not admiring the warmth of the decor, not on the shadows lurking around or the flicker of the fireplace, but at you. Then he took a deep breath in, savoring the air like he was settling back in after a long trip, like he was coming home from work.

“Juju always did say you’d be a smart girl.” His words landed easy, absentminded, but they wasn’t. Not really. He didn’t bother looking at you when he said it. Didn’t even really bother waiting for a reaction, didn’t seem to need one. He just stepped aside, giving space for the others to follow. Like they all understood they belonged here, and you was just some slow girl who was catching up too late.

You opened your mouth, to ask how he knew your gramma by name, to try to catch that missing piece before it disappeared forever. But the moment already passed, had kept you just a step behind them. By the time you realized it, he was already at the couch. The fabric groaned under him as he settled in, not stiff or weak, but at ease, like the house had already decided to hold him. His legs stretched out against the floor, spread out in a way that’d only be comfortable for a man. His fingers dragged lightly along the grain of the wood, taking in every texture of the couch, purposefully letting the place sink into him the way he was sinking into it. He leaned his head back against the head of the couch, his gaze glued to you as if he was waiting for you to say something before propping his arm up against the back of the couch.

“How you know gramma?” You asked quickly, a little too quickly, and he noticed. His brow lifted, not like he was startled or offended by your question, just letting the question sit before deciding what to do with it. He moved slightly. Just enough for the couch to groan beneath him, for his shoulders to sink a little lower, for his hips to shift up deliberately, like he was settling into the comfort of the house before answering your damn question. The woman snickered, but his hand was already lifting up to wave the sound off before it could finish off into a laugh.

That couple was too settled, too at ease. When your eyes finally dragged back to him— you caught the way he was looking, not like he was just watching or peeking at a stranger. It was something deeper, something far too intimate for a random. It was like water moving into cloth, taking its time to sink in, to claim space, to belong where it wasn’t invited. It wasn’t hunger, though it was almost there. But then his gaze slid down just slightly so his eyes could linger on the exposure of your neck, before he gave out a small breath of air.

“Funny that you don’t already know,” he spoke gently, curling around the space between you two. The weight of it settled into the quiet between you. He let it sit there. Let the silence soak into him, like it belonged to him as much as anything else in the room. He ran his hand along his inner thigh before casting a quick glance towards the empty space beside him. Just long enough for the meaning to settle before his eyes found you again. “Ain’t your fault, I s’pose. Got all night to remind you, ain’t in no rush.”

You blinked in momentary surprise, your eyes following his as he looked down to the cushion beside him. You could hear his order even if he didn’t speak it. The whisper in your ear, telling you to sit down, was enough confirmation. The whisper wasn’t there, not in the way the voices usually were, or the way instructions were given, but in the back of your head like you would’ve been stupid to not want to listen. But it was there, spiraling in your head until it was all you could think about. The words were soft, pressing against your ribs like a breath that hadn’t even left your mouth but still forcing through every fiber of your being. You were moving again before you had the opportunity to object, the cushion sinking beneath you as you forced a gap between the two of you. Not enough to be safe, or to go unnoticed, or out of arm’s reach, just enough to remind yourself that you had the opportunity to move if you needed to.

“You scared, or is that pretty head of yours just figuring out how deep the remembering’s gotta go?”

“I ain’t afraid.” You snapped back, a little too sharp, a second too quick, and an awful lot defensively. He caught it. Didn’t bother calling you out, or pushing back, just casted a look towards the two people he came with. For a second you’d expected one of them to call you on your bluff, but the three of them shared a glance, like they was having a conversation with just their eyes. His tongue pressed slow against his teeth, just a moment of hesitation like he was holding himself back from words that weren’t necessary just yet. All he did was take a look down to the space between you two before trailing his eyes up along your body.

“Ain’t me keeping all that space there.” He noted with a low voice, letting his eyes dip along the curve of your waist before finally meeting your face. You held his gaze for a split second before looking away towards the comfort of the fireplace like it’d give you all the answers you sought.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a stranger.” He didn’t respond at that, tilting his head to the side like he was weighing the word. Stranger. He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch just where your shoulder rested against, and though it wasn’t a means to get your attention back on him. It worked.

“Stranger ain’t the right word, girl. Reckon you know that too.” You captured your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to keep the annoyance from surfacing at his lack of a real answer, but gave him an unsure shrug.

“I don’t know y’all, you won’t tell me what you are.” The words hung between you, capturing the heaviness of your words, the helplessness at the edge, the frustration there. He let the silence drag even longer at that. Not in avoidance or the lack of an answer, but just to study that look of annoyance on your face without the interruption of his own voice.

“Ain’t the name that matters,” he shifted forward, slow and certain, like he wasn’t considering the movement, just following a second instinct. His hand slowly moved along the curve of the couch, inching its way up to lightly brush along the fabric of your nightgown. You tensed under him, tight enough for the muscles in your shoulders to coil up just enough that you were certain he’d notice. “You can call me whatever you want— the night man, the stray, night walker. Most call me Remmick,” his hand didn’t stop, not right away, just kept following the curve of your neck before letting his hand settle there. The weight of his palm rested lazy against your skin, like it fit there, like it was a missing piece. “Ain’t too picky. S’pose I’d like to hear how it sounds from you first.”

Your gaze flickered down, catching the lack of warmth to his hand, that tight steady pressure against your neck. His thumb pressed against the side of your jaw, a slow, guiding gesture as he turned your head back to him. You peeked over, just a glance, to try to see through the shadows that hid the couple he came with. But it didn’t linger, not long enough before his thumb was tapping against your jaw to bring your eyes back to him instead. “Eyes on me.”

You were quick to look back at him, not just cause he gave your throat a gentle squeeze to snap your attention to him once more. That ain’t what pulled you back. Not really. Your body was already moving before you did. Like it was second nature. Like you was already following something that wasn’t spoken, something he didn’t have to voice twice for. That slight pressure, not like he was forcing you or demanding, just enough to remind you of where his hand was and where you were. He slowly leaned forward, just enough for the tip of his nose to nudge against the side of your cheek. “Remmick?” You mumbled slightly, tense, taken aback, confused. But the question just hung there in between the silence of the room and the creak of the couch as he moved closer. He didn’t answer right away, apparently didn’t need to, just kept his hand firm against your neck and his nose pressed against your cheek.

He inhaled slowly, deeply as if savoring every molecule of your scent and the way his name fell off your tongue. His lips brushed against the warmth of your skin in a languid path, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inched his way towards your ear. He paused, taking another long, deliberate inhale, flooding his senses with every inch of you. “Ain’t even started yet, and you already tense,” his words murmured against the delicate skin of her throat, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His head dipped lower, his lips dragging a path of heat downwards until he found the flutter of heartbeat at the base of your throat. He stilled, the heat of his breath heavy against the pulse he hovered over. “You feel that?”

You swallowed hard, trying to calm the nerves in your stomach and that red flashing light in your head that told you this was a bad idea. "Feel what?" It came out real pathetic, barely audible like he was choking the life out you. His tongue flicked out, a fleeting, teasing caress against that rapid pulse but he was quick to reach down and grab hold of your wrist to stop you from moving.

“I’ll show you.” His grip on your throat tightened, just enough to get your heart beating against your chest like an impatient bird locked up in its cage. You jerked under him, your feet kicking and sliding against the fabric of the couch as you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose. The first touch is barely there. Then— the weight of his hand. Not holding you still, just there, pressing up against the side of your face like he was tryna give you something to lean into.

This is wrong. You gotta move. Who cares ‘bout the test? Do something. Don’t just let him sniff up on you like a dog in rut. Do something idiot.

