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ldysmfrst · 16 hours ago

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American Mate (16) - We are Alphas

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 16 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 6,822

Work count for Story: 130,009

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, Alphas fronting, and discussions of the past. There are cuddles in this one, figured it was needed after the last chapter. FYI, I swear the Bangtan boys wrote this chapter, not me!

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Sit down, Taehyung-ah,” orders Namjoon just as the tiger hybrid is about to get up and follow you to your den. “You already have given her enough to deal with. Tailing after her could very well push her in a direction, and with how things are, we don’t know if it will be a good one or not.”

With a frustrated sigh and a pout, Taehyung says, “I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He then turns around and leans against the couch instead—his thoughts, along with everyone else's, spiral in several different directions. The internal loud silence that fills the living room reveals how flustered and perplexed the seven hybrids are.

“Can someone please convince me that our ladymate didn’t just tell us, in a roundabout way, that she wanted to stay with Hyung and me this morning?” Jimin asks in a soft but desperate voice. His fluffy, striped tail switches between an excited swishing to a nervous flicking motion while he waits for someone to agree with him out loud.

Unfortunately, his request is met with an even louder silence. Their thoughts, having agreed with Jimin’s, have played out more than what would be considered an unhealthy amount of possible outcomes from that particular situation. While this seems to be a step in the right-ish direction, the pack is still in what they consider unstable and uncharted territory.

Well, to be honest, this whole situation was uncharted territory for the seven of them because their new mate was A—a female and B—a human. So much information has been gathered in such a short time that has to be processed and addressed, but how? When?

Those who went to the pack meeting with your Family pack haven’t had the chance to share what they learned with the rest of the bonded mates, which allows them to have a better understanding and even more desire to soothe, heal, and support you. However, it was agreed that they would wait until they could guarantee privacy from staff.

As the silence continues in the living room with their minds occupied, their ears intently focus on you. They can’t hear anything from your den, which indicates that you, like them, are a bit off-center about this meeting, or so they hope.

After what seems like an eternity, the soft padding of your footfalls finally indicates that you have reached some point in your thoughts that allows you to move and not be frozen. It allows a release of the tension surrounding the bonded mates. As the energy becomes less heightened, Jungkook crawls into Yoongi’s lap with a hand stroking Taehyung’s hair, seeking comfort. The soft exhales from some of them break the silence, along with the rustling of clothes as they relax into their seats.

“I think,” hesitantly starts Hoseok. “I think we need to do a few things with her. We can’t just keep thinking that she is fully educated on hybrid customs and behaviors like our past playmates because she isn’t. She isn’t educated properly, nor is she a playmate.”

“I also think she needs to learn to love herself more,” frowns Hoseok, his eyes drilling holes into the carpet.

“You noticed that, too? I think her family did an excellent job of crushing any kind of self-awareness or self-love for herself,” Yoongi says with a hint of snarl in his voice. “As her Alphas and her mates, it’s our job to ensure that she not only understands how exquisite she is to us but she also needs to see it with her own eyes.”

Nodding, Hoseok adds, “I think I can help that. I mean with my self-image issues from before, I have a personal perspective on what it’s like to experience that kind of pressure, more or less. Also, maybe in time, I can use some of my shibari skills to help with not only her body image issues but her trust as well.”

A collective hum comes from the pack. It’s been several years since Hoseok fought his demons when it came to his looks. For Seokjin and Namjoon, when those pictures of their mate bound in a mask find their way back into circulation because Army does those ‘glow up’ or 'where they started’ comparison shots on TikTok or Instagram, the feeling of failing to support their mate as the leader and the oldest surfaces.

As Jimin sits more comfortably in Seokjin’s lap, he looks at his mates confidently before offering assistance, saying, “I could teach her about nesting, specifically what it means at the hybrid level with all the differences between a den nest and a pack nest, along with the boundaries and such?”

“That is a good idea, Jimin-ah, but you must be delicate about it because of her past,” warns Hoseok. “You can’t just burst in and take over. I don’t want us to treat her like a kit, but at the same time…”

“Her ideas and thought processes are similar to how you were when you first joined us because you were both raised with misinformation or misguidance on acceptable behaviors,” says Yoongi. “I am not sure why her mother’s side of the family would have even associated her ‘blanket forts’ with a nest, though. I guess it was just too close of a behavior.”

Looking at Jimin, Yoongi continues, “I think she can learn a lot from you and Kook-ah. However, I think that, based on how you were raised, you might connect with her better.”

Unlike Jungkook, Jimin doesn’t necessarily like to discuss his past because it is something that he would very much like to forget. It took him almost a year to share details with his bonded mates. Now, lost in his thoughts, Jimin wonders if he should be upfront and detailed about it with you or just allude to what happened.

Jungkook whines at the thought of being unable to connect with you on a deeper level, prompting Taehyung to push against the bunny hybrid’s hand in his hair, saying, “Don’t worry, Kookie. You already have a connection with Y/n that is stronger than the rest of us. I think you might even have a better connection than Yoongi-hyung does.”

Tilting his head up from Yoongi’s lap, Jungkook peers over the arm of the couch at Jimin and snarkily says, “Speaking of my level of connection with Y/n, apparently it isn’t strong enough to garner an invitation into her nest.”

All eyes look to Jimin with hints of jealousy and curiosity, but mostly envy. Putting on a sly smirk and leaning into the eldest’s hold, the memory of your body tangled with his is still fresh in his mind, causing his scent to spike with sweetness. Jimin curves his body against Jin in a way that he knows will get his mates going, but the soft nip from Seokjin on his shoulder makes Jimin roll his eyes and shake his head, saying, “She had a nightmare about her past and the nest.”

“I had decided to sit on guard outside her door because I wanted to be the first mate she saw when she woke up due to what happened when I stepped on Taehyungie’s tail and ruined your night, Namjoon-hyung,” the red panda explains. “I knew something was… wrong when she had gone to sleep on the window bench, not the nest I made for her.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to reassure the younger, but the slight shake of Seokjin’s head stops him, allowing Jimin to continue, “It hadn’t been long before I heard her softly crying and making pained noises as if she were being attacked. When she didn’t respond to me calling her by name, I entered her den and saw…”

Jimin pauses with a gulp. “I saw her in the tiny ball crying, clutching her stomach and whining. I literally had to shake her awake. She took a moment to realize where she was and who I was, but the next thing I knew, she was in my lap,” recalls Jimin. “She didn’t want to talk about it then but wanted the pack meeting to discuss everything with everyone.”

“While this is all and good to know, it doesn’t explain how you ended up sleeping with her,” flatly says Taehyung, who gets a smack to the back of the head by Yoongi. To which he whines, “well, it doesn’t.”

Giggling at the two, Jimin nods, replying, “You're right. When I asked her why she didn’t sleep in the nest when she returned, she answered that it was too perfect to sleep in. So, I carried, not without her complaining of her weight, over to her nest and put her inside.”

“She seemed still tense and expressed how we are so close that she doesn’t want to ruin anything. I explained that she wouldn't ruin anything because she wasn’t a typical playmate but she still didn’t relax in the nest. It worried me, so I… ah… well, I tested the bond,” Jimin says, trailing off.

Shifting to look at Jimin better, Seokjin questions, “Jimin-ah, what did you do?”

“Please tell me you didn’t push yourself on her?” Hoseok asks darkly.

“No! I…” Jimin scoffs. “I asked her if I could join her in the nest. I even told her she could say no, but she didn’t. She relaxed almost immediately, even while keeping a respectful distance aside from holding her hand.”

“You didn’t look so respectfully distant when I found you together this morning,” pointed out the eldest.

“I will get to that,” Jimin rushes out with blush-tinted cheeks. “I shared a bit about our past with playmates. I figured it would help her not to feel so vulnerable with me so close, and it worked because when I went to leave, she asked me to stay. After a rather cute and telling discussion of sleeping arrangements, she had me sleep between her and the door for protection, under the blanket for warmth, and facing each other, but she didn’t give a reason.”

Tilting his head, Jimin continues, “I think it was mostly because she doesn’t want to over step but after today that may change. Anyway, she warned she moves alot in her sleep and I am pretty sure that is how we ended up so entangled.”

“She smelled interested when I joked about having to tie her down if she became a human tornado, Hobi-hyung,” Jimin says, wiggling his eyebrows.

With that, Hoseok grabs Jimin’s hand to head up to his den to discuss how to enact their part of the plan and check to see if Hoseok even brought his ropes with him on this trip—only pausing long enough to look to Namjoon for permission to leave the pack meeting.

Taking in the more relaxed scents of his mates, aside from a spike of nerves and arousal from various makes, Namjoon thinks there isn’t much more that can be done right now. Standing, the Prime Alpha says, “Since Y/n left, I believe the pack meeting can conclude. I encourage everyone to reflect on what was discussed, and if you have a suggestion on how to help or have concerns about anything, you can always reach out to me.”

Seokjin heads to the kitchen to keep busy. Baking is one of the ways he can zone out to process things while still feeling like he hasn’t checked out of being a good mate. Some fresh cookies, non-chocolate, sound like a good idea and can be made on autopilot, or maybe making something for lunch would be good. Opening the fridge, the eldest Alpha decides to make lunch and cookies while he deals with everything from finding Jimin in your bed to the topics of both meetings.

Yoongi pulls Jungkook into his lap more, and the two cuddle into a ball. The attentive jaguar hybrid praises the youngest Alpha for being brave and sharing his past with their new mate. Jungkook blushes and buries his face into Yoongi’s neck with his little fluff of a cotton tail wiggling happily. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall into a light nap as they bask in each other’s warmth after the emotionally draining morning.

Taehyung appears to be deep in thought. The influx of information has affected him more than he outwardly shows. His tail twitches out from under the couch in flicks as his thoughts bounce from one fact to another. He knows that hunting down the ex and the abysmal excuse of a family you have isn’t allowed, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining all the ways he could nor what he would do once he has his claws in them.

Namjoon watches Taehyung with concern etched on his face. After taking in his lack of movement and the warmth of his ebony scent, Namjoon doesn’t think the tiger will do anything, so he leaves him be– for now. Even though Yoongi is focused on their youngest and napping, Namjoon trusts him to wake up and react if Taehyung’s scent changes. The Prime Alpha also trusts the others to help by reining the quick-tempered tiger in or seeking help if anything arises. With a soft sigh, Namjoon decides this might be a good time to discuss a few more personal things with you.

Making his way to your den, the wolf hybrid strains his hearing to try and pick up your heartbeat and breathing since your stressed-out scent is still lingering in the hall. He leans into his instincts as an apex predator and an Alpha to ensure you are, at least physically, in a good spot to take visitors. Unfortunately, it doesn't let him know if you are emotionally or mentally ready for it.

As he listens to your gentle, measured breaths and your calm, rhythmic heartbeats, Namjoon knocks on the door. The rapid footsteps approaching the door make the Alpha question if you had been expecting someone. When the door swings open, Namjoon offers a friendly smile and adopts what he hopes is an open posture to indicate that his visit has a positive purpose.

“Oh, Namjoon, I wasn’t,” you start to say, seemingly caught off guard that he is the one who came. “I mean, is everything okay? I know I kinda rushed out of there. I didn’t even close the pack meeting, I just more or less bolted which isn’t proper of me. I should know better, I mean, I do know better.”

“Y/n, Angel, everything is good. I think the meeting was a good idea and we covered a lot of… deep topics,” He answers, trying to reassure you. “May I enter your den?”

Jumping slightly and scooting out of the way, you gesture for him to enter, saying, “Of course, how rude of me. Sorry. Umm… you may sit where you wish, Alpha.”

“No need to be sorry. I just wanted to have some…” Namjoon’s voice trails off as he walks in and sees your Jimin-built nest on the bed. He can tell that it’s been used, which gives him a sense of pride because you must find their sense comforting and, hopefully, safe. He knew you slept in it, but seeing it hits differently. Taking a slow, deep breath, he inhales the scents from the nest. The mixture is much richer since adding your sweetpea, almost as if it had been absent the whole time.

You leave the door slightly ajar and turn to face Namjoon. With a tilted head and raised eyebrow, you ask him, "Some?”

His eyes flick between you and the nest before he smiles. Walking to sit on the window bench, he continues his train of thought, “Some time to speak with you again, minus the flashing lights of the red carpet and the other packmates. That is, if it is okay with you?”

“Sure, I will always try to find time for our Prime Alpha,” you answer, missing the flash of forest green eyes at the subtle but unknowing claim you said. As you pull one of the pillows from the window bench to sit on the floor, Namjoon gently tugs on the other end, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gestures to the space beside him. Smiling shyly, you pause mid-squat and sit beside him on the window bench.

Turning to face you, the Alpha looks at you in a way that makes you feel like he is looking through you. It is a look you have seen from Derek and Evie when they are trying to figure you out without actually asking you. His breathing is steady and deep, which tells you he is trying to catch how your emotions are by your scent. Luckily for you and him, your scent is soft sweetpea with the undertone of vanilla, showing that you are no longer flustered or anxious from the pack meeting.

“How are you feeling? After the pack meeting?” asks the Prime Alpha, his instincts leading him to ensure he understands your scent's basics. “Your scent seems to be almost neutral. I assume my being in your den is why there is a perfumed edge to your natural sweetpea.”

Sitting up straight, you shake your head, arguing, “No! I don’t have a problem with you being in my room… ah den. I mean, you are the Prime Alpha and it is your packhouse that I am in. So, you have every right to be able to come into this space.”

“Actually, no. That isn’t correct,” frowns Namjoon. “I will say this, and Jimin will get more into the depths of it later: your space is your space. At any time, if you want to be left alone or not to allow any of us to be allowed into your den you have that right.”

Holding your hand between his two larger hands, he looks at you with a serious but warm gaze. “This is every bit your packhouse as it is mine, Yoongi-hyungs, or any of us,” he says, stroking his thumb across your hand. “You have a voice as strong as any of us regarding your comfort, well-being, and needs.”

Your eyes widen at his statement and cause you to shift in your spot. Swallowing, you shyly smile and answer, “Umm… I sort of got that impression. I know myself well enough to remind myself this is all a temporary thing, but sometimes, with how you all talk, it’s like… I don’t know, Namjoon. It’s just different.”

He has to bite his tongue and try his hardest not to correct your perception of ‘this thing,’ which is very much not just a thing nor temporary. Namjoon wants to confirm that no shit it’s different because you are their mate. He decided it was best not to get into that issue right now with everything you have heard so far, but he is afraid that you won’t hear it from him in the right way if he told you it to begin with. He already botched this once; he doesn't want to do it again. After a moment, Namjoon redirects the conversation to one of the reasons why he came in.

“I wanted to thank you for attending the Gala with me last night,” Namjoon says while looking at your still connected hands. “I also wanted to commend you on how well you handled the situation with the carpet. I should have been in better control of myself but, then again, I haven’t ever taken a… a playmate to an event alone before. That was a first for me.”