But you couldn’t, you weren’t sure why. Maybe you liked it, maybe you was afraid, but you let him. And then, that press.

The faintest drag of teeth against flesh, just enough to have you pulling back with a shiver, enough to feel the sharpness before they sink in. His lips grazed the spot, pressing a soft kiss there, tasting the skin, testing to see if you’d pull away or lean into it. But when you didn’t fight back, just gave out a strangled hum, his teeth pressed against the pulse. It ain’t a lunge or a tear. Not sloppy or all tongue. Just pressure. That brief shock of something sharp, turned into heat, thrumming against his teeth like your body already knows what’s happening. Just sharp, fleeting pressure, like the moment before a needle breaks the surface.

Then a slow bloom of heat, something real warm rushing through your nerves like a delayed reaction. And again, your body registers it faster than your mind, not in alarm or fear, just instinctive awareness that something’s pulling, something’s taking. The faint ache of punctured skin shifts curling deep into your gut, and there’s that tug, like a slow surrender. Your pulse stutters for half a second, like your body was fully adjusting to it, almost liking it. And then— a strange, lingering warmth. You could barely make out the little groan that slipped from his lips, like it took everything in him to not indulge in the moment.

A deep, humming sensation sits beneath the surface, not of pain, but a profound growth of pleasure that suffused through you. You hadn’t even noticed the way your head had gone slack, lolling back against his hand until the pad of his thumb running along the side of your jaw had brought you back to your senses. A weak, breathy grunt escaped your lips, pushing yourself up against his hand, and he let you, quietly easing your body back. Keeping the warmth of his mouth against you deliberate, and lazy. “Shh, I know,” He murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your skin. His thumb traced the hinge of your jaw, a slow touch as he cupped the side of your face to guide you to look away.

Not too deep. Not too much. Just enough for the taste of you to hit his tongue, enough for the air between you to shift, and stretch so damn thin you was sure you’d pass out. It was something far more complex, a maelstrom of sensation that curled like smoke through your veins before it transformed into a quieter, more deliberate pleasure. Something just enough to mean something without taking too much. And when he pulls back, the wound isn’t much. Your hand flies up to the side of your neck, instinctively searching for the two marks, just a lingering warmth, just enough that you’d feel it long after he’s moved back from your throat. Heat blooms first, a sudden rush, something bright against the dull ache where his teeth settled in.

“You bit me.” You slurred out, as if the realization had only just dawned on you now that’d he gone pulled away from you, your voice laced with something between shock and offense. You brought two trembling fingers to your face, staring down at the crimson slick of blood and saliva that clung to your skin like a dark, glistening dew. His eyes followed your movement, a constricted, hungry glint in the shine of his pupils as he took in the sight of it. Your eyes flicked around the room, only to be met with the absence of a crowd, the dark curl of shadows stretching out over the walls.

He grinned then, a slight, wicked curve of his lips that sent a bolt of energy straight to your soul. His tongue darted out, painted in the crimson smear of your blood painting his tongue a dark, enticing red as it swiped across his bottom lip in half means to clean up the mess he’d made. “Gon’ be good and let me do it again? Or stay all dramatic?” You blinked in confusion at his question, like it’d be a normal thing to go around getting your neck chomped by the night man, but you couldn’t find it in you to try to speak or object. He leaned in closer, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he dragged the slick flat of his tongue against the indented mark his teeth left on your throat. The sensation was a sharp bolt of pleasure, one that seemed to send a warmth in your belly. His hand slid higher, fingers curling around the slender column of your throat, squeezing with a deliberate force that made your vision blur.

“You gon’ kill me.” Your breath came out too ragged, messy and taut, dragging in shallow breaths, like your body was forcing you to stay still but your mind was fighting for you to run.

You could hear the tremble in your voice, tried to ignore the ragged breaths of your body to keep from panicking any more. You tried your best to keep a level head, to remind yourself that this was a test, and you had to do what you could to not get cold feet. You forced yourself still, to remind yourself that this was a test, panic wasn’t an option. Couldn’t afford cold feet.

“Ain’t taking more than you can give,” he corrected with a gravely voice, lips hovering a mere hairsbreadth from the dark, blooming mark he'd left upon your throat. You wanted to push him for an answer, to ask him to help you make sense of his words, but instead, you lavished in the feeling of his lips planting a soothing kiss to the tender flesh. “You gonna let me?”

And without knowing, you was already nodding at his question, sucking on your bottom lip to keep from getting a shaky mouth. “Is it gonna hurt?” You could feel the smirk growing on his lips at your question, humming low and firm against your skin as one hand slipped down along the curve of your hip.

“Wasn’t easy for your brother. Can be easier for you.” His hand slid from your jaw to your shoulder, fingers curling around the delicate bone, anchoring you to him. His eyes held yours, a molten gaze that seemed to see straight through to the terrified, like he was tryna make sure you fully understood his words, yet didn’t say anything else. You stared up at the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to connect the puzzle pieces he laid out for you.

He brought two fingers to your chin, tilting your head to the side so you can meet his scorching gaze once again. You felt the slow, deliberate slide of his fingers against the flesh of your bottom lip, parting it with a gentle insistence that brooked no resistance. “Open your mouth,” your eyes snapped to his face, scanning every inch to see if he was making a joke of you. He looked down at you, the glow of the fireplace casting a dark light in his eyes that shadowed his face so perfectly he looked unreal. “Ain’t gonna say it again.”

You hesitantly parted your lips, your eyes following every subtle shift of movement in his face as he watched you. He slowly nudged your lips further apart, his fingers pressing deeper to prop your mouth open just a little wider. Just enough that he could see the pink base of your tongue. His mouth opened, and before you could react, he was spitting the thick mixture of the coppery tang of your blood with the warm, iron laced flavor of his saliva directly onto your tongue. For a split second, a wave of emotions slapped you in the face, more offense to the man who just spit on your tongue, but the longer the taste lingered there, the more you actually liked it. It tingled across your taste buds, a dark, taboo essence that sent a strange sensation alive in your stomach.

Before you could even begin to process it, his fingers were pushing in deeper into your mouth, easing you to swallow that offering. As his digits pushed past your teeth, your tongue instinctively curled around them, the muscle fluttering and moving against his fingers with a mind of its own. He sucked in a slow breath at the sight, giving you a little nod of silent encouragement to keep going. He took cruel advantage of your mouth, using the slick, silken heat of your tongue to coat his fingers. “Oh, look at that.” He strained out with a slight groan, the hand placed on your hip slowly guiding you up against him so he was rested pressed in between your legs.

He eased you to swallow the combination of your shared essences sliding down your throat in a thick, viscous rope. The sensation was odd. The sheer depravity of it sending a bolt of hot, forbidden pleasure moving through your veins. It was as if, in that moment, you could feel his presence inside you, the claim upon your body and soul growing stronger, more absolute with each passing second. Your throat worked convulsively around the invading fingers, muscles clenching and rippling as they struggled to accommodate the sudden, unwanted intrusion.

As you finally managed to force down the last of the combination, your lungs burned with the need for air. As you gasped and choked, fighting to fill your lungs with much-needed oxygen. As you fought to regain your breath, lungs sore with the desperate need for oxygen, his fingers remained an unyielding presence in your mouth, a lewd plug preventing the heavy gasps from escaping. Each ragged, strangled inhale sent a fresh surge of humiliation coursing through you, the hidden knowledge that your body kept responding to him without hesitation. It was a twisted parody of intimacy, a perverse mockery of the way lovers might share breath and saliva in the heat of passion. And yet, despite the degradation, and deep humiliation of it all, you couldn't deny the way your body reacted, the way your skin burned up like it was on fire.

His lips crashed against yours in a messy kiss, his tongue slipping against yours, as if he meant to devour you inside out. He licked into your mouth, his tongue swirling and twining with your own in a way that physically stole your breath. It was quick, and sloppy, and not nearly as long as you secretly wanted it to be. He broke the kiss, forcing your head to turn towards the warmth of the fireplace before trailing quick kisses along your jaw. Moving further and further down back towards the mark he left a few moments before. His breath ghosts over the skin first, dragging out the anticipation. The way he kisses against your skin is controlled—slow, wet, not rushed, not impatient like the kiss was. You were so locked onto the feel of his mouth against your neck that you hadn’t even noticed the feeling of teeth there again.

The bite wasn’t like the one from before. It was sharp, deep, cutting through skin enough to the point it bordered on painful. The bite was this hot fire that seared through your flesh and bone, piercing the very essence of your being. You couldn’t even force out a scream or a gasp at the heat of teeth tearing through skin, muscle, and sinew to pierce the pulsing artery beneath.

All you could feel and see was the blood that gushed into the air, a scarlet fountain that splashed across his face to paint his skin a glistening red. All you could smell was the scent of your own blood, thick and cloying, the metallic tang of it burning through your nostrils and your tongue. The room spun, tilted wildly as the strength drained from your body, with each spurt of crimson.

As your body struggled against the change, your mind soared. Memories blurred and bled together, the line between past and present, reality and nightmare, dissolving into a hallucinatory haze. All you could think about was gramma. All your memories revolved to this very moment. All the life flashing back before your eyes, just for this.

For the feeling of the life leaving you.

All you could feel was the pain. So immense. So unbearable. So real. The last thing you felt was your heart stutter and pause in your chest, your lungs burning for air that could not fill them.

And then— just sleep.

#kal’s blurbs #euonia #sinners #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick fanfic #sinners movie #jack o'connell #sinners 2025 #sinners au #sinners fic #vampirism #fanfic #sinners remmick #Spotify #vampires

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f1samcro · 19 days ago

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The Better JPG

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist

fc; sabrina carpenter (she will be a common one i fear im so in love with her its a problem) (also theres like 1 photo of lily that we shall pretned is sabrina pls n thx)

LIKED BY lando, madisonbeer, lilymhe, AND 800,975 OTHERS

y/nnorizz.jpg i shall prove to be the superior norris with a superior jgp account, with a SUPERIOR photographer

lando EXCUSE ME? THE JPG IS MINE

↪y/nnorizz.jpg mine now tehehehe

madisonbeer have my babies pls n thx xxxx

↪y/nnorizz.jpg ill have to ask my photographer if thats allowed

↪madisonbeer fuck the patriarchy and have my children newayz

↪y/nnorizz.jpg ill be fucking somebody

↪lando there are children on this app (its me. i am children)

alexalbon what happened to being a norizz sibling? you kept having lily giggle at her phone

↪y/nnorizz.jpg not my fault im hotter than you albono🤷‍♀️

↪lilymhe im sorry alex but id leave you for her

↪alexalbon LILY?

↪y/nnorizz.jpg HA

LIKED BY madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, AND 765,899 OTHERS

y/nnorizz.jpg my photographer said i should fuck him and not the patriarchy 😔 sooooo appreciation post for my wife (and a small one for my photographer bcs IM HOT)

madisonbeer your photographer sounds toxic 🫤

↪y/nnorizz.jpg he very much is after last nught

↪madisonbeer ABSOLUTELY NO WAY YOU GOT DICKED DOWN SO GOOD YOU CANT TYPE

↪y/nnorizz.jpg IT WAS ONE WORD. MIND OUT OF GUTTER PLS N THX

user78 oscar?????? what are you doing here??????

↪user46 y/ns been in the garage A LOT, her and oscar are bound to have met considering lando brings her everywhere

lilymhe we should escape our toxic photographers and have a throuple @.y/nnorizz.jpg @.madisonbeer

↪y/nnorizz.jpg yesssss

↪madisonbeer shell get dicked down again

↪alexalbon were having a discussion about yu being in love with y/n

↪y/nnorizz.jpg im a very loveable person

↪lilymhe TOXIC. PHOTOGRAPHER.

LIKED BY lilymhe, madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, AND 100,135,876 OTHERS

y/nnorizz.jpg guys my photographer said i could launch him

lando i dont approve

↪y/nnorizz.jpg stop being a sore loser xx

↪lando never enter my vicinity again

↪y/nnorizz.jpg big word for someone who didnt get their gcse's

↪lando big attitude for someone who wrote a song abt wanting to fuck someone, but hasnt told the public who they wrote it about

↪y/nnorizz.jpg get off my page you hater

↪lando i quite like it here now

↪y/nnorizz.jpg everybody point and laugh

↪madisonbeer 🫵😂

↪lilymhe 🫵😂

↪alexalbon 🫵😂

↪maxfewtrell 🫵😂

maxfewtrell it's okay y/n i wont bully you unlike somebody

↪y/nnorizz.jpg love ya maxie xx

↪maxfewtrell a??? public??? display??? of??? affection??? ew.

↪y/nnorizz.jpg kys xx

↪maxfewtrell youre in my suicide letter

user78 OSCARS HERE AGAIN

↪user46 ill let you cook this time

LIKED BY oscarpiastri, lando, nicolepiastri, AND 200,736,972 OTHERS

y/nnorizz.jpg its my photographers birthday today!!!!!!!!!! happy birthday to my love, i wish i could say im sorry for the birthday muffin idea but im rlly not xx

thank you for putting up with me and taking FIRE photos whilst your at it. i have decided to share MY photos of you (plus one of me you took last night bcs your photography skills still need to outshine my brothers)

i love you endlessly my koala! (i WATCHED cricket with him the other day. i understood NOTHING. but i watched)

now. ahem. the last four photos.

1. HIS LITTLE NONCHALANT BITCHASS RESPONSE TO THIS NEW DRESS I GOT. LIKE WTH I LOOKED HOT AND I GET A THUMBS UP????

2. idk you look like a gremlin and im here for it

3. this is the face of a man whos listened to me complain the entire hike, just fo rme to say i wanted to go back and get more photos the second we went down

4. he heard my voice in the corridor and poked out with a DEVIOUS looking grin

oscarpiastri i love you endlessly, my little hedgehog (emphasis on the little)

↪y/nnorizz.jpg its only a head difference. calm urself down b4 i kill you in your sleep xx

↪oscarpiastri where else would you find a man willing to hike ALL the way back so you can take some photos?

↪y/nnorizz.jpg point has been considered

↪oscarpiastri i also gave you a much better reaction to that dress in person. you looked beautiful love

↪y/nnorizz.jpg you dont fight fair

↪oscarpiastri you lock yourself in the bathroom until you get your way

↪y/nnorizz.jpg you??? let??? me??? i??? never??? lock??? the??? door???

↪oscarpiastri you're watching cricket tonight

↪y/nnorizz.jpg wth man

madisonbeer i shall find my own photographer considering piastri stole mine

↪oscarpiastri SHE made the FIRST MOVE

↪madisonbeer shed never betray me like that

↪y/nnorizz.jpg ...

↪madisonbeer throwing your stuff into a firepit as we speak xxx

lando this doesnt prove you have a better jpg

↪y/nnorizz.jpg yes it does tf i have osc and youve js got your ugly ass

↪lando im not ugly and you know it

↪y/nnorizz.jpg sir you are my brother. please stop.

#oscar piastri #mclaren #f1 #oscarpiastri #f1 2025 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine

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ohmyitsfaith · 9 months ago

Text

The sunshine and the grump / Part 2

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sudden visitors show up on a calm day and chaos ensues. Who are they and where did they come from? But most importantly why are they here? You, your husband and his family are ready to find some answers.