Your scent fluffs a bit sweeter as you smile at him. “Thank you, Prime Alpha. I had hoped I did the right thing. I didn’t realize how much my scent would affect you, or I would have tried to keep it calm or turn it off, not that I know how to do that,” you say with your smile faltering. “That was a first for me too, the LACMA Gala and the Alphaing out thing. I am just glad that Jennie-ssi and Jung Jae-ssi were there to show me where to go.”

The memory of Namjoon's koalaing to your back causes you to giggle, which makes said Alpha look at you with a raised eyebrow, and you can’t help but laugh more. “You, ah, got very clingy. You reminded me more of a Koala hybrid than a Wolf hybrid then,” you smile. “It was cute and calming.”

A faint blush colors Namjoon’s face as he pulls his hands out from holding yours. You, however, reach out and hold his hands in yours instead. His eyes are looking at you with a hint of shock and curiosity.

“Namjoon, Prime Alpha,” you start with a soft expression, hoping your scent conveys your sincerity. “I know we started on the wrong foot. Not just you and I, but the whole pack and I. How I became your playmate wasn’t ideal, but it was what you thought was best for your packmates at the time.”

Namjoon goes to jump in, only to have you cut him off and continue by saying, “I know Hoseok thinks you need to grovel and beg me for forgiveness, kinda like how Taehyung is doing, but as the Luna of my family pack, I understand why you did what you did, more or less.”

“No, Y/n,” quietly says Namjoon with a slightly pained look. “It was wrong of me. Utterly wrong of me.”

Now it was your turn to be cut off from trying to excuse him out of feeling guilty when Namjoon stood up and walked away. Without turning back to you, he says, “There is so much… I mean, there are things your family has taught you about hybrids that are a bit awry. I am sure that your family pack has tried to help teach you more things but then again, it’s hard to change something that someone has lived with their whole life.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shifting in your seat. “I know about hybrid stuff. I don’t know about Alpha-specific things, but I can see if I can take a class for that. I am sure PMS will pay for it.”

Shaking his head, Namjoon turns to face you. He looked to the ceiling and ran his hand through his hair, stopping to scratch the back of his wolf ear before he answered, “You have a pack full of Alphas that are more than happy to teach you more accurately than any class will. Jimin-ah said he would enjoy teaching you the hybrid way of nests and boundaries. Hoseok has some ideas about other things, and I am sure the rest of us will find our things to show and teach you.”

“We,” Namjoon pauses, mumbling something about why words do not seem to work well around you before he looks at you and continues, “We don’t want to push you too far too fast, and I am worried we might. Please remember that you always have the right to stop anything we do. If any of us make you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to come to me, and if it’s me, you can talk with one of the hyungs, okay?”

You look at the floor with scrunched brows. “Why is that a recurring thing with you?” you ask, looking up at him with a very concerned look. “Every time we talk about something or do something, someone brings up that I can stop things and say no. Are you trying to make sure I know or are you all trying to remind yourselves that I can?”

Your accusatory tone and the point of your question take back Namjoon. It makes him pause and stare at you as your scent turns more into its perfumed side, meaning he has done nothing towards settling things with you and only makes you worry more. Rubbing his hand down his face, he lets out a low growl of frustration at himself.

Knock Knock

Namjoon spins around to your door, his growl deepening at the interruption before he sees Seokjin standing there. With a huff, Namjoon stops growling, and his shoulders sag at seeing the eldest mate.

“I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready,” Seokjin says with narrowed eyes and a slightly turned head as he takes in Namjoon’s reaction to a simple knock on the door. Looking past his Prime Alpha, he takes in your stiff posture, instinctively making him take a deeper breath.

Namjoon’s leather smells like it has been left under the sun for too long, and it mixes with your perfumed sweetpea, but there remains the hint of the vanilla mate scent. Shaking his head, Seokjin steps inside your den to stand beside the wolf hybrid, who follows his movements with a pleading look.

Putting his arms around Namjoon, Seokjin looks at you with a soft smile. “I take it the pack meeting didn’t stop in the living room?” he asks.

You roll your eyes in an almost agreeing movement, turning your head away from the two. Namjoon just lets out a soft whine and leans into the elder mate. “I see,” says Seokjin. “Well, there have been a lot of deep discussions and apparently unanswered questions or mixed feelings remain.”

“You got that right,” you mumble under your breath. Both hybrids hear it. Namjoon looks at Seokjin with wide eyes. His scent turns more into a burnt version.

With a sigh, Seokjin maneuvers Namjoon to start heading out the door, instructing, “Joonie-ah, go and gather the pack for lunch. I am sure our muscle bunny has probably already started, but get the rest to settle in. Y/n and I will join in a few, but don’t wait.”

Opening his mouth to object, wanting to help resolve what he assumes is another fuck up on his part. Seokjin raises his eyebrow and holds up a finger, causing the Prime Alpha to close his mouth and quickly walk out of the room. His actions pull an amused hum from you, bringing the eldest hybrid’s attention back to you.

Looking up, you look back down quickly, saying, “Sorry. Never thought I would see a Prime Alpha back down and leave without a word like that.”

“Oh,” giggles Seokjin with a wave of his hand. “Namjoon is the Prime Alpha but every once in a while he needs his Hyung to get him to listen. He really is a lap puppy under all that tough, leader persona.”

Noting that your scent hasn’t changed much, even with Namjoon leaving, Seokjin asks, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

Looking back at the eldest hybrid, you think for a moment. Are you okay? Technically, yes, you are, but you are also full of questions that keep zipping around while feeling lost but not at the same time. A tap on your forehead causes you to blink your eyes and quickly lean back when you see Seokjin just inches from your face.

“I lost you for a bit,” comments Seokjin. “Are you hungry or do you think you can wait for a bit?”

“Umm, well, I am not starving,” you answer. “Why?”

“Good, come with me,” Seokjin said, grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet and out the door. In a booming voice, he yells, “Jungkook, Yoongi! Nesting room, now!”

Hissing at him, you say, “Jin! They are eating, what are you doing?”

“Just be a good girl and come with me,” he smirks. The sound of chairs scraping and shouts of agreement come, but your brain is shorting out on two simple words– good girl.

You have been called many things before in your lifetime, but a good girl has never been one of them, at least not that you can remember. The tingles that it gave your brain decided to trickle down your back like a teasing caress, and that was something you weren’t expecting. Then again, after only being around these men for about a week now, you should be used to the unexpected. The question you will have to unpack later is, was it the name ‘good girl,’ was it how Seokjin said it, or was it because Seokjin said it that caused that reaction?

For Jin, your scent doesn’t give away your internal reaction to those words as much as your sudden lack of resistance does. Glancing over his shoulder as he leads you down the hall to the nesting room, he can see your eyes have fallen to your feet while your cheeks have become rosie.

Inside the nesting room, Seokjin sits you on the edge of the nest and kneels at your feet. After looking at your soles, he shakes his head, grabs a wet wipe from one of the drawers, and starts wiping off what you think might be grass and dirt from your walk outside this morning. Seokjin was muttering something about dirty feet and Taehyung having a heart attack if he knew as he cleaned you up.

While he is doing that, Yoongi walks in, followed by Jungkook, who is still holding a sandwich. Both seem to pause for a second before the perfumed sweetpea hits them. With a shared look, Jungkook quickly scarfed down the sandwich and ran to the kitchen to get everyone bottled water and the mango package they had the staff bring just for you.

Without a word, Yoongi moved into the nest and rearranged the pillows and blankets. After smelling the hint of leather and the state of your scent, his goal was to lessen Namjoon’s presence in the nest while still keeping it there enough that you would start to associate it as something safe. Pulling Jimin’s, Taehyung’s, and Hoseok’s scents towards the middle, hoping to give you a subconscious signal that your mates are with you right now.

You watched everything happening with a soft smile. It didn’t take much to recognize that they would try and use contact comfort to help you collect your thoughts or at least slow them down. Evie’s family would do this with you often, as contact comfort was one of the most helpful in settling the scents of packmates. The idea that their wordless agreements and understanding of the situation were so in sync when it came to something like this with you made your heart warm and your scent to fluff with vanilla and a hint of pear.

Once Jungkook was back, your feet were cleaned, and the nest was remade. Yoongi curled up to the far back of the nest while Jungkook and Seokjin stood outside in front of you.

Putting down his snacks, Jungkook looked at you with concern, asking, “Sweets, is everything okay? Your scent is kind of confusing.” He takes a deeper breath before continuing, “It’s like, you are not rejecting what happened, but worrying about it? Yet there is something else but I don’t know what it means.”

Before you can answer, Seokjin answers, “She and Joonie had a talk in her den. I think our handsome mate still hasn’t learned how to speak without putting his paw in his mouth around a certain lovely lady.”

Yoongi grumbles from behind you before he reaches out with a hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you back into the nest. “Namjoon-ah needs to stop trying to fix things without talking to one of us,” comments the jaguar.

“There really wasn’t anything to fix, though,” you retorted as you scooted back and centered yourself in the nest. “I told him I understood why he made me your playmate and that he was just looking out for you guys, and you could have sworn I told him that I didn’t think hybrids existed.”

“Then, when he told me about the plan to have you lot teach me the ropes about Alphas and I guess what it means to be a hybrid, he reminded me yet again that I can say no,” You huff pulling off his bathroom, which is trying to strangle you as it catches on the nesting materials. “I mean, how many times does he or any of you need to say it? Like, I got it. No means no; it always has.”

“Dear, Namjoon was only trying to ensure or reinforce that boundaries aren’t a problem,” Seokjin reiterates, to which you huff and throw the robe out of the nest. All three hybrids pause, watching as if throwing it aside signifies something more important than merely removing it and stopping it from being in the way.

“Oh yeah, reinforce for who? I asked him,” You start to sass. “If the reminders were actually for me or him.” That garners a low, skin-tingling growl from Yoongi; meanwhile, Seokjin and Jungkook look like you just said something unexpected.

“Princess,” growls Yoongi. “We. Are. Alphas. We are not like those trashy, self-indulgent, egotistical, unethical humans who hold the unfortunate claim to being male because they possess the right chromosomes.”

Shifting you further onto your back and leaning over you so that he is inches from your face, upside down, Yoongi continues, “But that is all they are– male. They are not men; they will never be considered an Alpha. It would be wise for you to remember that you are surrounded by Alpha men. Understood, Princess?”

Internally, you are yelling at yourself for the rush of arousal that floods your system at his nonpermissive tone of voice and darkened expression. Your scent flaring with sweetness as your vanilla mate scent thickens like a syrup, signaling the two less dominant mates in the room know that they can relax.

You start to nod and pause when Yoongi’s eyes narrow slightly at your moments. Swallowing and licking your lip, you softly say, “Yes, Alpha.”

A smile softens his face at your reply. Slowly, Yoongi leans down, kisses your forehead softly, and mutters, “Good girl, Princess.”

There you go again, a tingle down your spine at the use of ‘good girl.’ Guess you now have your answer to the question. Apparently, the term caused a reaction because it has now happened to both Seokjin and Yoongi. God, you are gonna need to learn how to stop acting like a hormone-driven teenager around these “Alpha Men,” or you are gonna lose your job. Seriously, how do playmates do this day in and day out?

“Maybe they are just used to it? Not all of them can resist having some kind of attraction, or the partner rut contracts wouldn’t be a thing,” answers Jungkook, his ears standing tall and listening intently to everything.

You snap your head up, almost hitting Yoongi, and as you look at Jungkook with wide eyes, you ask, “Did… how much did I say out loud?”

Tilting his head, causing one ear to fold in half, with slight confusion, he slowly says, “How do playmates do this… day in and out? Did you not want an answer?”

You giggle softly and try to play it off, “I guess, I did. I just didn’t think I said it loud enough for you… umm… to hear.”

Jungkook smiles, happy to have answered your question with his exceptional hearing skills. “I can hear hushed things. It’s all part of being a prey hybrid. As a rabbit, I can hear something up to two miles away, but typically, the sound has to be in a higher pitch.”

You nod and lay back down, glancing up at Yoongi as he lies along the wall before looking at Seokjin. Seokjin and Yoongi snicker at your attempt but say nothing.

Kneeling in the nest, Seokjin taps your leg, saying, “In your den, it seemed to me that you just need a moment to exist. Based on your actions, I also noticed that Yoongi and Kookie are your safe packmates in Bangtan.”

“I was thinking, you can take some time to lay in a proper nest with your two protectors and either relax, ask questions, explore your dynamic with them. Whatever you need right now,” offers Seokjin. “I will be here as well just to help facilitate, in case one of their Alphas front.”

“Oh, umm… Like a grounding session?” you ask to clarify.

Seokjin smiles, agreeing, “Yes, a grounding session. Typically, as hybrids, we also scent the packmate that is the focus of the grounding session but that is entirely up to you.”

Jungkook inquisitively approaches the nest, asking, “Is it okay for me to come in? Can I lay at your back? Please?” His eyes look more like a doe than a bunny, which causes you to smile and nod because how could you deny such a simple request?

Excitedly, Jungkook hops into the nest and quickly gets in his spot behind you as you lean on your side, giving him space. While you spot Yoongi moving to take his place in front of you, you don’t notice Jungkook taking off his shirt. When Yoongi leans into your chest like a big kitten, nuzzling along the collarbones that peek out from your tank top sleepwear, you feel warm skin against your shoulders. You try to move away, but the weight of Yoongi on your chest and Jungkook’s arm wrapping around your waist stops you.

Both of your protectors know they are pushing their actions a bit, but after the pack meeting, they are hopeful they can. At this point, all three hybrids can smell the spike perfume as they settle around you, but they wait to see what you will do. It takes only seconds for that perfume to dissipate and become more like the floral notes of jasmine.

Yoongi instinctively purrs at the happy scent of you as it surrounds him, mixing with Jungkook’s snickerdoodle and hints of the pack from the nest. Jungkook’s cotton tail wiggles at the change in your scent—the feeling of finally having you in his arms where you belong adds to his elation.

Seokjin, on the other hand, breathes a sigh of relief that you subconsciously or instinctively decided to accept their bolder moves. Not only is your personal scent showing your acceptance of their contact comfort, but the mate scent remains consistent and syrupy. Show each of them that your bond with the bunny and the jaguar has, in fact, grown.

However, experiencing intimate contact with Jungkook can be slightly intimidating, especially with the entire pack home and two in the same room. It is unexpectedly reassuring once you take a moment to stop to remember the discussion from the pack meeting and then start feeling. The warmth of Jungkook’s body melding with your back is more pleasant than expected. The presence of a hybrid-sized heated weighted blanket, which Yoongi has become soothing, allows your mind to divert from the racing thoughts.

Relaxing into their hold, you adjust to lean more against Jungkook, who happily accepts by pulling you closer at the waist. Your arm drapes over Yoongi and rests below his neck, between his shoulder blades. With a small break in his purring, Yoongi scoots closer since you moved away from him, causing your hand to slide up his neck and into the base of his hair. His furry ears twitch and almost flutter at the feeling as his purring increases.

Taking that as a good sign, you slowly scratch at his scalp almost absentmindedly as you breathe in the spring rain of Yoongi’s petrichor and Jungkook’s sweet but spiced snickerdoodle. Your mind slowly becomes a buzz of peace and calmness you haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s not long till your soft snores are heard over Yoongi’s purring.