Warnings: fighting, Sparrow!Ben being sparrow!Ben

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: Hi everyone, I know, it's been a while. But here is something that should have been done sooner. The second part to The sunshine and the grump. Please forgive me for this, but in this part Viktor is refered to as "Vanya" and using she/her pronouns. This is solely for the reason that this story is from the reader's point of view and she doesn't know that he's Viktor. If there's an interest in a new part, then obviously I will incorporate him coming out as Viktor. Anyway, long a/n to the side, I hope you guys will enjoy it!

“Shit” broke out of the six people standing in front of you collectively.

Ben guided you behind him gently, sheltering you from the strangers.

“Ben?”

A soft sigh is all that could be heard from the guy wearing a cowboy hat. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and you couldn’t even guess who he was and where he came from. You never saw him before and your husband wasn’t the type to make friends so easily. So why did this man know his name? Why did he look at him as if he saw a ghost?

“Is that really you?” the biggest guy walked forward, also looking distraught and his face twisted in confusion and grief.

“And who are those weirdos,” the walmart-batman guy yelled and you followed his line of sight, “on the balcony?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight anger, but before you could answer at all, Reginald spoke up.

“They are the Sparrows, my children.”

You felt, more than saw Ben standing up straighter and could only imagine the rest of the Hargreeves doing the same, up on the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” the small boy spoke up after the initial shock passed through his group. “What do you mean your children? That’s not possible, old man.”

“Of course it is!” Reginald exclaimed as your sibling-in-laws joined you downstairs. “I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

While most of the group looked at Reginald with untrusting gazes (which you could understand, he was your father-in-law and yet you didn’t trust the man fully), the cowboy hat guy was still looking at your husband with misty eyes.

“Everybody else can see Ben, right?” he asked, which made you even more confused. Why wouldn’t they be able to see your husband?

“Cute hat, Sundance” Ben said sarcastically, still keeping you behind him. You grabbed onto his arm lightly, to keep him grounded. But that’s exactly when the man noticed you and his eyes went even wider.

“Jennifer?” he asked louder, seemingly in shock and it prompted the rest of the group to look toward you, Ben’s arm curling around you protectively.

“Do not talk to my wife, asshole” he growled.

“Oh my gosh, it’s you! You- you guys are married!” cowboy hat guy gushed.

“Okay, that is it!” Ben moved to lash out against the guy, but Marcus stopped him.

“Enough” he said in his calming voice. “Who are you and why are you in our home?”

“They call themselves the Umbrella Academy,” Reginald answered instead. “A group of scheming, perfidious malcontents, who accosted me in the fall of 1963, when I was away on business in Dallas” he explained. “Be warned,“ he added, “they claim to be my spawn.”

That caught the attention of the woman with the very stylish cloak as she stepped forward.

“Claim?!” she then turned to her brother(?) in confusion. “Five, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, but it’s concerning,” the little guy, Five, sighed.

“Is he telling the truth?” Marcus spoke up, looking at the so-called Umbrella Academy.

“Well, not the part about us being perfidious-” the other woman started, just to be immediately interrupted by the cowboy-hat guy.

“No, we’re amateur-fidious, at best” he said, which just confused you and, seemingly, the rest of the Sparrows as well.

“But we are his children. This is our house” the woman confirmed.

“Yeah, yeah, we, uh… We grew up here” the big guy jumped in.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we grew up here” Alphonso mocked the guy, which made Fei and Jayme chuckle.

“I-” Sloane started. “Kinda think we would’ve noticed you.”

You could see the moment that the big guy realized who talked and just what kind of person she was. You saw his eyes light up and a dumb smile graced his features.

“Hi. I’m Luther” he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Monkey-brain” you whispered and Ben scoffed.

“Okay” the stylish woman walked towards you. “None of you belong here.”

“What?” you asked at the same time Fei said sarcastically: “Oh, well then! I guess we’ll just pack our bags and move out.”

“Yeah and while we’re at it, how about we also give you our jobs. Clearly, you are so good at it” Christopher garbled. “Seriously, these idiots can’t even understand the fact that we are the ones living here, imagine what kind of heroes they are.”

This caused the Sparrows to laugh and even you let out a chuckle. He had a point.

“You slay me, Chris,” Ben shook his head.

The next moment Grace arrived with a plate filled with cookies. At her legs was your chonky cat C/n. He meowed lowly and hissed at the new people before darting across the space, toward Ben and you.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Grace sighed as you leaned down to pick up C/n. “This is the best I could do on short-” she glitched and repeated the word again, “short… short notice.”

You winced as you stood up with C/n in your arms.

“It’s okay, darling boy” you whispered and started stroking his back. “They won’t hurt you. Daddy won’t let them.”

“Mom…” you heard wallmart-batman’s wistful voice, which immediately weirded you out.

And not just you, because Jayme spoke up as well.

“Mom? She’s a robot you perv” she scoffed.

“She’s not a robot!” wallmart-batman turned toward her defensively.

“Hey, don’t you call him that!” the big guy, Luther, snapped at Jayme.

“Or what?” Ben asked in defense of Jayme.

“Come closer and find out!” Luther stepped toward Ben as he started approaching the big guy as well.

“Luther! Guys, chill!” the smaller woman tried to stop Luther, while you reached out to stop Ben.

“Think I’m afraid?” Ben asked and you could feel his hostility roll off of him.

“Ben! Please” you asked him timidly, but your voice didn’t even reach him.

“Ben, stand down!” Marcus commanded, but Luther was speaking over him already and chaos started to form.

“Look at that, she’s got a voice!” he pointed at you.

“How about I hide that big Rubik’s Cube up your ass?” wallmart-batman asked, annoyed with Marcus.

“Enough!” Marcus finally shouted. “I don’t know what circus you escaped from,” Marcus started and you could see wallmart-batman touch his cheek, where something black just disappeared, “or how you got past our security, but we’re done here. You got 30 seconds to get out of our house” he said in a no-nonsense voice.

“And if we don’t?” the stylish woman asked just as you realized what was happening with wallmart-batman. You looked back at Jayme, who just shrugged.

“Then we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way” Marcus stepped forward, ever the leader.

You zeroed in on wallmart-batman, who looked totally out of it, sweat on his forehead and tears in his eyes.

“What did he hallucinate?” you whispered to Jayme.

“I’ll tell you later” she smirked.

“Look, we just fought a literal army. Okay?” the short woman tried to diffuse the situation. “This doesn’t need to get ugly. Let’s all just calm down and let’s talk.”

And honestly, you were on her side. You didn’t want to risk the house or your sibling-in-laws or C/n for that matter. This could definitely be…

“Psst. Ben-er-ino” cowboy hat guy sing-songed as he looked at your husband. You could see his shoulders tense even more and an exasperated sigh left him. “You look so much better alive than you do dead.”

Oh no…

“Am I right?” cowboy hat guy asked from the Umbrellas and the only thing you could do is wince. From this point onward you wished that he shut up because even you wouldn’t be able to stop your husband if he was angered by the guy. “Except the haircut” he waved his hands.

“Oh no” you winced as Alphonso reached out and pushed you even further from the Umbrellas to keep you safe. He knew just as well as any of the Sparrows: this is where it gets ugly.

“What the hell did you just say?” Ben stepped forward.

“Come on, come on!” cowboy hat guy walked toward Ben. “Stop with all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants” he stopped in front of your husband and leaned forward. “Oh, nice scar! Muy macho.”

“Oof” you commented and you could hear Jayme scoff as well.

“Shut. Your. Mouth!” Ben snarled and you knew, only a string held his anger.

“You shut your mouth and hug your brother!” cowboy hat guy exclaimed and opened his arms for a hug. And that’s exactly when Ben struck.

It was truly a beautiful hook that Ben delivered, you had to admit. But you wished that cowboy hat would’ve just stopped before it got ugly. You watched as he fell across the coffee table and it caused Luther to snap at Ben.

“Hey! What the hell?” he snapped. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I did!” Ben snapped back.

“That’s right, he did!” Alphonso backed him up.

“Hey, get back! Back off!” Marcus shouted as Luther stepped closer.

“Luther!” you heard the short woman yell out as Jayme grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the counter, just as Marcus pushed Luther.

And all hell broke loose. Marcus and Luther started fighting and the Sparrows and Umbrellas paired up as well.

“Jayme, get Y/n out of here!” Ben yelled as the small Umbrella teleported toward him and started fighting with him.

You could hear yelling from both the Sparrows and the Umbrellas as they fought and you could only try to stay calm as Jayme pulled you toward the exit. But you didn’t get far as the stylish woman intercepted you and Jayme, along with the short woman. You ducked just in time as one of Fei’s ravens dived in to try and attack the stylish woman, who immediately took up the fight.

“Sloane!” Jayme yelled out and pushed you toward the woman. “Take care of her! I have a shorter problem.”

This, C/n didn’t like and he jumped out of your hands, scratching them in the process.

“Ouch!” you hissed, holding it.

“C’mon Y/n, let’s get you out of here!”

“Alright” you nodded, frantic now that the chaos started to get to you.

You could hear Jayme knock the short woman down as Sloane tried to lead you toward the stairs. But that’s exactly where Fei and the stylish lady were fighting.

“Uh… okay, plan B” Sloane stepped back and looked up at the balcony.

“Oh, please, no” you tried to plead with her. “You know I don’t…”

“Just get to your room, we’ll get you, when we’re done here” she promised and you felt her powers wrap you up and lift you toward the balcony.

You landed behind the railing and stood up. That’s when you heard the short woman say: “My turn.”

You could see her turning… white? And you knew you had to flee. Before much else could happen though, Sloane used her powers on her as well, though less gentler than she did on you.

“Shit!” you yelled out as the short woman slammed into the pictures behind you as you ducked, afraid.

But just as you stumbled through the short hallway to be able to turn right, a knife whizzed by you and you soon heard Chris’s garbled yelling.

“Y/n, be careful!”

You looked back and saw him getting chased by wallmart-batman. You quickly fell to the left, where you could turn down the corner. Just in time, because in the next moment, Chris also turned that way, knives shooting toward him. You held your head for a second, trying to gather all your courage to move. You’ve never been this close to a fight, Ben always made sure that you were in a safe distance.

“Okay, Y/n, you have to move” you told yourself, gripping your hair. You screwed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then you stood up and sneaked toward the walkway.

But just as you reached the main staircase that led down, you bumped into the boy. Quite literally.

“Oh, you…” he narrowed his eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me” you put your arms up, in front of your face.

“You’re harmless?” the boy arched an eyebrow, suspicious of your surrender.

“I swear! I’m just Ben’s wife, a normal human!” you pleaded.

The next moment he flashed away. You flinched, but the punch never came. Instead you heard the swooshing sound three more times and he was back at the portraits. You peered over the railing to see Jayme approach him and the stylish lady. Before you could be spotted by stylish lady, you ducked back down and continued sneaking away from the scene.

“Hey!” you were almost at the end of the hall, when you heard her yell. You tried moving forward, but she was faster. She grabbed the back of your shirt, lifting you up.

“Please, please, please, don’t hurt me” you whimpered. “I’m no one, I’m just a simple girl!”

“Yeah I don’t believe that, Jennifer!” she accused you.

“That’s the second time you called me that, but I don’t…” you breathed as you felt her grip tighten on you. “I swear I don’t know who she is! I’m just Y/n!”

“Well…”

But stylish lady couldn’t say much more as Fei appeared on the stairs.

“Y/n!” she yelled for you. “Leave her alone, you bitch!”

“That’s not a nice thing to say!” stylish lady let go of you. “I heard a rumor you couldn’t move” she whispered over you and instantly, you froze.

You couldn’t move, only watch as Fei approached her and her ravens started multiplying. Stylish lady saw this and her eyes widened.

“Actually, on second thought, screw this” she said, turning around and making a run for it.

You were left there by her, still unable to move.

“Y/n, I’ll deal with her and take care of you” Fei leaned down to you as she reached you. “I promise I’ll avenge this.”

You could only look forward as Fei left you once again. You could hear the commotion behind you as Fei’s ravens started destroying a door somewhere close to you. Not much later you actually heard the familiar swooshing sound of the boy teleporting and his frantic muttering.

Suddenly whatever spell was placed on you was broken and you fell forward.

“Oh God” you sighed out, grabbing at your elbow which you hit as you fell. You also saw the dried blood on the back of your hand where C/n scratched you. Poor kitten was probably scared out of his mind.

“Vanya, get out of there!” you suddenly heard the boy shout and you slowly stood up to peer over the railing, into the living room.

There lay the short woman on the broken table and the Sparrows slowly surrounded him. You saw her breathing hard and groaning, trying to get back up. Suddenly she started glowing white. You couldn’t make sense of it, but knew it couldn’t be any good.

“Ben, be careful!” you shouted just before she… exploded? Her energy exploded, which threw you back to the railing behind you.

It was over before you knew it and could hear the others groaning and getting up from the debris.

“Oh god…” you heard Chris garble. “What the hell was that?”

Marcus appeared in your vision and offered a hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better” you groaned, accepting his hand. He pulled you up and led you to the balcony, where he looked down at the destruction.

“It’s over” he started. “Go. Don’t come back.”

You could only focus on Ben, who stood in front of the fireplace, clutching his side. Marcus sighed next to you as him and the rest of the Sparrows watched the woman, Vanya, exit.

“Y/n” Marcus turned to you. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Grace, she’ll fix you up.”

You nodded silently, sparing another look at your husband and his family standing in the debris.

You sighed as you exited the bathroom. It’s been about an hour since you got stitched by Grace (when you hit the railing it split the skin on your head open) and then you went to take a shower to freshen up. Meanwhile though, your husband was nowhere to be found around you.

You could only guess that they got a dressing down from Marcus, blaming them for the destruction. So you headed to the only place where you knew they could be: the training room.

“Y/n!” you heard Grace’s voice call out as you headed toward the room. “Do you need a smoothie too?”

“No thanks, Grace” you smiled at the robot. “I’m fine. Is that for the guys?”

“Of course, they need their greens for their training” she said as she caught up with you.

You nodded silently and opened the door in front of you.

“The skinny one is their weak link” you heard Fei say as you entered.

“Unless hiding behind couches shouting, ‘Where’s my daddy?’ is his superpower” Ben replied sarcastically.

Grace put the tray down on the table and you leaned against the wall to watch your husband stop the treadmill and slow to a walk before getting off of it.

“Enough post-gaming. They hurt Y/n and disrespected us!” he said as he walked toward you. “We need to be out there finding these freaks and taking ‘em out!”

He reached you and put an arm around you, kissing your forehead gently, which contrasted so much from his harsh words.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Marcus asked and switched whatever video was playing to the surveillance footage of the last moment of the fight. The others sighed and stopped their treadmills as well. Marcus walked in front of them and shook his head. “Can someone explain to me how you got your asses handed to you in 30 seconds?”

You sighed, massaging Ben’s back as he stiffened at Marcus’s admonishments.