Seokjin finds his way around, where he knows his bonded mates can see him and catch their attention. Much to Seokjin’s prediction, he has the attention of a golden-yellow-eyed Alpha and a smokey grey-eyed Alpha. His tender and proud smile blooms at the younger Alpha’s comforting, caring, and protecting their ladymate.

“Alpha Yoon, Alpha Kook,” Seokjin greets. “I will step out and let the pack know our Ladymate is being cared for and not to worry or bother the three of you. I will be in and out to check on you guys.”

Alpha Kook nods and pulls you closer to himself, wanting you to stay comfortable and warm. Alpha Yoon, however, looks at Seokjin like he wants to say something as his eyes narrow at the older bonded mate.

“Yes, Alpha Yoon?” asks Seokjin, attempting to prompt him into speaking his mind.

With a broken purr, Alpha Yoon demands, “Bring Tae. Must serve mate. Keep warm. Stay close.”

Seokjin’s eyes light with understanding. “That’s right, Alpha Yoon. Taehyung is in service to Y/n right now,” affirms Seokjin. “I will send him in next, but I will ensure he knows you two are in charge of this right now.”

After Alpha Yoon thinks about what Seokjin said, he nods and snuggles closer, prompting Seokjin to stand quietly and leave the nest in search of the pack—specifically, a tiger to send in and a wolf to have a serious discussion with.

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eternal-stay · 2 days ago

Text

SWEET DREAMS

SICKIE⇒ CHAN

4k words

the night had fallen over seoul city, a cold and dark blanket that wrapped around every silhouette, putting to sleep only those who it seemed to deem worthy of rest.

chan had thought himself lucky when his eyes had closed no later than an hour after he’d dragged his tired body to bed. worthy of rest, isn’t that exactly what he was? every single limit his sensible mind had thought of had been long broken by his aching desire to be perfect.

the perfect leader, the perfect singer, the perfect songwriter.

for himself, the boy that had left home when he was just a kid, wandering into an unknown world of constant practice and competition miles away from everything he had ever known.

for his family, that had let him go, knowing deep down that he might never make it, and his siblings whose childhood he’d watched slip away from afar. even for his company, that had put him through so much and yet was the reason he had achieved his dream.

mostly, though, he wanted to be perfect for his members. for the seven boys that had saved his life and had, along with him, built something to be proud of.

the seven boys that were the centre of the universe he’d found himself in, that had watched him break multiple times and had patiently put him back together. for the seven boys that chan, without a doubt, would give his life for. anytime, anywhere.

just to be perfect for them, to be able to protect them and give back everything he’d received, chan had pushed way past every obstacle that his body had put in his way.

perhaps he shouldn’t have, but he did.

and because he did, he deserved to rest, to close his eyes without being scared of not making it past two hours asleep, without being scared of falling into the so familiar limbo that were his insomnia and his racing thoughts.

and it was today that what he deserved he’d been given. sleep had claimed him without any worries. the last expression he’d worn before succumbing to his tiredness had been a smile, a subtle indicator that the night was going to be peaceful, easy, welcome.

chan had been sure of it, and yet he’d woken up in the peak of darkness to a strange creaking, a quiet, easily dismissible whisper that anyone would have missed. but not him.

he dejectedly sat up, unable to stop the sudden feeling of unease that spread through him as quick as blood dropping into water. something was wrong, he knew.

his heart raced when he heard soft footsteps on the wooden floor of the entryway. it could’ve been his members, of course, but a glance at the clock told him that it wasn’t. because none of his boys would be walking with shoes on at 4:27 am.

quietly, hoping not to make any noise, chan tried to reach for his phone. that’s when he realized he couldn’t move his hands. he tugged, but a metallic coldness held him back. turning around, he saw himself chained to the bed. the echo of a laugh reached his ears.

panic tore through him as he tried to break the grip the metal had on his hands, but the footsteps where quickening and just as he thought the clasp would give in, a blood curling scream shook the air. they had one of his boys.

chan trashed and fought against the chain, feeling like a caged animal. in the room next to him, through the wall that separated him from the intruder, he could hear ragged breathing and fighting. who slept in that room? for some reason, chan couldn’t remember.

a heavy thud on the floor seemed to give him enough strength to break the shackles that someone, somehow, had restricted him in. he ran and ran towards the door, watching how for every step he took, the room grew larger and larger.

the hall extender infinitely, and he should’ve known better than to keep chasing the exit. but how could he stop when he had someone to protect?

a sinister giggle rang through his ears, hidden eyes staring at him from afar. chan felt a cold breath on his neck, yet upon turning no one was behind.

‘stop running’ someone whispered, and the ground tilted beneath chan’s feet. he fell with a grunt, hands catching him by chance on a floor that wasn’t wooden. it was warm, liquid, thick. he saw nothing in the darkness, but when he brought his hands closer to his face, they smelled of iron.

‘he’s dead, he’s dead’ the voice laughed, relishing in chan’s despair ‘do you feel him?’. chan looked around, he looked everywhere, but he was alone. someone gripped his shoulder, but nobody was there when he turned. a hand held onto his arm, and when it didn’t let go, he reached out to touch the person. there was no one, yet the cold fingers still held onto his arm. he shouldn’t have, but he wondered whose boy’s hand it was.

chan couldn’t breathe anymore, consumed by fear. a drop of something hit his forehead—he didn’t need to touch it to know it was blood—and upon looking up he saw dead eyes staring at him from the ceiling.

his body coiled back on instinct, the figure was invisible in the darkness, but he knew those eyes, they’d stared at him every day, accompanied by the warm smile and fox eyes he loved so much.

dead. the word wouldn’t leave his brain. despite himself, he looked up again, but he was now met with the cat shaped eyes that so many people had dared to call mean.

this time, he couldn’t look away. ‘hyung’ he heard. the familiar voice came from the ceiling, tormenting him. the metallic smell of the blood he undoubtedly was kneeling in surrounded him, making him feel sick. dead.

‘do you hear me?’ the voice called, warm despite the lifeless eyes he kept staring at. wasn’t he dead? chan couldn’t help himself, and he nodded, thrashing around when he felt the ghost of a touch on his shoulder.

his throat tightened and his eyes watered, unable to comprehend the nightmarish situation he’d found himself in. he crawled away, desperate to get away from whatever this all was. he wanted the door, he wanted to get his phone and call someone and turn on the lights, though he feared what he would see.

a cold breeze swept past him, teasing, merciless, reminding him he’d done nothing to protect the people he loved. his body hit a wall, but the door was not there. he grabbed onto whatever was on the wall, giving it no thought as he pushed himself to stand up. his legs were shaking. just then, he realized what he’d held onto, because suddenly freezing fingers closed around his hand, and he was being pulled away, back into the darkness he’d tried to escape from.

‘stop!’ he yelled, trying to get away from the inhumanly strong grip the person had on his hand. useless, he knew, but he still tried. his legs felt weak and he couldn’t get a full breath in, and it wasn’t long before he crumbled to the blood-bathed floor again.

this time though, he was pushed down, and the blood rose. chan didn’t know—didn’t want to know—where it came from, but soon it covered him completely. in a careless attempt to breathe, he inhaled the hot liquid. he could feel it inside him, making its way into his lungs, filling his mouth. warm, metallic, thick. he was drowning. no, he was being drowned, and he had no way out.

he gave up fighting, the panic too strong to keep moving, and he swore he heard the devious laugh of whoever did this to him. muffled, evil, victorious. as he stopped breathing, he remembered the way his member’s eyes had stared at him from the ceiling. lifeless, cold. it made his skin crawl, his stomach turn. ‘channie hyung’ he heard again, his brain’s desperate attempt to remember the voice he’d never hear again. or so he thought.

suddenly, the weight of the hand that had been pushing him down disappeared, and he was yanked away from the blood bath he’d been submerged in.

he could breathe again—he should be able to, but the fear had a hold on him. chest tight, he fell forward, but, this time, strong arms caught him. not to push him back into the abyss, not to take his life away.

these arms were warm.

“he’s awake” he heard someone shout, the loud sound ringing through his head. he could still feel his heartbeat in his ears, the iron taste in his mouth and the weight on his lungs.

who was awake? was it one of his boys, whose dead eyes had pierced through him moments ago?

someone grabbed chan’s hand again, and he pulled away with a sob. “stop,” he cried out, fighting against whoever was trying to grasp onto him again. he didn’t dare open his eyes, dreaded the possibility of seeing the blood-drowned floor again, the lifeless faces from the ceiling.

“look at me,” he heard. it wasn’t an order, it was a plead, so despite himself, he obliged. the same eyes from before were staring back at him, but now they were warm, caring, and deeply worried.

without a second thought, chan threw himself into the waiting arms that were held open for him. “min-”, he sobbed, tightly holding onto his oldest dongsaeng’s shirt like he’d slip away from him, “you w-were— i thought i-i l-lost y-you”

minho, for his part, simply held the leader against his chest, not planning to let go anytime soon. “hey,” he said into chan’s ear, worried by the force of the sobs that shook his body, “you’re okay, its okay”

but his words were met by a frantic shake of chan’s head, the leader far too consumed by the fear he’d experienced. “n-no!” chan replied in a broken voice, “i-innie a-and you d-died— someone w-was—”

he was cut off by another person coming into the room, and he looked up to see changbin walking towards him, visibly concerned. “what’s going on?” the rapper asked, quickly taking a seat next to chan as his hand found its way to the older��s sweaty hair. “you’re sweating.. are you sick?”

“he’s not,” minho answered, seeing as chan was way too worked up to be coherent, “he had a nightmare”.

something clicked in chan’s mind: a nightmare. he hadn’t failed his members, hadn’t failed to protect them because there’d been nothing to protect them from.

it had all been yet another successful attempt of his mind to torment him, and he’d fallen for it. every creak of the bed he sat in, every whisper changbin and minho shared as he struggled to regain control only served as an unforgiving reminder of his dream.

he’d felt it, lived it, and as much as he fought against himself, he kept replaying every sensation. it was haunting.

he still felt the thick blood drowning him, blocking his airways. he tasted it on his tongue, and his stomach churned. he tried to ignore it, to pay no mind to the way his it seemed to twist on itself. how much he hated that feeling.

was he going to lose control again? he was going to be sick, completely at the mercy of his body. this time, no one wouldn’t be able to pull him out.

chan must’ve gone pale, because suddenly minho pulled away from him and the cold night air enveloped his body. he gasped, scared that the dancer was leaving him again, but then there was a warm hand on his forehead, his cheek and his neck.

“you’re shaking,” minho said softly, brushing his hair back. his bangs clung to his forehead and beads of sweat dotted his brows. his cheeks were drowned in tears and he’d resent looking so pitiful if he wasn’t so focused on keeping the nausea away.

changbin noticed immediately, having spent so much episodes with him. “do you feel sick?” he asked lowly, sounding as calm as he could. waiting for a response that he knew he wasn’t going to get, the rapper ran his hand up chan’s back, grimacing at how sticky his shirt felt.

the leader, as expected, didn’t reply. he wasn’t going to accept what was coming, wouldn’t be the one to confirm the undeniable nausea that was slowly taking over his body.

much like the blood in his dream, he could feel it in his throat. the memory wasn’t pleasant at all, and with it returned the panic. within a second, every attempt of regaining his composure crumbled, and chan found himself unable to breathe for the second time that night.

he clutched at his chest, trying to feel his heartbeat. he should at least be able to control that, shouldn’t he? he coughed, but closed his mouth when it almost triggered a gag.

“hey, hey,” minho spoke softly, trying to keep chan calm. the leader was shaking, his skin ghostly pale as his eyes darted around restlessly, much like a prey waiting to be attacked. “are you going to throw up?”

chan, again, shook his head no. yes, his heart might be racing and his lungs might not be working properly and there might be the nauseating memory from his dream and– fuck, he was going to throw up.

well, no. he wouldn’t throw up as long as he just calmed down. that’s what he was gonna do. he forced himself to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat and this time he couldn’t hold back a gag. breathing didn’t feel like an option anymore. his body was turning against him, offering him no other option than to surrender to himself.

he didn’t notice his own hand pressing down on his chest, desperate to stop the ache that came with the lack of air, but whimpered when minho pulled it away. what was the dancer doing? it hurt.

that’s was when he felt another hand replacing his. it was gentle, reassuring. he just knew it was changbin’s. if the glance the rapper shot minho was anything to go by, then chan’s heart must’ve been hammering.

his racing pulse only heightened the nausea, he could feel it in his throat with every beat.

“b-bathroom,” he said, his voice cracking in a way so distraught that it had minho and changbin immediately hauling him up to his feet, whispering quiet reassurances when a wave of dizziness almost had him going down to the floor right then and there.

he stumbled his way out of the room, the edges of his vision blurring. lightheaded, he collapsed against the sink, his weak arms barely holding him up on the edge.

against what minho and changbin had thought to be a sorrowful acceptance of the dreaded event that was about to come, chan didn’t move towards the toilet.

instead, he reached a shaky hand to open the faucet, the water as cold as it could get. carefully, aware of how unsteady he was, chan let go of the sink and washed his face. he was grateful for the strong arm that appeared around his waist and the gentleness with which changbin held his hair back. when he was done, the rapper let go and walked to the cabinet to grab a towel, but he quickly turned around when he heard the unmistakable sound of his leader sobbing again.

in a blur, minho had chan kneeling over the toilet, trying with all his might to get him to move his hand away from his mouth. “hyung, you can’t even breathe like that,” he coaxed, his fingers brushing tenderly against chan’s wrist, itching to just be the one that moved his hand away and get this over with.

but chan was terrified, he thought he’d lost them and now his body, after tormenting him even in his sleep, was showing him what hell felt like, so minho couldn’t do anything but hope chan would listen to him.

in reality, the leader knew that this battle was a losing one, but no amount of preparation could’ve warned him for the way his stomach convulsed no longer after the words had left minho’s mouth.

panic-stricken, he tightly held onto minho’s arm, not noticing he’d turned his whole body towards the dancer until he was pulled into a hug.

“try to breathe,” minho murmured into his ear, “what’s the worst that can happen? we’re right here with you”

chan shrugged. the worst that could happen? being sick. that wasn’t even questionable. yes, his friends were right there and they’d do anything to keep him safe, but how would they do it when he couldn’t even help himself?

he pressed his face against minho’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably while trying to get any air into his lungs, and the dancer let him. the moment was short lived, broken by the wave of nausea that soon joined the ache in his chest. this time it was intense, defiant.

he couldn’t keep it down anymore and urgently pushed minho away, barely comprehending changbin kneeling down behind him to position him in front of the toilet.

he’d had no time to talk himself into not throwing up when the first gag threw his body forward. a thin stream of saliva came up, scaring him beyond help. this was happening and he couldn’t put an end to it now.

a strong retch had him bringing up part of his dinner and he clutched at his throat, trying to ease the burning. was he gonna choke? drown just like he had in his dream?

“don’t do that,” changbin said, still supporting chan’s waist. if it wasn’t for the way the leader was dangerously swaying, the rapper would’ve let go of him to at least hold his hair back. minho did that instead, though, also making sure chan would free his neck and instead focus on breathing through the ordeal.