“Do you have any idea what would happen to our reputation if anyone had seen that?!” he yelled at the end, pointing to the TV screen. “I mean we hadn’t faced any decent enemies for years. This could be good for us. Good for business. But only if we’re smart with our next moves.”

“Is that all you care about?” you spoke up suddenly, annoyed to see that the version of him that only cared about missions and being famous came out.

“I’m sorry?” he turned toward you.

“Did you even try to think about what these people could be here for? That what they were saying is true?”

“Y/n…” Ben shushed you. “Don’t make things worse, darling.”

“I’m not trying to. But did you even notice their faces? When they were talking, when they looked at you?” you looked at him. “The way they fought? I mean tell me if their style doesn’t seem familiar…”

“Y/n, this discussion is not for you. Our next move is not for you to decide” Marcus spoke up sternly. “You are not a Sparrow. You are not part of the team.”

“Fine” you gritted your teeth, then pulled out of Ben’s arms and turned around, just as Reginald came in.

“Nice one dipshit” Ben snarled at Marcus.

“You summoned, Number One?” Reginald asked Marcus.

Marcus regarded Ben and you for a second, before looking at Reginald.

“Sit” he said and you walked out.

You leaned against the wall as the door closed behind you and took a deep breath. You thought about all that the Umbrellas said before the fight ensued. And one thing stuck out.

It looked like they recognised you. But not all of them. And they called you… someone. Some other name… what was it?

Oh yeah, Jennifer. But who was this Jennifer?

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Taglist: @divergentnewt23, @evie2407, @snixx2088, @inkedeye2345

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x you #ben hargreeves x y/n #ben hargreeves #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n #the umbrella academy ben #tua ben #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben x you #sparrow!ben x y/n #sparrow!ben

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 10 months ago

Text

Have you had enough?

Targaryen reader x Aemond Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen.

Your husband and brother, Aemond, have been taking everything that belonged to Aegon. You're tired of it, the drop that spilled the glass was Aegon's incident. Your brother, the one who you actually love, badly injured, that was the end of your patience.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to, I took them from the Tumblr blogs: bbygirl-aemond / Winterswake/ tarth. Grammatical and spelling errors, I haven't watched this chapter of HOTD yet, I just needed to take the idea out of my mind so I can continue with a new chapter of the story (By fire and heart).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Everybody running and walking from one room to another, you didn't understand at first why all the scandal until you saw a group of guards carrying your brother.

Aegon and you were close, spending much time together which your mother clearly didn't see with good eyes, you loved him in the way you couldn't love your husband.

Aemond took you as a wife and treated you with respect but not love, he never loved you, he simply took you because both were single and your little brother was far away from home to save you from that terrible unhappy marriage, it was only you and him, when he heard about your little secret romance with Aegon, he made you his wife before you could dishonor yourself that was his argument, but the truth was he did it for the simple fact to not give Aegon the satisfaction to also be the owner of you, or your body, silly Aemond never thought what actually mattered it was your heart, Aegon was deep inside your heart. A thousand men could be between your legs but only one could have your heart, loyalty and devotion.

You walked behind the guards questioning what happened. None of them could answer you, once they're in the king's chambers, one of the masters asks you to not interfere and wait out of the room.

- My princess, please you have to wait and let us work. In your conditions the least you need is stress.

You're going to respond when you see Aemond walking inside, he doesn't even stop to see you, you're sure he didn't listen to what the master told you, he walks directly to Aegon's bed. You walk and stay behind him, your tears falling as soon as you see your beloved brother, his precious face now half burned as much as the rest of his body, you're sure Aemond was behind all that, you left the room looking for Ser Criston, you found him on the way to your mother's chambers.

- What happened?

- My princess, I don't know, everything was fast, I just saw the king and his dragon falling.

- Don't dare to lie to me. Did my husband have something to do with this?

He doesn't talk but silently nod at you. Your body is burning with rage, you're furious you would love to burn your husband alive. His thirst for... power? Revenge for the traumas of childhood? Whatever it was, has taken it too far. Your nephews death and now your brother fighting for his life, Rhaenyra claiming the throne, dealing with a war and the pain of her newborn and Lucerys deaths, the poor Helaena trying to accept her son's death too and now carrying with a husband who probably will end as your father ended, in that bed looking the days and nights go until the gods have mercy and let him die.

You've been avoiding Aemond since they arrived, you spent much of your time with Aegon, Helaena doesn't complain, she's okay with it, she always knew your feelings for her husband, she's glad you're taking care of him and occasionally visit the king's chambers to help you or at least to talk with you. Even your mother visited Aegon, but there were no signs of Aemond.

Until one evening, you were holding Aegon's hand, whispering something close enough to him hoping he somehow could listen to what you were sharing with him, when the doors of his room opened, you did not see him but you were sure it was Aemond for the sound of his boots on the floor, you know his way to walk by heart.

- Ao spend olvie jēda kesīr (you spend much time here)

- Se ao spend olvie jēda sitting va zȳhon dēmalion (And you spend much time sitting on his throne)

You don't Even look at him, you're still holding Aegon's hand, contemplating what once was his face.

- Perhaps my wife could support me as much as she's supporting our brother. Your devotion to him is admirable, but it's what I'm expecting you to give me, not to him.

- Why would I support you? All the atrocities you've been causing and you expect me to congratulate you, to love you?

- Are you accusing me of something, wife?

His jaw tensed, his eye looks at you full of anger.

- Don't pretend you're innocent, I know you. You always wanted to take Aegon's place. You always take what is not yours, tell me husband, have you had enough? What else do you want?

Before he can argue again, Aegon opens his eyes, with the few strength he still has, he squeezes your hand.

Aemond notices it and pushes you aside, he starts to talk with Aegon, asking him what he remembers, he insists it wasn't his dragon who attacked him. Aegon simply says he doesn't remember anything, but you know he's lying, Aegon always has been good to keep himself safe, his facility to preserve his own survival and right now his only chance to survive it was to pretend he did not remember what happened.

Aemond was not going to leave the discussion in the air. He left but you're sure he will be back to try to make you regret your accusations.

Just as you predicted, At the hour of the owl, he appeared in your chambers, you were awake, looking through your window, you know how much he hates your indifference against him.

- So, what else will you take from our brother this time?

You say without any worry. Aemond walks until he's right behind you, you can feel his jaw against your head.

- What he expected to claim too. You.

He whispered while placing his hands around your waist, you couldn't contain your laughing, Aemond confusion made it harder to keep. You laughed loudly on his face, you are now face to face with your husband, he has never seen that look, your eyes darkened and your smile was full of evil, giving him a small kiss on the lips, murmuring almost whispering.

- Oh Aemond, do you seriously think I was still a pure untouched little princess?

He stepped back, his face doesn't show any emotion but you can feel his blood boiling.

- I am pregnant.

- Liar. I made everything to be sure he would not put a finger on you.

- Ask the master, I'm waiting for my first child.

Seeing his body tensed and full of anger brings you a new kind of feeling, it's an addictive pleasure you didn't know could exist.

-You know what makes it funnier? Even if one day I have your child, he will be just like you.

- What do you mean?

- A Second son who will not inherit anything. Or even better you will never have a child with me because I will prefer to be burned alive before giving birth to your children.

He quickly takes you by the neck and slams you against the wall, pressing his body against yours, even with the lack of air in your lungs, the pleasure of seeing him frustrated makes you feel alive, excited. He released you and left the room without saying more.

Once you take some air, you smile to yourself, your husband and his poor try to keep you away from Aegon, expecting to have you all for himself, but not even your body belongs to Aemond, he never thought he would be so frustrated about such a little thing like that, not having your love or your respect was the last thing he thought he would care about, the last thing he would desire to have more than anything else.