“almost over,” the dancer promised, busy drying the neverending waterfall that were chan’s tears. the leader was trembling, his chest heaving as silent sobs shook his body. he wasn’t even fighting against the nausea anymore because it was pointless.

even in the hazy state of mind that the fear had put him in, he was able to feel changbin steadily holding him up and minho gently brushing through his hair. the dancer was drying his tears and sweat with a soft towel that felt nice on his tense body and, before he knew it, the previous words came true.

never before had chan been so grateful to have had a light dinner, because he couldn’t imagine having any more to throw up. the worst part was over and he’d give thanks for it, yet the sole fact that he’d even found himself in this situation, completely at the mercy of his body after being woken up so cruelly, made it hard to be grateful.

despite the newfound emptiness in his stomach, he didn’t have the courage to move away from the toilet. one thing was staying away when the only goal was not being sick, but now that he’d failed to do that, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

if he ever threw up on the floor or, even worse, in his room, he was sure he’d die. undoubtedly.

“hyung.” changbin poked his cheek. “move back. you’re empty”

chan shook his head though, trying to swat the attacking hand away. “m’ not sure,” was the answer he gave, his words accompanied by a shiver when he accidentally looked down into the toilet. as expected, his reply was absolutely ignored and he was immediately pulled against the rapper’s broad chest. it was comfy, so he didn’t complain and instead relished in his hold.

minho smiled at the sweet sight, cringing when he caught himself reaching out to softly pat chan’s thigh. ‘very nice thigh,’ he thought, ‘but when did i turn so caring?’

rolling his eyes, he stood up and flushed the toilet, intending to get chan back into bed asap. they just needed to change his sweat soaked shirt first, because it looked like he’d been swimming.

what really was swimming, though, was chan’s vision. it wasn’t enough to make him queasy again, but he still tensed up and sat away from changbin, his mind almost racing.

“shh, hyung,” the raper cooed, holding chan’s hands and tugging him close. he wasn’t going to allow chan to panic again, not after everything he’d gone through already. “its okay, lean back against me”.

unexpectedly, the leader melted into the touch, dropping his head onto changbin’s shoulder and weakly hugging back. the rapper started tracing patterns on his back with one hand while the other tapped rhythmically against his side, and chan tried to match his breathing to the taps. this time, he could.

when minho returned with a fresh shirt that most definitely wasn’t chan’s, the leader looked surprised. he hadn’t noticed him leaving with how comfy he’d been against changbin.

“cute,” minho teased, kneeling next to chan and starting to take of his sweaty shirt. it wasn’t a good moment to admire his abs, but he couldn’t hold back a smirk. chan didn't even notice, still kinda out of it, but he welcomed the change. minho quickly dabbed the towel over chan’s chest, arms and back before helping him into the new shirt.

the fabric felt cool against his skin instead of sticky, and he finally started to grow tired. he didn’t protest when they helped him to his feet, though he was still hesitant to leave the bathroom.

“no point in staying here any longer,” changbin said, staring into chan’s eyes as if daring him to disagree, “lets go to bed.”

“but w-”

“absolutely no point.”

chan huffed, but allowed himself to be walked back to his room. to his surprise, they went to minho’s instead and, honestly, he preferred it that way. his room right now sounded a bit too haunting to peacefully go back to sleep, and he was glad that minho wouldn’t mind keeping him company.

because he was going to stay with him, right? he wouldn’t just go to another room and leave chan there, alone if he by any chance had another nightmare or even worse, if someone actually came into the dorm-

“hyung, for the third time-” he looked up to see minho glaring. oh. he must’ve zoned out. “i said which side of the bed do you want.”

chan broke into a smile—he was going to get company—and took the left side. he got under the covers and curled up on his side, wondering if he’d be able to rest now. the bedside clock showed 5am, and he felt bad for keeping his dongsaengs awake.

he didn't apologize though, because he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to get through the night—at least not with any mental stability left—without them, so he settled for a sincere thanks.

changbin smiled and plopped onto the bed next to him to give him a tight hug, pouting childishly when minho practically shooed him away. the rapper didn’t listen at all, though, instead sitting against the headboard.

assuming that he wasn’t going to leave for the time being, minho simply rolled his eyes and sat on the middle of the bed, tracing his fingers down chan’s arm to make him shiver.

absentmindedly playing with the leader’s hair, changbin started talking about random stuff, and soon minho joined the quiet conversation. chan closed his eyes, feeling at peace for the first time since the disturbing nightmare.

he’d thought he was too shaken up to sleep again, but as he sunk into the mattress, feeling his two friend’s hands on his hair and wherever minho’s hand went—his ass—he felt consciousness slip away from him.

he let himself be pulled under the warm blanket that sleep promised to be this time, and the last thing he heard was a soft, whispered “sweet dreams”.

sweet dreams.

everyone knew that was what he deserved.

4038 words

that was fine ig? not what i expected when i started writing, i thought the nightmare part would turn out way more dramatic and horror-movie-like so i added a tw, but it doesn’t seem as strong now.

the emetophobia part, i’m not a huge fan of it but oh well, i don’t hate it either. it’s probably not accurate—sorry for that!

as always, if there are any mistakes (fr, even the slightest misspelling or a missing space) or anything i should change, tell me! don’t let me embarrass myself.

that’s all, i hope you liked it! ♥︎♥︎

→ special thanks to @crossingfelix for helping me understand the phobia better AND because if it hadn’t been for the race i wouldn’t have finished this! (he still won lol)

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heretyc · 1 day ago

Text

Astraphobia [Modern AU] [Coyle x Reader]

A fic revolving around Coyle helping you with your astraphobia. I personally hate thunderstorms only if they're at night. During the day? Gorgeous.

If I get anything wrong about storms, my apologies. This is based on the headcanons I posted. I'll be posting some more modern stuff soon; my health's getting a little better and I'm much more in the writing spirit. The closer I am to my doctor's appointment the better I feel. 🤷‍♂️

"Coyle, get in this fucking house. Now."

The bearded man cared not for your irritated voice or the alerts on TV as the Oklahoman sky roared above mere miles away. The sun shone onto the ranch, the sky still a lovely shade of blue as cows and horses feasted on the grass in their respectable pens.

Coyle ignored you, contiuing to sit and watch the sky above as purple and blue bolts of lightning intertwined in the dark, menacing anvil cloud.

You growled, now stepping outside to glare at him. "Coyle, there is a whole ass severe thunderstorm warning. Get in, we need to get into the basement in case of a tornado."

"The warnin's don't matter," he was quick to scoff, sipping at his beer. "Ain't no 'nader comin' round here. Not likely."

"Okay, since when did YOU become a meterologist, Leland?" You scoffed, leaning against the doorway. "The warnings-"

"Yeah, yeah. The warnings are for over there." He motioned across the many fields that the ranch had faced; the anvil had stayed eerily still, flashing every other second. He sipped at his cold beer once more, trying to remain calm and collected; he knew of your little phobia, and whilst he didn't understand it, he loved you enough to express some patience. "We ain't there, so don't panic."

"...So?"

"So," he clicked his tongue, "I been around enough storms to know. The wind's pushing them clouds away from here. We only get them warnings in case the storm reaches this way." He clicked his tongue, "It won't. And it ain't gonna drop no 'nado, either."

You sat down beside him on the porch steps, staring at the clouds in the horizion with uncertainty; the menacing anvil clouds rumbled with ease, ready to unleash chaos onto the earth. "And how do you know?"

"The sky's a pretty good indicator." He leaned down to mumble near your ear with comfort, "The anvil ain't high enough...so there won't be any ice or winds from the atmosphere. 'Nados need cold and hot air to form." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet. "Trust me honey, I'm an Oklahoman born and raised, I've seen storms that knocked out power grids for days. This," he motioned to the storm in the distant, "is gonna be torrential rain and a light show, nothing more. Of course it could get worse, Mother Nature's a real unpredictable bitch."

He snickered, shaking his head as he put his sunglasses up and onto his head. "But that ain't gonna happen. Trust me."

"...Sure, but you did just say she's unpredictable." You sighed, "what if it does blow this way?"

"Then we act accordingly." He cracked open a new beer can and offered it to you, nodding once you took it. "But for now it ain't coming to us, and it's just a storm. Make the best of it. You hate the thunder? Grab your earplugs."

"Those are saved for your snoring."

"Yes, well, you've said my snorin's like thunder," he smirked, "so nothing's changed."

And like Coyle had said, the storm remained at bay, the thunder eventually dying out, and the clouds faded into nothingness. You could see why Leland enjoyed storms so much; truly a gorgeous sight to behold when you're not being pelted with rain.

And when thunder rumbled that night, youweren't surprised to see him back in his seat on the porch, watching rain pelt the land in front of him. "Nonsevere," he muttered after hearing you open the door, "go back to bed, I'll be there in a few minutes."

And so you went to sleep, unbothered.

That was until his snoring started, however...

#outlast #outlast trials #the outlast trials #outlast x reader #outlast fanfiction #leland coyle x reader #coyle x reader #leland coyle #coyle

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timaeusresponds · 29 days ago

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I hate for a lot of reasons I don’t owe anyone the character assassination of Dirk Strider through the epilogues (no one is going to convince me it was a logical step) (do not try i dont care) but

But

Ult Dirk’s Big Beautiful Motorboat-able Rack and Massive Biceps.

#i think making a whole point of a conversation be #about how dirk can become a terrible person unchecked #and having him have a not great reaction and in turn #showing affection and kindness to dave #followed up by him being seen apologizing to jake for what happened #and indicating hes making the steps to be better #because unlike bro he had intervention and genuinely loved his friends #just to go ‘actually hes a monster who does genuinely attrocious things to those he loves’#‘with callousness and ice’#is so fucking insane to me #and everyone who says ‘no dirk was destined for this’ or ‘this is a logical thing and youre just an apologist’#i genuinely dont get how you read the last portions we see of dirk in actual homestuck #and think ‘yeah this guy actively identifying himself as a problem and making the steps to fix it’#‘yeah hes actually a monster’#he was an unsocialized 16 year old with horrible self loathing and zero interaction #i see people say that if dirks redeemable then so is vriska and like #thats the fuckin point #they were kids #yes theyre responsible for their actions but like what we see in act 6 is dirk owning that #and what we see in BC is vriska owning that #anyway #homestuck #dirk strider #ult dirk #beyond canon #trip talks

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adiadagaki · 1 month ago

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heianera!sukuna observed you in your chair, reading a book, engrossed in a world of your own. You spent most of your time nestled in the arm chair by the fire, waiting patiently for whenever Sukuna would call you over in need of service.

Oddly, you didn’t miss the kitchen, most of the time Sukuna was no issue, his commands simple, and he was never violent. All in all, he was a pretty good employer and you were happy.

“Pet.” Your head lifted without hesitation, your book softly falling closed. “Yes, my lord.”

“Come rub my back.”

You froze, perplexed by his ask. Surely one of his concubines would be better suited for such a task, but who were you to question a King? After all, Sukuna always knew what he wanted.

“Rub your back, my lord?”

“Yes. I have new oils I wish to try.”

Setting your book aside, you stood, the ruffles of your work skirt swishing around your thighs. Sukuna licked his lips at the sight. He loved your uniform more than anything in his palace, forever making you look like a sweet treat.

Settling by his bed, you stood awaiting further instruction.

“Undress me, little one.” If you had seen Sukuna around the other servants you’d know he didn’t have pet names for them, not even his concubines, it marked you as special, and you didn’t even know it.

With slightly shaky hands, you removed his kimono, neatly folding it and placing it off to the side. Even with all of his muscles bare, you were polite and didn’t stare, as, after all, that wasn’t part of your job.

Sukuna frowned at the sight.

Maybe you’d be harder to tease than he thought.

Adjusting himself so he was led on his stomach, he nodded his head, indicating to his back. “Sit, pet. The oils are on the bedside stand.”

“Do you have a preference, my lord?”

“Whichever you choose is fine, little one.”

Deciding on a random bottle, you crawled onto the bed, sitting by his side, preparing to unscrew the cap. Sukuna tutted playfully, drawing your attention.

“My lord?”

“How do you suppose you can give me a massage properly from the side?” He quirked a brow and your lips parted, but words didn’t find you.

“Sit, pet.” And this time you understood perfectly what he meant.

Slow in your movements, you kicked your leg over him and straddled his lower back, saddled on the natural dip of his spine, your sex right over Sukuna’s muscles. Your mind didn’t go to such a place, but the Kings did.

Oiling up your hands, you set out on your task, finding it a little odd but not speaking up, knowing your place. Plus, a slightly compromised position or not this was a professional craft for many and it didn’t always entail such lewd endings.

Sukuna had other ideas.

Every time you worked a certain muscle he let out low, drawn out moans, praising you for a job well done. It brought the lightest flush to your cheeks because anyone could walk in and get the wrong idea about all of this.

Seeing the pink on your cheeks, Sukuna decided it was time for step 2. Flexing his back muscles, he watched from the corner of two eyes as you stilled, confused and utterly adorable in it.

You were questioning yourself. Had you made it up? Had the King done something? Had you done something?

Sukuna didn’t comment.

And then he did it again.

This time you were certain he had moved, you’d been still as a statue since your mind had decided to play tricks on you. What was his angle?

Deciding it was better to end this massage sooner rather than later, you put the last of the oil on your hands and made haste.

Knowing what you were up to, Sukuna upped his game, shifting his hips up off the mattress and grinding back against you, earning him the smallest hitch of your breath.

You were definitely getting worked up by his antics. Brilliant, a few more shifts of his hips and you should be-

“There you are my lord. Hopefully the oil is to your liking. Call me if you need anything else.”

Sukuna growled. You had climbed off him, having finished the massage far quicker than he would have liked. But the King was not to easy to give up, he was already plotting how he could have you soaking those white panties again soon.

You were destined to be his, for better or for worse.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen

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thalwri · 4 months ago

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STICKY N' WET

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

wc: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you.

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident.

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen.

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable.

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants.

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet.

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen.

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see.

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted.

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him.

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap!

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like?

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass.

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside.

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name.

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind.

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already,

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall.

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other.

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor.

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by.

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.”

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts.

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind.

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight.

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

a/n: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #sylus qin #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #qin che #l&ds sylus #lnds #✧.* thalwri works

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youraverageaemondsimp · 9 months ago

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Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.

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saatorus · 14 days ago

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for all the people who've suffered an emotionally abusive father :)

“I’ve told you multiple times, I don’t always have the time to coddle you. Don’t you understand? I get home from a tiring mission and you’re being like this—”

You try to tune it out. You try, you really do. But it’s hard not to feel a little bit of anger — no, hurt — at how insensitive your husband, Satoru, is being. You had waited all day for him to come home. Today was your goddamn fifth wedding anniversary. You had decorated the living room with fairy lights, made his favorite dinner, even wore the soft blue sweater he liked — the one he once said made you look like “something out of a dream.”