412 notes · View notes

hughes86-43 · 1 year ago

Text

“Wifey” | J.Hughes

warnings - none! just some grammar mistakes!

The off-season had just started a little over two weeks ago, with everything from getting stuffed packed to trying to get everyone in at the same time, you and Jack were finally able to get everybody around for an end of season party at the lake house.

That morning you got everything ready for the day with getting the food that was being catered that day correct to Jack setting up extra table and chairs with Quinn and Luke. You easily had at least 50 people coming tonight. With family members coming and everyone’s friends coming, you had to make sure everything was perfect.

Ellen and Jim arrived earlier in the day to help set everything up. It was around 5pm, when several people began showing up. Trevor, Cole, and Alex showed up with extra beer and wine. Your parents and brothers showed up closely after. Soon enough, there a good mixture of your family and friends and a bunch of hockey players that the guys knew were around and that were their friends.

You were sitting on Jack’s lap in the backyard talking to Trevor, Cole and Alex. Jack has his arms wrapped around your waist and playing with a loose string on your crop top. You had one hand wrapped around his neck while also drinking a few sips of your beer with the other.

“Dude! I had no idea the lady was even right there! I just bumped right into her!” Trevor says while recounting a story about how he accidentally bumped into a lady causing her to spill her drink everywhere.

Cole’s laughing at him. “Did you at least pay to get her another drink?!”

“Yeah, yeah I did. Although, she could’ve at least said she was behind me so I didn’t bump into her!” The whole situation has you and Jack in a complete laughing fit.

Trying to catch your breath, you say, “Or she recognized you and planned it all along so that she could talk to you!” Trevor all of a sudden gets wide eyed which causes the boys to laugh even more.

“You know, I think you’re right! She kept looking at me up and down like she was checking me out!”

“Trev, you were literally wearing the weirdest outfit combination…. Sweatpants with your suit jacket and a button up shirt!” Cole says, causing even more laughter.

Deciding that you needed to check on everyone else to see if they were okay, you get up off of your boyfriends lap. He gives you a pouty face as you do. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back I just want to check up on everyone else and also use the bathroom.” You run your hand through his hair.

He gives you a nod and squeeze to your thigh. “Okay, just don’t be long! I can only be around Trevor for so long!”

“Hey!”

“Oh, you know I only joke!” Jack says to a pouty Trevor. “She’s my wife, of course I’d want her around more than you!” You just laugh and tousle his hair again when he calls you that.

“She’s not your wife yet! You two aren’t even engaged.” Trevor says trying to lift his feelings up.

“Well, she will be soon enough! We live together, we may as well be married!”

“Okay, boys,” You say trying to calm them down. “You two continue arguing, Cole and Alex I expect you two to stop them from fighting, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Let me know if you need me, wifey!” Jack says with a smirk, while also turning to see Trevor’s reaction. He just shakes his head.

You couldn’t help but to laugh to yourself as you walk into the house to talk to everyone.

While your gone, Trevor and Jack have stopped arguing for a bit.

Trevor asks Jack, “So, you’re going to ask her to marry you, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I asked her dad earlier tonight while she was busy. It seemed like the perfect time to ask him since everyone is here and she wouldn’t notice. I have the ring hid in the back of my closet under some hockey stuff.”

The boys are smiling so big at him. “She’s definitely the one for you Jacky.” Cole says while patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s the only that has ever laughed at your jokes, even when they’re so bad!” Alex jokes.

“Oh, shush! Just don’t say anything or be suspicious about it. I still don’t know when I’ll fully ask.”

“Ask what?” You say when you made your way back onto Jack’s lap.

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he smiles, “Oh, just when I’m going to ask Luke if he has a crush on that one girl he has been talking to.” He hopes he played that off well.

“Oh yeah! He’s totally into her, you should see them inside!” Seeing that he played it off well, he lets out a breath and lays his head on your shoulder, laughing at your story of Luke and his seemingly new crush inside.

#jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #hockey fic #my fics

658 notes · View notes

love-belle · 2 years ago

Text

always, evermore, even after and still !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they get married and it's the happiest day for everyone.

for when you finally find your happily ever after. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like this!!! i love you so much, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 2,826,998 others

vogue charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n tie the knot in a grand yet intimate ceremony held at their villa in monte carlo.

the bride wore a valentino couture gown complete with a sprawling train and platform heels while the groom sported a classic black tuxedo. y/n’s childhood best friend, lily muni he, served as the maid of honour, whereas her close friends, carmen mundt, kika gomes and heidi berger were bridesmaids. on the groom's side, lorenzo leclerc, his brother was the best man along while his younger brother, arthur and his friend circle, which included lando norris, pierre gasly, carlos sainz and alex albon were the groomsmen. the guest list included many notable presences such as sebastian vettel, toto wolff, taylor swift, zendaya, timothée chalamet, harry styles and many more.

the couple’s first dance was to the song "love letter from the sea to the shore" performed by delaney bailey followed by "it's nice to have a friend" by taylor swift and "sweet creature" by harry styles.

tap the link in our bio to get a look inside their wedding held at their stunning villa in monaco.

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 796,528 others

landonorris my two best friends got married and i'm about to make it everybody's problem. congratulations, you horny motherfuckers. don't remember much of last night but as i'm sitting in a cafe in berlin, i know it ruled. here's to a lifetime of happiness, love and blessings and may this marriage not end in a divorce (y/n, lily still has that taxi driver on speed dial, say the word and we'll help you run away)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

8,638 comments

username stfu im gonna cry

username i feel like a proud parent omg

username we've come so far 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username not lando violating charles on his own wedding post 💀💀💀

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them so much my lord

lilymhe you can still escape just sayin yourusername

-> yourusername i'll keep that in mind, thank you 💋

-> charles_leclerc is it too late to get a divorce

-> yourusername shut up you literally (and legally) signed up for this

username are we gonna ignore that fact that the wedding was in monte carlo and lando's in berlin

-> username how the FUCK did that happen

-> username i just know that the party was WILD

username "may this marriage not end in a divorce" PLS 💀💀💀

username the photos ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username im living for the wedding content we're getting from like half the grid

maxverstappen1 berlin is nice

-> landonorris i know right?

-> username NOT MAX BEING IN BERLIN TOO WTF HAPPENED LAST NIGHT

username the event of the century 🔥🔥🔥

username THEY LOOK SO AMAZING WHATCTHRBUCJ

username in love with these

username god i need a life like this ://

charles_leclerc at least i had a gf and now i have a wife (thanks for the photos but i'm not paying you)

-> landonorris that's a fucked up thing to say to me (i literally hate you so much)

username fuck all the love stories except theirs

username my heart ://

username they SCREAM old money

-> username OMG THAT'S SO REAL

yourusername thank you for these pictures. we love you. take the train back to monte carlo rn or i am giving your gift to george. and thanks for the driver information, will keep that in mind definitely.

-> landonorris anytime. i love you both i guess. DON'T YOU DARE and of course, happy to help.

-> charles_leclerc DELETE THAT NUMBER RIGHT NOW

username charles has been married for one (singular) day and he's already fighting for his life 💀💀💀💀💀

username i love this friend group so much ❤️

username THEY BOTH ATE OMG

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 892,728 others

lilymhe in my head, we're still those teen girls who planned out their wedding days with so much enthusiasm and with so much detail that it would've put these planners and binders to shame. it's kinda hard to believe that my best friend is now married but honestly, y/n/n, i couldn't be more happy for you. you're my best friend and i love you so much. thank you for being just a call away, always. here's to charles (barf) and y/n (❤️)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,926 comments

username SHUT UP IM CRYING

username platonic soulmates ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

username she's so pretty what the fuck

username Y/N ATE

carmenmmundt the prettiest bride 💕

*liked by lilymhe*

username two pretty best friends 🔥🔥🔥

username y/n looks so pretty what thebfuck omg im gonna scream

username my favs ://

username nah cus lily and y/n literally have my heart like they're my fav pair of best friends

charles_leclerc i remember when you threatened me

-> lilymhe good. remember it for the rest of your life.