And yet, the moment he stepped through the door, it was like none of that mattered. His shoulders were tense, his hair still damp from a rushed shower, the scent of lingering sorcery clinging to him like smoke. You had wrapped your arms around him, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, whispered a “Happy anniversary, love” against his skin.

But he had just gently pushed you off.

Not harshly, no. Satoru was never cruel. But it was enough to make you freeze. Enough to stir that little ache in your chest you’d worked so hard to quiet over the years. Enough that it led to all this.

“I never asked you to coddle me, I was just—”

“Well, I was obviously indicating you give me some space. I don’t always have to kiss you and touch you. I get so tired sometimes and—”

“I know,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I get that you do. I just thought… I thought maybe today, of all days…”

Your voice cracks. You hate that it does.

Satoru exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair in frustration before suddenly—falling silent.

Just like that.

Not another word. He turns his back, walks into the bedroom without so much as glancing at you again.

And it’s that silence that cuts deeper than anything else.

Because suddenly, you're not standing in your shared apartment with your husband. You're eighteen years old again, sitting on the bed in your room with a weird sense of despair coiling in your stomach, watching your father turn away after another minor argument he claimed wasn't worth his breath. Sitting there, trying to figure out what is wrong with you. You remember how he would go days– no, weeks, even months– without speaking to you, how you’d tiptoe around the house trying to be good, better, perfect — all so he’d finally look at you again.

It’s not the same, you know it isn’t.

But your chest tightens all the same. The air feels thick. Wrong.

And just like that, the old panic sets in. The kind that gnaws at your ribs and wraps around your lungs like a vice. You swallow hard, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. You’re back in a place you swore you'd never return to—feeling like a burden, like your love was too loud, too much. Like your father all over again, who’d shut down and ignore you for ages if you ever stepped even slightly out of line. You blink away the sudden sting in your eyes and sit on the edge of the couch, your fingers twisting in the hem of your sweater. You try to breathe, to rationalize, but the panic builds quickly, threatening to tip into something messy and raw.

And then suddenly—he’s there.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Baby—hey, talk to me,” he says quickly, eyes scanning your face. “Did I…? Shit. I messed up. I know I did. I’m so sorry.”

You look up at him, startled by the urgency in his voice. His blindfold is off now, and his cerulean eyes are wide, frantic. He drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You shake your head, tears clinging to your lashes. “No, I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to cling or make it harder on you. I know you’re tired from missions, and I should’ve just… I could’ve wrapped everything up. We didn’t have to celebrate. I just thought maybe even a few minutes would’ve been nice.”

“No, no, no, don’t say that,” he whispers immediately, voice cracking. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t ever apologize for loving me. Please.”

You try to look away, but he gently cups your face, thumbing away the tears on your cheeks.

“It’s just… when you went quiet,” you murmur, “it brought me back to a place I hate. My dad used to do that. Walk away. Shut me out. Make me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t deserve even a word.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, this time softer. “I didn’t realize—I just thought you were being clingy, and I was tired, and I snapped, but that’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong. God, I just realised it’s our anniversary and I…”

You don’t realize you’re crying until he cups your face gently and wipes a tear away with his thumb.

His expression crumples, heartbreak swimming in his eyes. “God, baby, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—fuck, I never want to make you feel like that. Ever.”

“I know,” you whisper. “You’re not him. But sometimes, my heart forgets. I just wanted to celebrate with you,” you whisper, voice trembling. “And when you shut down like that, when you go quiet… It makes me feel like I’m back there again. Like I’m that girl who was never good enough, never worth talking to.”

His expression falls.

“Baby,” he breathes. “No. No, no, no. You’re worth everything. You’re worth so much more than I can ever put into words. I’m so sorry for making you feel like that. I swear to you, I’ll never walk away like that again. Not from you. Never from you.”

He pulls you into his arms tightly, like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers. You bury your face into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin, letting the warmth of his embrace slowly thaw the ice that had begun to creep into your heart.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much. I know I’m a pain in the ass sometimes, but I love you more than anything. Even more than sweets. Which is saying something. Like I’d ditch Kikufuku f’you—”

You laugh through your tears, and he grins like it’s the best sound he’s heard all day.

He pulls you into his chest again. “Never again,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, “I’ll never walk away like that again. Not even when I’m tired. Not when I’m angry. You are never too much. You are everything.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you more,” he replies instantly, nuzzling your temple. “More than anything. And I know I don’t say it right every time, but I feel it every second I’m breathing.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the silence finally feels safe again.

Eventually, he pulls back and flashes a small, sheepish smile.

“Come on,” he says, standing and lifting you up bridal-style, ignoring your surprised squeak. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll re-do the whole night, yeah? Lights, candles, that ridiculous playlist you made—”

“The one you said sounded like a 2005 prom?”

“Exactly. I hated it. Let’s play it right now.”

He sets you down gently on the bed, then kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips — soft and slow, like a promise.

“You’re everything to me,” he says against your mouth. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

This time, when he pulls you into his arms, there’s no tension in his shoulders. Just warmth. Just love.

And despite the rocky start, the night ends just how it was meant to: with candlelight dancing across the walls, soft music playing in the background, and Satoru Gojo curled up beside you, feeding you spoonfuls of lukewarm curry and whispering “I love you” between every bite.

Flawed, but perfect. Just like the two of you.

And the rest of the night passes in the glow of fairy lights and bad music, wrapped in the comfort of knowing that even in the moments where things falter — you always find your way back to each other.

yes this is entirely self indulgent and yes my father has been ignoring me for an exact month and yes this is a slight trauma dump but for anyone in a similar situation just know that you're never alone, and it will get better, i love you

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader angst #satoru gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

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Bakery/coffee shop au where you had a very specific policy: you never served people what they asked for.

It wasn’t out of spite, nor was it an act of rebellion against customer service norms. It was simply your way of making sure people got exactly what they needed rather than what they thought they wanted.

Most of your regulars had adapted to this- especially the elderly man who came in every morning demanding a single plain scone and left delighted with a caramel-drizzled apple turnover. But then you got a new group of people.

The first time they walked into your bakery, you knew exactly what kind of men they were.

Soldiers. Hardened, disciplined, probably running on fumes and caffeine, and if the way they carried themselves wasn’t an indication, it was their clothes. Though you weren’t surprised; there was a base nearby, and you’d wondered when soldiers would start dropping by.

They carried the weight of long nights and heavier burdens, eyes scanning every corner of your cozy little shop like it was some kind of trap. Which, to be fair, it might have been.

Because nobody left your bakery with what they ordered.

The first stepped up to the counter. Blue eyes settled on you, sharp and assessing, like he expected you to obey just like that..

“Black coffee, love. No sugar, no cream.”

You glanced him over. Stiff shoulders, exhaustion hanging off him like a heavy coat. He needed warmth. Comfort. Something to loosen the knots in his back before they set in permanently.

“Got it.” You said.

Next up was the one in the balaclava. Tall, imposing, eyes dark as pitch. “Tea. No sugar, no milk.”

You raised an eyebrow. Tea wasn’t a bad choice, but judging by the way his fingers twitched against the counter, he wasn’t looking for something soothing- he was looking for something mindless, something habitual. He needed a bit of a shake-up.

“Sure thing.” You lied.

The third one leaned against the counter. The cap on his head was placed strategically to make him look more attractive than he already was when he tilted his head. “Americano.”

“Of course.” You said, already planning something completely different.

And then there was the last one. Built like a tank, with a mohawk and a Scottish accent.

“Black coffee.” He said.

You nearly laughed. Absolutely not.

With their orders taken- and their fates decided- you got to work.

A few minutes later, you carried their drinks to their table, sliding them in front of each man with a satisfied smile.

Mutton Chops was the first to frown. He stared at the London Fog in front of him, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting up from the cup.

“…This isn’t black coffee.” He said.

“Nope.” You hummed. “It’s Earl Grey, steamed milk, touch of honey. You looked like you needed something smooth. Something to relax.”

He studied you for a moment, then grumbled something under his breath and took a sip. His beard twitched slightly- almost a smile.

Balaclava, meanwhile, was frozen in place, staring at his Mexican hot chocolate like it might explode. “This isn’t tea.”

“You do actually like tea, but I think you shouldn’t be ordering it.” You mused. “You just drink it because it’s simple and familiar. This? Better than tea for now.”

He didn’t respond, so you continued.

“The chocolate’s warm, familiar, but the spice gives it a bit of a kick. Keeps you from getting too comfortable.”

Cap Guy was next, looking between his caramel macchiato and you with a raised eyebrow.

“Not an Americano.” he (uselessly) pointed out.

“Americano is boring,” you said with a grin. “You seem like the kind of guy who enjoys something sweet. Indulgent.”

He gave you a slow, considering look, then took a sip. His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as the caramel hit his tongue. “…Alright. Fair play.”

Then there was Mohawk.

He had been quiet the whole time, but now, he gawked at the Black Forest frappuccino in front of him like you had just served him a live grenade.

“Are you serious?” he demanded. “I asked for black coffee.”

“And I ignored you.” You gestured to the drink, entirely unapologetic. “You’re buzzing with energy, but you’re also dead on your feet. Black coffee would just make you more jittery. This, though? Sugar, chocolate, cherries- it’ll wake you up and make you happy. Ta-da!”

He eyed the extravagant swirl of whipped cream and chocolate shavings like it personally offended him. Then, cautiously, he took a sip.

Silence.

Then, in a hushed voice, “…Steamin’ Jesus.”

“Well, I only steam milk here… but I’ll take this as a compliment. Enjoy, gentlemen!”

Yeah, you knew exactly what kind of men they were. It might be just a touch too confident of you… but you know they would no doubt return.

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oceantornadoo · 5 months ago

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dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.” like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

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criminalamnesia · 1 year ago

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that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

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kathaelipwse · 18 days ago

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Just Come Here || Bangchan

Word Count: 1008 words

Trope: Secret Relationship · Hurt/Comfort · Idol x Non-Idol Partner [GN!Reader] · Soft Angst with Healing

Warnings: Mentions of emotional distress, crying, self-blame, affectionate physical comfort (hugs/kisses/cuddles)

Synopsis: After a wave of online backlash (k-stays and brazil-stays arguments), Bang Chan spirals into self-blame and emotional shutdown. When his secret partner comes home to find him falling apart, they gently pull him back into the warmth of love and remind him he’s never alone.

Author’s Note: This was written with love and empathy for Chan, who deserves nothing but support and kindness. To anyone who needs to hear it: you’re doing your best, and your heart matters.

Please keep in mind that all of this affects him majorly, and its human rights to be able to voice out his own opinion. As an idol he has a lot on his plate already and few stays adding more to it.... Is that what he deserves? Secondly, Stays. We were supposed to be a FAMILY, since when did we start falling apart? I remember the times all of us used to joke and laugh on memes. This fandom is starting to get toxic. We are not only hurting other stays, but also hurting our idols. Making them believe it was their FAULT. Are we fucking 5? We can do better than this. And he is in his late-twenties. He can voice out his opinion and none of us have to RIGHTS to dictate or twist his words. Its the first time I am disappointed in our fandom.We owe him the biggest apology.

You didn’t knock.

You didn’t need to.

Your key slipped into the lock with a quiet click, and a familiar ache settled in your chest as you let yourself into his apartment. It was shrouded in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. A single lamp in the corner cast long, distorted shadows, making the usually cozy space feel vast and empty.

And there he was.

Curled up on the couch, a dark hoodie swallowing him whole, his knees pulled so tightly to his chest it looked painful. He seemed determined to occupy the smallest possible space, as if wishing he could simply disappear.

You hadn’t heard from him properly all day. Just that terse, unsettling message along with the other apologies on bubble.

“Whatever I say becomes problematic.” “I don’t wanna talk now.”

The words replayed in your mind, each syllable laced with a weariness that was so unlike the vibrant, resilient Chan you knew. He wasn’t one to retreat into silence, not completely. Even when exhaustion weighed him down, even when the pressures of his world felt immense. Today, though… today felt different. Like a dam had finally broken.

You dropped your bag with a soft thud by the door, the sound seeming deafening in the stillness. You moved towards him slowly, each step measured, careful not to shatter the fragile quiet that surrounded him. He remained motionless, a statue carved in shadows.

“Chan,” you called softly, your voice barely a whisper as you crouched down beside the couch. “Baby, look at me.”

Nothing. He didn’t flinch, didn’t give any indication he’d heard you. His stillness was unnerving.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached out, your fingertips tentatively brushing against his arm. The fabric of his hoodie felt rough beneath your touch.

That’s when you noticed it – a subtle tremor running through his shoulders. Barely perceptible, but undeniably there. You gently pulled back the edge of his hood, just enough to glimpse his face, and the sight sent a sharp pang of anguish through you.

His skin was ashen, his eyes unnaturally bright and glassy, his lips pressed into a thin, white line that quivered almost imperceptibly. He wasn’t actively crying now, but the evidence was there – the redness around his eyes, the faint sheen of moisture on his lashes, the slight puffiness of his nose.

Without uttering a word, you settled onto the edge of the couch and carefully, slowly, pulled him towards you. He offered no resistance, his body yielding as if he lacked the strength to do otherwise. He slumped into your embrace, heavy and fragile at the same time, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair.

A choked sob escaped him, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that tore at your own throat.

And then another followed, and another, until the quiet sobs escalated into full-blown cries that shook his entire frame.

You held him tighter, rocking him gently, whispering soothing words against his hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head, again and again.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion as you threaded your fingers deeper into his naturally curly hair. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let it out. Just cry. You’ve held it in for far too long.”

He clung to you desperately, his small fists clenching and twisting into the fabric of your shirt. The sound of his pain was a physical weight on your chest, but you held yourself steady, strong for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself.

You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, a familiar gesture you knew often brought him a sliver of comfort. His curls felt soft beneath your touch, a little messy from the confines of his hood, but still so uniquely him. You kissed his temple, the warmth of your lips a stark contrast to his cool skin. You pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheek, any part of him you could reach.

“It’s not your fault, Chan,” you murmured softly, your voice a low hum against his ear. “I know what you said came from a good place, from love. And the people who truly know you, who see the real you, they understand that too.”

“I was just trying…” he choked out, his voice hoarse and thick with unshed tears. “I was just trying to make them feel seen, feel special. But now they’re all… they’re all fighting. Even the ones who usually… who are usually so kind are getting dragged into it. It’s like… no matter what I do, I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“Hey,” you said firmly, gently lifting his chin so his tear-filled eyes finally met yours. You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs softly wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. “Stop that. Stop thinking like that. You do so many things right, Chan. You pour your entire being into this, into your music, into your fans, your members. You care so deeply, so fiercely, that it breaks your heart when things get twisted. But that doesn’t mean you made a mistake in wanting to show your appreciation.”

He blinked at you, his gaze vulnerable and lost, tears still clinging stubbornly to his long lashes.

“You said it felt like home,” you whispered, your voice softening. You used your sleeve to gently dab at the remaining tears on his cheeks. You leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “And you meant that. You wanted to honor them, to acknowledge the comfort and belonging they give you, not to hurt anyone. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, Chan. In fact, there is everything right with that.”