-> charles_leclerc y/n she's doing that thing again yourusername

-> yourusername lily

-> lilymhe sorry

-> username NAH NOT CHARLES SNITCHING ON LILY

username she slayed so hard

username the barf and the ❤️ spoke VOLUMES

username im gonna cry they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i wish i had a best friend like lily ://

alex_albon i never get captions like this

-> lilymhe this isn't about you

-> yourusername yeah alex this isn't about you

username y/n's childhood best friend being her maid of honour 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username in love with these two

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

yourusername i love you SO fucking much

-> lilymhe i love you so much more

yourusername i'll love you always thank you for everything ❤️‍🩹

-> lilymhe you're my best friend, always here for you and your loser ass boyfriend

-> charles_leclerc I'M HER HUSBAND

-> lilymhe okay and??? she can get another one

-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD

username i adore their friendship tf

username don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo i had one (1) job and as you can see, i took it very seriously. mr and mrs. leclerc-y/l/n, everybody 💒🍧💐

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,682 comments

username LECLERC-Y/L/NS

username THEY'RE SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them sm what the fuck

username my parents ❤️🫶🏼

username LOVING THE WEDDING CONTENT WE'RE BRING FED RN

username she looks so pretty omg ☹️☹️☹️

maxverstappen1 why are you acting like your ass isn't in berlin with us?

-> danielricciardo THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET YOU SNITCH

username WHAT THEBFUCJ HAPPENED LAST NIGJT 💀💀💀💀💀 why are they in berlin

-> username oh the night was wildin 🔥🔥🔥

username daniel.jpg but on main

username love them sm

username SO HAPPY FOR THEM AHSHDHSJDJBS

username living for this content

landonorris berlin kinda cool

*liked by danielricciardo*

username WHY are they in berlin

-> username no it's HOW are they in berlin

username no bc i feel like such a proud mom like i watched go from "hiii/hiiiiiii" to "hehehehe i do/shut up charles, i do"

-> username that's what i call GROWTH

username her dresses ate omg

username i know daniel's not getting paid for shit

username im so ://

charles_leclerc lovely photos mate

-> danielricciardo so will you pay me?

-> charles_leclerc no

username AHHHSHDHDHDHXHXJDJDF

username gonna sob some more

username honestly crying tears rn

yourusername we love you daniel 🫶🏼 (get your ass back to monaco i am NOT kidding)

-> danielricciardo love you guys (omg we're on our way stop you scare me sometimes)

username IM NOT NORMAL ABT THIS

username fav couple

username thank u to daniel for these

-> username doing god's word fr

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and 2,826,418 others

yourusername words cannot express how much i love you. every single time i think that this is it, i cannot possibly love you more than i do, i'm surprised by myself because i do. i really do. i fall in love with you more and more every single day and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life showing you that. i loved you when you first told me that you really liked my smile and i loved you when you told me you hoped i lived nearer to you and then asked me to move in. i loved you when you took the time to get to know me and i loved you when you said that i was it for you and i will love you when our hair is turning gray and we're gonna look back and smile and fall in love even more. they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes i swear. i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it. here's to my forever love, my everything, my world. i love you ❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

17,527 comments

username GOODNIGHT

username WHAT THR FUCK

username im gonna sob this is so

username they're married 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username people say soulmates we say y/n and charles

username sliding down the door fr this is INSANE

charlotte2304 all my love to you both 💓

*liked by yourusername*

username HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL LIKE

username they're MY parents

username the caption took my heart out and squeezed it

username hahahahaha!!!!! i am NOT okay!!!!!!! what the fuck is up with that caption

sebastianvettel 💐💕

*liked by yourusername*

username he's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it" WHEN WILL IT BE ME

username "they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes" me and who lol (i am screaming crying shaking)

username no bc i too deserve someone like this ://

username it's giving timeless by taylor swift

*liked by yourusername*

username they're so taylor swift coded

username GOD ME WHEN

username gonna take a toaster bath brb 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

username don't test me istg

carla.brocker my heart 😭🩷

*liked by yourusername*

arthur_leclerc sister-in-law 💒🩷

*liked by yourusername*

username IM GONNA SCREAM WHAT THE FUXK

username MY parents 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username he's so husband coded ❤️‍🩹

username microwaving a spoon brb

charles_leclerc i love you so much it's unbelievable just how much

-> yourusername i adore you and every part of you

charles_leclerc my forever love ❤️ cannot wait to grow old with you

-> yourusername forever has never sounded so good ❤️

username gonna be thinking abt this for the rest of my life just so u know

username they're setting the standards so high i can't do it anymore what the fuck

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,826,318 others

charles_leclerc i honestly don't know what to say. you're my biggest dream, my wife and now that i'm saying it, it sounds so surreal. i have waiting been an entire lifetime to say these words and the fact that it's you in this lifetime (and all the others), is just amazing. i wish i had known you sooner, so that i wouldn't have to spend all those years looking for love in places where it couldn't possibly be. my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad. i hope that one day, when we're old and aged and have seen a thousand sunsets, you ask me if i love you and my answer will forevermore will be always, evermore, even after and still.

tagged yourusername

16,628 comments

username I CANNOT DO THIS RN

username everyone stfu im gonna cry

username english lang is so weird bc u say true love and it translates to y/n and charles

username nah the bar is too high atp im giving up

username SHE'S SO PRETTY MA GAWD

username the fact that they're now the leclerc-y/l/ns 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lewishamilton so happy for you both 💐💒

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username "my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad" why am i crying.

username they're the blueprint for all love stories from now on btw

username I LOBE THEM SO MUVH WHAT GHE FUCK THEY'RE MU PARENTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 😭 😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

usernames no bc the way all the photos are of random moments and this leads me to believe that charles just whips out his camera whenever y/n is just There and now im crying again

-> username he's just like us fr

-> username i too would play paparazzi for y/n is given the chance he's not the only one ://

carla.brocker coolest sister in law (best friend) 🫶🏼

-> yourusername carla i love you 😭

username still in disbelief they r married tbh

username i feel like we watched them grow up im so emotional 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username she's so pretty i could sob

username why did u think that it was okay for u to post this.

username i am not okay

lorenzotl 🤍💐

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username SHE'S SO PRETTY

username charles won at life fr

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username caption called me single and lonely in 26836282727 languages 💔💔💔💔💔

username bro woke up and chose to destroy shakespeare with that caption 💀💀💀

landonorris loved the wedding 👍 i woke up in berlin

-> charles_leclerc the wedding was in monaco???

-> maxverstappen1 i know

-> danielricciardo we obviously had some ideas and now i have an ugly tattoo and there's a ring pop on my finger

-> landonorris max has one too

-> charles_leclerc YOU MARRIED MAX

-> danielricciardo NO

-> maxverstappen1 NO

-> yourusername this is hilarious

username i need to see more pictures from the wedding I NEED TO

username i love my wife (i am delusional)

yourusername i have already loved you for a thousand years ❤️

-> charles_leclerc here's to a thousand more ❤️

yourusername i love you so much like you're my person and i just love you so fucking much :/

-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more mon chéri

username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username IM SO AHJHSJSHDHDJSKDJD

username im gonna cry brb

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc blurb

2K notes · View notes

berberriescorner · 1 year ago

Text

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies. Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes.

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea. Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip.

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

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