Chan closed his eyes, his jaw tight, his lips still trembling. “I just… I hate that it hurts them. The fans who always defend me, who understand… the ones who always stand by me, no matter what…”

“You think you’re hurting them, baby. But the truth is – they’re hurting because you’re hurting,” you whispered, your voice laced with empathy. You kissed his cheeks again, both of them, your lips lingering for a moment, conveying all the love and reassurance you held for him. “They love you fiercely, Chan. And so do I. More than you’ll ever truly know.”

He leaned into your touch, a small sigh escaping his lips, as if he was finally starting to believe the words, just a little crack of light in the darkness. You pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“Let’s go lie down,” you murmured gently, taking his hand and guiding him up from the couch. His movements were sluggish, his energy completely depleted.

He followed you without a word, his hand gripping yours tightly, like a shadow seeking refuge in the light.

In the bedroom, he simply collapsed onto the bed, pulling you down with him, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist, his face pressing into your chest this time. You instinctively tightened your hold on him, your fingers resuming their gentle journey through his hair, tracing the familiar curve of his scalp.

“You always know,” he whispered after a long, quiet moment, his voice still rough. “You always know when I need you. You just… come.”

You smiled sadly, a bittersweet ache in your heart. “That’s what love is, isn’t it, Chan? Showing up. Even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. Even when you feel like you’re crumbling from the inside out. Especially then.” You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

He didn’t respond verbally, but he shifted closer, pressing a kiss to the center of your chest, right over your beating heart, holding you tighter as if you were his anchor.

Eventually, the hiccups of his sobs subsided.

The tension slowly seeped out of his body, the shaking finally ceasing.

And the silence that settled between you felt different now. It was no longer heavy with unspoken pain, but warm and comforting, a shared space of quiet understanding.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, tangled together beneath the soft blankets. One hand remained in his curls, the other rested against his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin softly until his eyelids fluttered shut, his breathing evening out. You pressed a final, lingering kiss to his temple.

“You’re allowed to be human, Chris,” you whispered, using his English name, the one you reserved for these quiet, intimate moments. “You’re allowed to feel everything, the good and the bad. You’re allowed to break down sometimes. But please, never forget… there is absolutely nothing broken about you. You are whole, you are loved, and you are enough.”

He didn’t answer, his breathing deep and even now.

But the way he held you, the possessive grip of his arms around your waist… the soft sigh that escaped his lips as he nestled closer…

You knew he heard you.

And in that moment, that quiet understanding, that unspoken connection, was more than enough.

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thekinslayed · 9 months ago

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Show Me Your World - (Edge of Desire Special Chapter)

summary | Glimpses of your ever blossoming marriage with Aemond, through the eyes of people around you.

pairing | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

tags | teeth rotting fluff! ooc aemond, mentions of oral (f), ooc criston lol, alicole tease idc sue me, third pov (?), pure marital bliss

song rec | My Kind of Woman - Mac Demarco

wordcount | 3.8k

note | surprise! this is my lil thank you gift for 2k hehe this isn't necessarily a pt 2, but Edge of Desire has received soo much love and i want to try and give even just a little bit back!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

There was no doubt that the marriage of princess Rhaenyra’s only daughter to the king’s second son caused much worry from the court. The strife between the Hightowers and the Targaryens was no secret, festering into a nasty, outward conflict that ended in a boy maimed, and a family divided by sea. Viserys the Peaceful, ever faithful to his name, sought to mend this rift.

In the moons following their marriage, it was plain to see the princess and the one-eyed prince rarely agreed with each other. A womb bearing no fruit, eyes rarely meeting, and twin frowns often decorating their features. The concerns aptly only grew. But then, something had shifted in the air.

The princess grew to be exuberant, practically glowing as her belly swelled with child. There was rarely a moment the prince was not found by her side, save for when he was training in the Keep’s yard, and even then, his ladywife was sure to be found on the castle’s balcony with a pleased smile on her face. Whispers of concern soon turned into that of courtly gossip, nobles and staff alike most eager to discover the secret in the couple’s newfound bliss. Many strained their neck to catch a glimpse of the two royals at court, keeping a close eye to notice any indication of a display of affection, though none of them ever did. The prince stood as stoic as ever, while you took your place beside him, hands clasped over your growing bump. Save for the communicative looks you exchanged now and then, the signs of a budding romance between the two of you were sparse.

It was rather odd. Such whispers from the servants would make it seem that the prince had somehow taken on a persona straight from their mother’s tales about love, like a dashing knight head over heels for his princess, but none of them ever caught such a glimpse. All except for one.

Sera was no significant person among the residents of the Red Keep. She was a servant, tasked with changing linens, emptying chamber pots, and seeing that the more valued inhabitants of the castle were satisfied. Any ounce of value in her low rank only came when she was made handmaiden to the princess. Stepping up to her new position, she would admit that she was quite curious. What she heard about your marriage piqued her interest, even more so when she began to step into the space that separated the royals from the lowborns.

In your private marital chambers, the whispers began to take form, proving themselves to be true. It became customary for her to hear the rhythmic thump, thump, thump coming from your bedchamber while she set up your morning meals in the solar. High-pitched moans would penetrate through the red brick, bringing about a hot flush in the young woman’s cheeks as she hastened to lay down the cutlery before scurrying off. Sera remained invisible, merely a shadow that passed through your life, invisible hands that aided in your day. She knew her place, especially when prince Aemond was in the room while she assisted the princess.

Once the copper tub was filled for your bath, she must make her leave in haste with one flick of the prince’s wrist.

When your husband started to approach your seated form upon the vanity as you readied for the day, Sera knew better and would step away so the one-eyed prince may inhabit your space, no matter the intricacy of the braids she was twisting your hair into. Averting her eyes, the servant could only listen to your dreamy sighs as your husband peppered kisses onto every bit of skin his lips could find.

Did it make her work lighter? Perhaps. It helped to serve two royals who wanted little but each other, who were never cruel or harsh with their tongue. It was odd to say such sentiments for what the court knew as the cold, rigid one-eyed prince, but marriage had changed much of him.

He was always handsome, despite the scar and the menacing glint in his good eye. The fearful aura he exuded in his stride made any good woman weak in the knees, coupled with that sleek, soft hair the shade of moonlight, and his lithe, tall form. Prince Aemond was far more fancied by the young maidens that served as the keep’s staff, Sera included.

It was a particularly beautiful morn when she realized this. The spring breeze brought about a lightness through the castle, while the early morning sun beamed with hope for warmth after winter’s end. Sera made her way through Maegor’s Holdfast, her feet taking a mind of its own as it led her to your chambers. She had been at your service for a few moons at this point, a routine suitably established with time and experience.

As she was granted entry by the White Cloak at your door, she made quick work to draw every curtain open, before making her way to the bedchamber. You must be awakened soon, and with a light knock, Sera was answered with a sleepy hum that indicated your rise.

However, such disruptions to one’s routine should always be expected. When she turned the doorknob with a soft greeting on her lips, Sera was taken aback by the sight that met her. You were, indeed, freshly awake, eyes half-lidded and hair aptly messed from the sheets, but with the addition of your husband’s kneeling form in between your thighs. His silver hair was loose, draped over his sculpted back as you gripped them in between your fingers. Neither of you seemed to notice the intruder, clearly lost in the dizzy haze of your pleasure as your hips continued to cant against Aemond’s face. It was her stunned gasp that made Sera’s presence known. For the first time, she had gotten too close, had touched the bubble that encased the couple in their marital bliss, and now it had burst.

Both royals snapped their heads towards the door, but it was prince Aemond that made her heart beat erratically in her chest. He was without his eyepatch, nor his clean updo that kept his mane out of his face, nor a tunic or any clothing for that matter. The dazzling sapphire glinted in the morning sun, drawing her into its tantalizing spell. It was a good thing her eyes stayed there, never drifting downward to the other treasure in between his legs for the scowl on Aemond’s face made his displeasure known.

“Out,” was all he said, sending poor Sera scurrying out of the room. You would apologize to her later in the day, giving her clammy hand a soft squeeze with nothing but gentleness in your face.

“Whatever happened to you?” Elara had asked her upon her return to the servant’s wing. The younger girl’s brows furrowed in confusion and slight worry at the beet-red flush on Sera’s face. Unlike her acquaintance, Elara’s experience with serving prince Aegon was nothing short of harrowing, and such a reaction on Sera was enough to have her assuming the worst. “Were you harmed?”

“No, no! Hells, I–” Sera stammered. When did she begin to perspire so much? Her nape was damp with flustered sweat from the aftermath of such embarrassment. Detailing the moments of her eventful morning was a struggle, even more so when Elara burst out giggling in her face. Sera slapped her hands over her face, groaning. “The prince wasn’t supposed to be there so late. He would be off to the yard with Ser Cole at this hour!”

The young blonde shook her head in amusement, hands still busy with folding linens. “Gods, the princess is a lucky one, isn’t she? Prince Aemond seems like a total dreamboat compared to his brother.” She leaned closer to Sera, whispering. “Did you see his—?”

“His what?” she replied, not fully understanding the cryptic tilt of her head and the smirk on her face.

“Well, you know… his High Tower!”

Both girls erupted into a fit of laughter, though old Hilda wasn’t too happy with their slacking off.

The second time Sera had found herself bestowed another close glimpse of the couple was during the hour of the owl. You were only a few days away from term, and the maester had you isolated for the rites of seclusion prior to your labors. Aemond, in an isolated state of his own, was forbidden to visit you even in daylight for propriety’s sake. Your marital chambers never felt so empty, with your absence ridding it of any life that came with your mere presence.

It was a miserable affair, both for you and your husband. Sera had seen how the separation was affecting her princess. You were lonely, weary from the aches of your belly, and losing your appetite from the desolate state of your chambers. It had her worried, even more so when word of your husband’s anxious state reached her ears. She ought to do something, but she had little power over the order of the maesters, even more so when it was approved by the queen herself.

Perhaps it was by fate when one night, she… forgot to close the door firmly behind her when she was granted her leave for the evening. It granted the prince entry, after many nights of pacing through the halls for any chance to slip into his wife’s chambers without being detected. She stayed in the shadows of an alcove, counting the minutes until she heard the familiar gait of the one-eyed prince taking the path she had just passed.

She couldn’t help herself. With featherlight steps, Sera tiptoed back to your door, peeking through the slight crack left ajar. What she saw almost had her thinking it was a repeat of that one morning, but it was something far more intimate.

There he was, the one-eyed prince Aemond, kneeling before your seated form like a devotee. His face was nuzzled into your lap, his arms wrapped around the swollen bump that housed your offspring. Your hands rubbed down his back soothingly, while your cheeks glistened under the dim light of your chambers. Tears of happiness, Sera realized. Like always, your husband peppered kisses all over— your hands, your belly, even on the swell of your bosom that threatened to spill from your garments.

It was nothing debauched, nor depraved, but filled with far more passion than she had ever seen in her young life. She had never seen two souls so profoundly intertwined, deep into the throes of your love in a way that seemed unfathomable in this cruel life. It was no fairytale, but very much real.

He looked unrecognizable like this, with a face so peaceful and a touch so gentle. His thin lips moved with words inaudible to Sera’s ears, but the way your face glowed brighter than it had been for these past days made the young girl’s chest swell with a yearning for something of her own. She could only pray that her princess would only find happiness in her marriage, and that the gods would grant herself a love that could be half as full as yours.

Prince Aemond was no man of big gestures. He was not one to scream his love from the rooftops, nor wear his heart on his sleeve, but with his forehead pressed into your bump, Sera learned that whispers of a true love were far greater than proclamations of folly.

Criston Cole did not believe in love. It was a fool’s wish. The only time he had gotten close to dabbling into the idea of it had left him broken, honor sullied for a princess who returned little of what he had given. Rhaenyra was a thorn in his past, and her bastards were a blatant reminder of his divulgence into her trap. Hence, his apprehension upon the news of the marriage of the heir’s only daughter to Alicent’s thirdborn.

What was he to say? To do? Nothing. Criston had overstepped his bounds once and it had ended with his white cloak dirtied and his sanity balanced on the tip of his sword. This match was doomed to fail, he had no doubt of it, but he kept his mouth shut. The Dornishman was quite famed for his good swordsmanship, and his humble beginnings, but especially more so of his handsome looks. Olive skin, luscious dark locks, and wide brown orbs that glimmered like topaz under the southern sun. Those eyes held less composure than the rest of his face. They were a window of his thoughts, and they spoke of the words his tongue held back. Cole’s contempt for Rhaenyra’s blood was ever evident in the sharp gaze he threw your way. You were of your mother’s sin, yet you walked in these halls as if though you were anything but a blaring reminder of it.

Criston knew of Aemond’s nature. He had spent many hours honing the young prince’s skills with a sword, had taken him and his mother to the Sept for their prayers. Cole had even held him while he writhed in pain when the maester took out the stitches of his slashed eye. The second prince shared his disdain for Rhaenyra and her brood, perhaps even more so than the knight himself. And so, he was well aware that Aemond found no positives in his marriage.

For a while, the knight believed the younger to share such sentiments, but the stories of your blossoming marriage had filtered through the Keep, inevitably reaching the ears of the White Sword Tower. His response was nothing but a scoff. Criston did not consider himself a believer of such change, but when he began to see it for himself, his views faltered.

Namedays of the royal family were always celebrated with grandeur and splendor. Helaena’s twins had just turned five, and the court had taken to the Kingswood for the royal hunt. It was a splendid affair, the young babes garnering much attention from the guests. Aegon, surprisingly enough, was enthusiastically present for his children. The elder held much love for his children, and it made for an endearing sight to see. This had lightened the attention on prince Aemond and his ladywife, who were bound to be parents of their own.

The news of your pregnancy had garnered much praise and well wishes from the court, and before you even began to grow round with child, all eyes were constantly on you and Aemond. Though that night, you had been granted reprieve.

Cole stood beside the queen Alicent as she sat, ever faithfully upholding his duty. It was customary for him to scan the room constantly, keeping himself aware of any potential threat to his queen. There he found prince Aemond and his ladywife, secluded in their own little corner of the royal tent.

You had whispered something into Aemond’s ear with a cherubic smile, before covering your mouth with a ringed hand as giggles spilled from your lips. The knight fought back the urge to roll his dark, chocolate orbs at such a display, knowing the second prince well enough that such behavior did not bode well with him.

Yet, he found himself mistaken. In the dim amber glow of the royal pavilion, it was easy to overlook the way Aemond’s silver tresses swayed as his head bowed followed by the most peculiar sight. The leather of his doublet moved up and down as his shoulders shook. Criston may have been granted only the sight of the prince’s back, but it was plain enough to see.

He was laughing.

In all his years serving the Hightowers, the most he had ever seen from Aemond was a smirk, or a dark chuckle when he bested his mentor while they trained. Cole believed his eyes to be deceiving him, but the pleased look on your face and the bubbling laughter that echoed through the night was testament enough that you had the power to loosen the prince’s otherwise rigid grip on his composure. You were stuck to his side, heads huddled together as you whispered about gods know what. It might have been the wine or the warmth exuded by the torches littered about, but your cheeks were flushed like a rose.

Beyond his conscience, the sight had pulled a smile of his own. Something akin to elation sweltered in the knight’s chest. It pleased him to see the prince so relaxed, free from the tension he always carried. Criston would have you to thank for it.

Beside him, Alicent was looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Her sworn shield seldom found things that amused him, and even then, it was rather disturbing to her. “What amuses you, good ser?” she asked, taking Criston by surprise. His cheeks quickly dropped to his usual formal state, throat clearing to regain his composure. The queen, ever observant followed where his eyes had flickered to. Across from where she sat, her second son held an arm around his wife’s waist, whispering into each other’s ear while sharing a cup of wine. Wide smiles mirrored each other, their gazes focused on no one else but them. The sight made the queen’s cheeks dimple into a small smile, a warmth in her motherly heart filling her with hope. It had been many years ago when Alicent deemed herself cursed by the gods, given a fate so cruel. It had shaken her faith, even more so when it appeared to have trickled down to her children. Aemond had the worst of it— a dragon egg turned to stone, an eye cruelly taken, and a ghost of a father. She feared for what may become of him, with his wrath and fury that seemed to guide his aspirations. Yet now, as she watched her favored son let his wife take his cheek into her hand so publicly, Alicent prayed that the tides were turning for him. Perhaps you might change his fate. Perhaps he might be spared yet. “He’s been quite happy as of late,” Alicent mentioned, turning to Criston. A look filled with mirth equaled that of the Dornishman before her, who nodded in agreement.

“He has, my queen. It pleases me greatly to see the prince so content. The princess brings out the best in him,” Cole replied. They shared smiles of their own, and the knight felt emboldened by the glee they shared. He shuffled ever so closely to her seat, the warmth exuding from her pale flesh emanating through the cold steel of his armor. As they both watched you take Aemond’s hand to lead him out of the pavilion, Criston willed himself to keep his composure as Alicent ever so subtly leaned against his arm.

Criston was present in much of what happens in the royal family. He was there for every nameday, every birth, and every milestone that Alicent’s children had. Albeit, he was in the background, but he was there. It did not change when they became parents themselves, with Helaena and Aegon having three babes, while Aemond and his ladywife were now about to have a child of their own.

Aemond had been an anxious mess all morning. Your labors had begun just as dawn broke, and pursued well through noon. Queen Alicent made her way to your chambers to check on your well-being as soon as the council dispersed, with Cole naturally in tow. Your husband had to be pushed back by several knights as the grand maester forbade him to enter the birthing chamber, fighting to be by your side. Your wails and cries had him distressed, even more so when he could clearly hear you call for him. It was only when his mother arrived did Aemond settle, uneasily staying in the common room as she was permitted to see you in his stead. “This is her fight, Aemond. You must let them do their work,” Alicent said, planting a soothing kiss on her son’s cheek before entering the birthing chamber.

His mother’s presence did little to quench his worries, and the one-eyed prince had settled to lean on the windowsill, fists clenched on the stone as his head bowed. From his place by the door, Cole approached him with quiet steps, settling beside his tense form. “She will be alright,” he said. “The princess is strong. A dragon in her own right.” He was responded by only a grunt from the younger, who kept his good eye closed as he steadied his breathing.

It was quiet between the two, just as it always was with Aemond. The only sound in the room was your outcries of pain that only seemed to grow louder by the minute. With a heavy sigh, Aemond spoke. “What did she thank you for?”

“My prince?” Criston asked, confused.

“My wife. When she first arrived from Dragonstone, I heard her whisper her thanks to you, and her apology for having done so too late. What did she have to thank you for?”

Cole huffed a small chuckle at the memory. It was many, many years ago when you were merely a girl. You used to play with Helaena in the gardens so often, especially during the spring afternoons when the butterflies danced above the bushels of flowers. Alicent would find time to watch over the young princesses, with her sworn shield following their tail through the royal gardens.

One afternoon, both girls had been so enthusiastic with the amount of colorful butterflies that flittered about. Helaena had her eyes set on a pretty blue one, crossing the wooden footbridge over the small pond in the middle of the greenery.

The pair made haste to follow the girls, but you came running back, with a quivering frown. You had clutched onto Criston’s cloak, refusing to cross over the small, wooden bridge. It was littered with frogs from the pond. The tiny green things gave you a fright, and Criston had to carry you in his arms over to where Helaena played in the grass. Your excitement had quickly been restored once your fear was gone, short legs quickly wriggling out of the knight’s grip to rejoin your aunt.

A decade later, you voiced your regrets over your rudeness and thanked Criston for his help on that day.

“It was for something so little that did not require such importance, but the princess was gracious to remember so,” Cole smiled. Aemond’s lips had lifted into a smile of his own at the thought of you, slim cheeks dimpling.

“She is full of nothing but kindness,” the prince said fondly, straightening his posture with more ease. “I am rather undeserving of it.” Aemond’s response made Cole frown, the elder knight clasping the prince’s shoulder in a fatherly squeeze.

“The gods have deemed you most deserving of it, Aemond. You were fated for each other. I have witnessed no other pair to have been more well suited in this lifetime, believe me.” Such words were so foreign to leave Cole’s lips, but they held no lie. A shrill cry had then pierced through the air, and Alicent had opened the door with a wide smile on her face. ‘Tis a girl! was her exclaim, and Aemond had rushed off from Criston’s side to see his wife.

Pleased, the knight stayed in his place, off to the side as the royals celebrated yet a new beginning in their lives.

Criston may not believe in love, nor has he felt it, but he has seen it.

It could be quite beautiful, he realized.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #criston cole x reader

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cherrixpie · 4 months ago

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HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part one of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it

↬ sfw; only fluff this chapter; wc: 3.4k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor!reader

( masterlist )

The chill of the night air bit at your exposed cheeks as you climbed the final steps to the astronomy tower, your breath visible in faint puffs. Winter had arrived particularly early this year, chilling your bones even now, on the last weekend of october. The school lay quiet below, the golden glow of the countless windows no longer having given in to the darkness of a cold autnumm night.

You pulled your robe tighter around you, wincing at the faint creak of the wooden door as it swung open by the push of your hand. You knew you shouldn't be out after curfew- your brother was usually the one breaking rules and making trouble- but the pull of him was irrestible. He, who’s voice cut through the haunting silence like a knife.

“I was starting to think you wouldn't show.”

You froze mid-step, your heart leaping to your throat at the familiar voice. Even though you had been expecting it. Theodore Nott was was leaning casually against the stone railing, his pale face bathed in the cold light of the moon that sharpened every dip and curve in the prettiest way. A light smirk was curling at the corner of his lips, his usual cigarette dangling from his pink lips. His green slytherin tie was loosened, his robes slightly crumpled, as if he’d wandered here on a whim rather than planned this meeting. But you knew better. Theo rarely did anything without careful thought.

“I had to make sure the coast was clear,” you replied, trying to copy his nonchalance. His dark eyes followed you closely as you crossed the space between you, coming to a halt a few feet away from the railing to keep some distance between you and the abyss. It was funny how you could ride a stick of wood regularly, tens of meters in the air, but looking down a great height with steady floor under you feet had nausea creep up your chest.

You tried not to shift under his prying eyes. Being eyed up by Theodore Nott was a rather particular feeling. Every time you met his eyes, you felt like he was staring right through you, blowing through every cover, every mask, every wall you had ever shielded your true self with and assessing it with disarming precision. As you returned his stare, his smile widened a little and he puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve gotten better at sneaking around, though. Tell me, do the Potter genes include an innate sense of rule-breaking?”

“And here I was, thinking I was your ‘good girl’,” you replied, quoting his teasing nickname. A rare laugh escaped his throat, more of a huff, really, that he hid in his hand holding the cigarette. You eyed it reproachfully.

“You’re going to die at a very young age, Theo.”

Slightly puzzled, he looked down at you, blowing smoke into the air and holding out an arm to beckon you closer. Answering the silent invitation, you let him nudge you towards him gently, the cigarette-free hand pulling you closer by the waist. “Is that a threat, cara? Because I could think of no better way to die than by your gentle hands.”

The charming bastard got a hold of said hands that were shivering slightly from the cold as you had forgotten to put gloves on, and pressed a gentle kiss onto your palm, carefully watching your reaction. You could only pray he took the flush on your cheeks as a symptom of the cold rather than your flustered reaction to his Italian.

“That's not what I meant,” you frowned, indicating the cigarette between his slender fingers. “What I meant was that you’re going to smoke yourself into an early grave.”

God, the way his eyelashes caught the few too-early snowflakes melting hopelessly on the ground. You gave a high-pitched tone of surprise when suddenly, he surged forward, pulling you even closer and trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Tell me you’d hate that,” he whispered and you gave him an incredulous look he couldn't see.

“Of course I’d hate that!”

Before you could say anything else, Theo discarded the cigarette over the railing. Though you had no time to follow the tiny glowing ember on its way down, because just a fraction of a second later, his lips crashed into yours and you let out a startled squeak. Feeling him smile against your lips, you kissed him back in a weak attempt to take the initiative. He allowed you to play, but the movement of his hands, the caging of his arms and the way he beckoned your mouth open so easily proved his underlying dominance. Theo just wasn't beatable at kissing.

This was what you had been looking forward to all day, sitting through transfiguration, charms and defense against the dark arts, all subjects you had without him, stealing longing glances over dinner and quickly looking back as to avoid drawing the attention of your friends or brother to the silent exchange.

As the kiss got more heated, Theo’s fingers curled into your sides, spinning you around so you were with your back to the railing. Miraculously, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All there was in this microcosm of the two of you was him, you and the feeling of his lips on yours. One hand of his cupped your jaw, angling it slightly back to gain best access to your throat. As his lips trailed down the expanse of it, nipping, kissing and sucking, you found yourself snapping out of your theo-kiss-induced haze and pulled away aprubtly.

Panting, you covered Theo’s lips with one hand and he raised his eyebrow at you. He did that well, his eyes alone could make your stomach flutter. But you didn't give in. “Theo, what if someone sees marks on my-” You're were a little embarrassed about the subject matter, breaking off mid-sentence, and glared at his shit-eating grin, invisible behind your hand. “Well, I mean-” You were blushing. Oh god, you were blushing like crazy.

“Did you not enjoy that, cara?” Theo whispered seductively, carefully prying your hand from his mouth and kissing it gently. His eyes glinting with mirth, he looked at you challengingly.

“Of course I did!” you said, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. You hated it when Theo took advantage of your unfamiliarity with intimacy and relationships. “But nobody can see!”

You expected him to tease you some more, so you were surprised when he merely breathed a long sigh and pulled you into his chest. Immediately, you buried your nose in his robes that smelled of him so deliciously. Smoke, old wood, a hint of mint, bookshelves. You felt him breathe your scent in as well, nose buried in your hair, and laughed lightly, but he didn't join in. His voice was a whisper, hard to make out.

“How long do you think we can keep this up before someone finds out?”

You didn't want to answer the question.

Something picking at the back of your hand snapped you out of your drowsy state. Still tired from last night, you had dozed off a little in history of magic, but as soon as you caught the culprit of the picking at your hands, a hardly suppressed smile pulled at your lips. It was a little paper bird, and the fancy handwriting clearly indicated it as a note from Theo.

You waited until Professor Binns turned his back to the class to write on the blackboard, before carefully slipping the note into your lap, shielding it from Hermoine who sat next to you, taking notes. When you carefully folded the note open, you were greeted by Theo’s elegant handwriting.

If you keep chewing on your quill like that, I might lose my ability to concentrate.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you glanced sideways at him, where he sat a few rows behind your brother who had his head buried in his folded arms, fast asleep. Theo was leaning back in his chair, his quill poised lazily over his parchment as though he had been diligently taking notes, instead of composing witty distractions. His lips curved into a light smirk when your eyes met, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Well?

You hastily scribbled back, your handwriting looking sloppy and slanted next to his. Maybe I'm trying to distract you. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Nott. With a flick of your wand, the note floated subtly back to his desk, and you could barely contain a smile as his brows lifted in amused surprise before he began to write again.

Turning to the blackboard to copy the notes, you felt Hermoine's eyes on you and looked up from your parchment. She was eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” she whispered, sparing a nervous glance at the professor. “Nothing,” you answered, hastily grabbing the next messenger pigeon out of the air before it could enter your friend's vision. You could practically feel Theo chuckling at your unlucky predicament.

But Hermoine turned back to Binns once more to listen to his sermon and you stuffed the bird into your back subtly to read it after class and away from prying eyes.

“You’d be a half-decent Chaser if you didn't spend half the match showboating,” Theo drawled, his tone so casual it was clearly meant to provoke.

He leaned against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed as he regarded you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. You, meanwhile, were sprawled across the emerald-green bedspread of his four-poster, arms tucked behind your head like you owned the place. At his words, you shot up immediately, propping yourself up on one elbow. “That's rich coming from the guy who winks at the crowd every time he scores- what’s that, part of your technique?”

The slytherin dormitory was quiet, except for crackling of the enchanted fire in the corner and the endless string of your playful teasing. Theo and you had the room for yourselves today as his mates were in Hogsmeade and Theo had stayed behind with the excuse of homework. As if he hadn't already finished all his work like the flawless O-grader he was.

“And anyway, I don’t see you scoring against Gryffindor’s defense without half your team clearing the way for you.” you teased, attempting to get a rise out of your ever calm and collected boyfriend.

But Theo’s smile only deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Jealous of my stats, are we, Potter? It’s not my fault you lot rely on your Seeker for every win.”

“You-” you started, your eyes narrowing, but his soft chuckle cut you off. You tossed one of his pillows at him instead, grinning when he caught it effortlessly. “Just keep laughing, Nott. You’ll regret it next match when I leave you in the dust.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your ankle and shrieked as you were pulled towards him with alarming force. Before you could comprehend the shift in his behavior, he jolted forward as well, hovering over your body, sprawled out defenselessly underneath him. A light smile played around his lips as he took in your shocked expression with satisfaction and he brought a gentle hand up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving him access to your neck.

Theo dipped his head down to trail ghostly kisses down to your shoulder, muttering against your skin: “Are you sure about that, tesoro? Because I think you’ll have to work on your reaction time a bit before you can beat me.”

“Sneaky bastard,” you said, but couldn't suppress a high-pitched moan when Theo suddenly buried his teeth in your shoulder. Embarrassed by the sound that had slipped from your lips, you threw your hand over your mouth and blushed when he chuckled darkly into your neck.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he teased, looking up at you through his long dark lashes. Your pointed glare and flushed cheeks were answer enough.

When Theo broke out into a hearty laugh, you attempted to scowl at him, but it was hard when you were half in wonder by the sound of his laughter you got to hear so rarely. All the years you hadn't known Theo except for that one slytherin boy, you thought he couldn't laugh. When he did it for the first time with you, talking in the library over a muggle book you both had read and neither of you could talk to anyone else about, that was the first time you felt a flutter of butterflies rummaging in your stomach in his presence.

Awestruck by the sound of his laughter, you realized you had spaced out for a moment. Theo’s cackle had faded into a soft smile you could only reciprocate. His handsome features were painted with a gentle brush by the light of the fire. “You should laugh more often,” you said, not for the first time. “It’s beautiful.”

Theo hummed amused and leaned on his elbows to hover only a few inches above you. At this angle, his dark curls fell into his eyes, obstructing the view somewhat, so you reached up to run a hand through them. Savoring your touch, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, they held an implicit hunger that made you gulp. “I like your laugh too, tesoro. Love it, in fact,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from yours and you were itching to close the space in between. “And what I also love is y-”

Something banged at the door and both of you shot up, startled. As you stared at it unmovingly, the chatter of boy’s voices now unmistakably being heard through the closed door, Theo, the ever-quick thinker, jumped off the bed and beckoned you to follow. You shot up, heart thrumming with horror, scrambling onto your belly and rolling under Theo’s bed as far back as possible. With one quick glance to check if you were okay, that you answered with a silent thumbs-up, Theo got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it.

“Theo, you bloke! Why did you lock the fucking door?” you heard a voice that sounded very much like Mattheo Riddle's shout. Several heavy steps resounded against the wooden floor and from under the bed, you could make out four pairs of shoes, undoubtedly belonging to Riddle, Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini.

“I was studying,” Theo said, annoyance shimmering through his voice. “I prefer to do that undisturbed.”

You silently thanked the heavens that you and Theo had actually been studying before and therefore supplanted convincing evidence consisting of books and parchment. But suddenly, another realization dawned on you and your stomach curled with dread. Your parchment was up there too, with your handwriting and your name on it!

Theo’s eyes had also fallen on your parchment and he casually strolled over to his bed to collect it, concealing it with his and setting it aside. He felt annoyance rise within him and tried to keep it at bay. Of course his mates would barge in unexpectedly early in the exact moment he was about to confess his love to you. Clearing his face of any resemblance of emotion, he turned back around, leaning against his bedpost and trying his best not to worry about you, squeezed under his bed.

“You’re early,” he remarked, raising one brow. A memory almost made his lips twitch, of you trying to imitate the way he was able to raise one brow.

The boys threw glances at each other, some wary, but Blaise laughed. Only now did Theo notice his bleeding lip, and the others didn't look better of. Damn. He was really distracted when he hadn't even noticed it until now, when he always counted on his flawless perceptional ability.

“Who did you brawl with?” he sighed, though amused, looking directly at Mattheo who raised his hands in defense.

Draco nodded his way, dapping at a cut above his eyebrow with his shirt. “Mattheo picked a fight with Potter and some of his mates and we had to flee the scene before the old McGonagall caught us. Potter and Weasley got detention though.” He laughed in malicious joy and Theo's lips twitched slightly at the thought of you rolling your eyes under the bed.

“Potter’s sister wasn't with them though,” Enzo pondered, swapping out his slightly bloody hoodie for a clean one. When his head ascended from his collar, hair slightly disheveled, he was met with four pairs of raised brows. Well, three pairs plus one.

“What do you care about Potter’s sister?” Mattheo grinned wolfishly and Enzo rolled his eyes, chucking his bloody hoodie at him that got Mattheo right in the laughing face. Over that, he thankfully missed the subtle clench of Theo’s jaw at hearing him say ‘Potter’s sister’ in such an invidous tone.

Enzo, evidently, didn't like it either, which didn't help Theo’s irritation that he hid behind a mask of indifference. “She’s actually quite nice,” Enzo retorted, rolling his eyes at Mattheo’s and Blaise’s teasing whistles.

“Where’d you talk to her?” Theo asked, making his words sound so utterly indifferent nobody picked up on his sudden focus on the subject.

Under the bed, your heart did a little leap when you realized why he was asking. Though Theo was no outright jealous person, you sometimes caught him stealing glances at your male friends, voice tightening subtly when he talked about them. Anytime you teased him for it, he denied it, of course, saying jealousy was irrational and for fools because he knew you would never even glance at them. Hearing his inquire, you made a mental note to taunt him with it when this was all over.

“The library,” Enzo said, sitting down on his bed and taking one of his novels off the shelve. “I’m lousy in Arithmetic, as you know, and she isn't.”

“I’m surprised she even talked to you,” Blaise said as he magically fixed his lip in the mirror, making sure it looked flawless and untainted. “From what I gather, she’s the biggest goody-two-shoes in school, and a Griffindor ontop of that, why would she associate with a Slytherin?”

Enzo only shrugged, and Mattheo let out a loud groan as he longed himself at his bed that creaked under his impact. “Merlin, why are we still talking about Potters? There is so much more interesting stuff to talk about. Like what Theo has been doing today. Or who.”

He threw a teasing smile Theo’s way who raised his brow nonchalantly. “I told you, I was studying.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mattheo yawned, but kept his gaze fixed in his friends indecipherable expression. “You’re already five steps ahead in class, every assignment this year you got back with an O, what would you need to study for? Not to mention, you’ve been sneaking out more lately, and I bet it’s not ‘cause you’re dating Filch.”

Theo returned his stare unblinkingly, keenly aware of the fact that you were listening to every word. “So what if I am?” A slight smile graced his lips as he leaned his head against the bedpost. “Can't I fuck who I want?”

“Sure,” grinned Mattheo, unrelenting. “But you haven't done a lot of sleeping around for the last few months, from what I can gather. Seems to me like your man-whore-heart finally rests in the hands of only one unlucky girl.”

“Your audacity calling me fickle when you’ve slept your way through every willing girl in our grade is obnoxious,” Theo sneered, making the other boys laugh and directing the conversation towards the ravenclaw girl who’s heart Mattheo had broken just yesterday. With the other boys distracted, Theo dared kneeling down, pretending to tie his shoelaces while at the same time peering into the dark under his bed.

His eyes met yours in an instant as you raised your brows teasingly, and as he rose to his feet, Theo could hardly suppress a little smile that dared creep upon his face.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #Theodore Nott x griffindor!reader #wizarding world #wizarding world x reader #secret relationship

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free-slutt · 7 months ago

Text

𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙍 | 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕

a/n: I'm currently awake at 4 am and unable to sleep ive been having some thoughts that I needed to release, and writing this is helping me feel better. this is my first time writing something explicit, so I apologize if it's not the best. please forgive any grammar mistakes. i hope you enjoy reading it. <3

summary: you are searching for a personal trainer and come across an online ad. after calling the trainer, he arranges a session at his home gym. things start to take a spicy turn between the two of you.

warning: smut! 18+ oral (m receiving), spanking, getting manhandled, fingering, pet names like “doll, babygirl” squirting, praising, degrading, rough!!

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when you move to california to pursue your dream of becoming a model or influencer, you leave behind your family, job, and friends. unfortunately, the move also means leaving behind your favorite place: the gym.

many label me a gym rat, but I simply embrace my love for the discipline it brings and the amazing confidence it gives me in everything I wear.

in the evening, while browsing through tiktok , i suddenly felt a wave of boredom. i let out a sigh, turned off my phone, and began searching for an engaging activity. normally, in situations like this, i would change into my favorite workout attire and head to the gym. however, as i am not at home, i need to find a gym or a personal trainer of my own in this new location.

i opened my macbook and started searching for personal trainers in my new area. I came across a profile of a man who seems to have a lot of experience in the gym and is conveniently located nearby. i must admit, he looks delicious. i decided to message him to arrange a meeting and inquire about his session rates. he responded promptly with his pricing and availability, and it turns out he's available tomorrow morning. as we exchanged goodbyes over text, my mind couldn't help but focus on meeting him in person. if I'm already feeling this way based on some online pictures, i can only imagine how I'll feel when we meet face to face.

i wake up suddenly to the sound of my alarm. as i pick up my phone, i see that it's 5:30. the familiar feeling of nervousness churns in my stomach as i realize that I'm in a new city, about to meet someone new. i made sure to wake up extra early just to ensure that i look my best.

after my shower, i breeze through my skincare routine and add a touch of mascara and some lip balm. I'm just heading to the gym, so nothing too over-the-top, i tell myself. i apply a light moisturizing lotion and a spritz of my favorite perfume. i slip into my matching black bra and thong, then into my sleek all-black workout set with cute black leggings and a fitted black tee. i slide on my nike socks and lace up my new balance 574’s. i brush my hair and secure it with a stylish claw clip, still debating whether to leave it down or tie it up. I'll make up my mind in the uber.

i send him a text to inform him that I'm on my way to the location he had sent me. he reads the message but doesn't reply. oh well, I'm on my way already.

as we pull into his driveway, i can't help but notice how stunning his house is. i wonder what he does for work; being in california, he must be wealthy or famous. i tip my uber driver in cash, thanking him for the ride, and he wishes me luck. I'm definitely going to need it.

i grab my phone out but before i can send him a text i hear a whistle which caught my attention i looked up seeing him standing next to his front door i can’t help but check him out and oh my goodness he’s more attractive in person i can just rip his clothes off right here and there but i have to remain calm im not here for that.

he is wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, with a gold chain around his neck. his hair is lightly stuck to his forehead, indicating that he had a workout before I arrived.

“hey there” he smiles and waves signaling me to come in with his hand

i smile back and step into his house him standing behind me the whole time closing the door and walking towards me

"I'm nicholas, I'm your trainer. It's nice to meet you." oh my, his smile. his smile. his smile. I'm going to fold, i know I am, but I have to keep my calm. i don't even know him. i don't know if he's single or even married.

“hi, i’m y/n” i take his hand shaking it lightly

"come on, don't be shy," he takes us to his gym and confidently sits down on a bench, gesturing for me to sit next to him with a wave of his hand.

so demanding already.

“so tell me a little bit about yourself, i know you told me you just moved here but what’s the reason for the move and why are you looking for a trainer?” he asked curiously.

“well, i moved here to cali so it’ll be easier for me to achieve some of my goals, i have some experience in the gym but i really feel like ill learn a lot more with a trainer if that makes any sense” you smile shyly causing nicholas to chuckle a little.

“no need to be shy sweetie im here to help you you already look great im sure you’ll do a great job” i cross my legs just at the sound of his voice saying those loving praises, oh i need him so bad.

he notices but tries not to make it so obvious he grabs his water bottle taking a sip and putting down standing up tapping the side of my thigh gently “come on let’s get started”.

we begin with some easy stretches to warm up before the actual run. i couldn't help but notice that he mostly stood there, watching, instead of actively instructing and guiding me, which did bother me a bit.

“do an extended puppy pose for me” i look up at him and he just winks OH. he knows what he’s doing so i decide to play along as well.

as i get on all fours getting ready to get in the pose arching my back a little i can see nicholas from the side of my eye starting so hard i can’t help but silently giggle to myself.

“am i doing this good enough nicholas?? how’s my arch looking” he chuckles at my words a little.

“oh you’re doing so good y/n, you look amazing but i think you need a little help here” he comes down next to me getting on his knees right behind my ass and pushing my arch down so my stomach is hitting the floor beneath me.

“just like that?” I question.

“just like that, good girl” those words sent shivers down my spine i let out a soft sigh.

“what’s the matter sweetie?” he questioned.

i shake my head not responding to him “can we just do the next exercise?” i get on my knees so i can stand up but he comes in front of me putting one hand on my shoulder keeping me on my knees.

“let’s do some leg spreads i’ll help and guide you”.

i lay on the mat on my back and nicholas gets down on his knees again grabbing one of my legs bending it back a little.

“let’s start of slow sweetie i don’t want to hurt you”.

after doing a couple of reps nicholas stops and can’t help but notice something.

he chuckled “someone’s excited?”.

“what?” i ask not getting exactly what he’s talking about.

he spreads my leg a little further back.

“you’re so wet you’ve leaked through your panties it’s all on those leggings of yours”.

“i-im so sorry i-“ he cut me off.

“don’t worry about it doll, im having way more fun than you could possibly imagine” he bends down to kiss me and i went full in, tongue and everything.

after a few minutes of us making out he rips open my leggings with his bare hands which caused me to throw my head back and lightly groan, his eyes burning into my skull the whole time. never once taking those beautiful brown eyes off of me.

he pulls my panties to the side.

grabbing my mouth harshly “open and spit”.

i did as told, he sticks them in my mouth reaching the back of my throat causing to me gag.

he laughed and smiled “think you take all of my dick in there huh babygirl?”.

he pulled my panties to the side and started playing with me lightly flicking the clit and switching between fingering me and playing with my clit.

the groans escaping his mouth seemed a little animalistic like he hasn’t touched a woman in a very long time he’s eager and i can tell he wants to fuck me into the ground literally.

“mmm you’re so fucking wet, you’ve been excited since you got here hm? or was it those photos i sent you last night that has you like this for me? horny and ready to get fucked by her trainer? it’s only day one babygirl and here you are legs spread open pussy juice dripping all over my fucking fingers, what am i going to do with you”.

i moan loudly his words. his actions. the sounds. everything just feels and sounds so fucking good i didn’t want him to stop.

“oh im gonna come” i felt the urge to release the feeling you get in your stomach when you know your going to cum and go crazy “please dont stop nicholas”.

“such a fucking good girl” he kept pumping his big thick fingers in and out of me which caused me to release all over his gym floor.

“oh shit baby, look at you fuck” he says rubbing my clit on a fast pace, i grabbed his hand trying to get him to stop since it feels way to good to handle.

“please” he grabs my face and kisses me harshly shoving his tongue all down my throat saliva dripping down in between the both of us.

“come on take this off” he removes my shirt and bra taking off what’s rest of the leggings throwing it somewhere in the gym.

he takes his shirt and sweats off leaving him completely exposed no boxers or anything on, he knew what he wanted to do.

“come on baby get on your knees let’s see if you can fit this dick all in that pretty mouth of yours, gagging on two fingers. that’s pathetic sweetheart you got to do better than that”.

i get on my knees and take his member into my hand lightly kissing and licking his desperate throbbing dick leaking pre cum everywhere, i quickly take my tongue and clean up the mess he made.

“now this is a great mouth exercise for you pretty you’ll love it” he laughs and i roll my eyes member still in my mouth looking up at him not breaking eye contact.

“oh come on” he pushes my head down taking his whole dick into my mouth repeatedly touching the back of my throat i tap and grab on his thighs signaling i needed to breath and catch my breath, he threw his head back in pleasure looking back down grabbing my hair and pulling me off of his dick.

“told you you couldn’t take it”

“mmm stop let me do it” i pout he reaches his hand and cups my cheek and caressing my hair rubbing circles on the top of my head.

i grab his dick taking him all in and taking him out grabbing it and lightly jerking him off, as i continue to jerk him off i suck off what’s left that i couldn’t fit in my mouth.

“mm fuck”

“just like that baby”

“such a good fucking girl for me”

i take him in once again feeling him twitch making sure he’s hitting the back of my throat so i can swallow all of his sweet juices.

he grabs my hair making it into a makeshift ponytail fucking my face at the perfect pace for him, he looks so good he can just take control and do what he wants at this point.

i feel him twitch again which means he’s super close this time he didn’t let me go he made sure he stayed in the back of my throat resting his cock in my mouth while he released all inside of my mouth.

“swallow that shit baby be a good fucking girl for me”

oh boy, this is just the first session i wonder what’s going to happen next time.

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#nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader

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