#and the politics were there long before that
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simpjaes · 1 day ago
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wife material.
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Anonymous asked: Being arranged to jay in a marriage and hes distant at first but notices his new partner who has a nice plush ass, wide hips and plump tits. His brain goes mmm breeding material but youre just an innocent girl with a pornstar body?
WORDCOUNT: 1.1k
NOTE: tumblr wouldn't let me answer it as an ask :/ also, not proofread.
So, you're in an arranged marriage for more than one reason. Rather than being "innocent", you're just a total bimbo. Fr, everything you've ever wanted or needed has been handed to you on a silver platter. Your parents are super protective of you though, mostly out of fear that you'd be taken advantage of, right? right.
So, you've never had a boyfriend, no girlfriend, no friends [outside of the maids and nannies that you spend so much time with.] You were homeschooled, never expected to go to college either, because why work if you're already well taken care of and financially protected?
Your parents suggest an arranged marriage, mostly so they can choose and judge who you will be spending your life with. They don't trust you to go out into the world and find someone suitable, after all, so....why not make an arranged marriage work for the whole family? Jay is the first son of a rich C.E.O and is expected to take over the business sooner rather than later. He's polite, bordering too-stoic, but very much a good man in your parent's eyes. He appears to see the arrangement as a business deal rather than anything else, after all, he was raised much like you were except...he's a man. He has needs, and they are frequently met by using the lovely little black card. He's not looking for love anyway, the late nights to the VIP club lounges is really all he needs. Until he saw you. Until he fucking saw you. What he thought would be a great boost to business and a good little photo op, where you're married to him but both of you just do your own thing....turns into, well-
"Shit, are you a virgin?" Jay shushes you before you can answer. Your little whimper of "It hurts" ringing too loudly in his ears. Still, he feels the nod as he presses your face into the pillows with a hand at the back of your neck.
His eyes roll back in pleasure at your nod. Honestly, with a body like that? A virgin? He'd have figured you've fucked around by now. But you haven't, and that just might be the greatest thing he's heard all fucking day. So, he points his hips with intention now, penetrating deep. If at all because he can't fucking help it.
"Can't believe they're just giving you to me." You can't answer with the corner of the pillow in your mouth and all, but even if you could, you wouldn't know what to say to him. Marriage. Business. He'd support you, wait on you hand and foot? Yes. That's what you expected. Honestly, the idea of sex has been forbidden from you for so long that you half expected your father to keep that rule with Jay too, even after marriage. And here you are, meeting him briefly at his house just a week before the wedding. Your driver had dropped you off, the intention of the visit being to finalize all of the wedding details and put in any last opinions considering neither of you are planning it. You really didn't expect to find yourself face down on Jay's bed, where he ushered you the moment he saw you. Muttering something along the lines of "You're alone? Fucking finally." It's not like you entirely mind either, it's not like he didn't immediately make out with you all the way to his bedroom. It's not like you didn't make out with him right back, even if you were surprised. It's really just the fact that you were totally unprepared to have a cock that big shoved in you for the first time on a Monday afternoon. You've wondered for years what it was like to have sex, anyway, always fumbling around with your fingers and never quite feeling as good or as full as you do now. It's overwhelmingly hot, pleasurable, even. And the fact that Jay is handsome only makes this that much better. You'll be marrying him next week anyway, why does it matter if you're letting him do this right now? After next week, your father will no longer be controlling what you do. It'll be Jay, if he wants to. You can only imagine the amount of sex the two of you will be having after it's official, so...you enjoy it. Moaning, groaning, feeling that pit in your stomach intensify with each push of his cock inside of you, his breath on your shoulder, whispering filth to you between questions to get to know you. To anyone else, it would seem insane. But the fact of the matter is, you've never actually been together alone. Never had the opportunity to really get to know each other. "You want kids?" He had whispered right against your neck, pushing deeper into you and holding himself there. You nod. "How many?" He half-groans. You managed to moan out a "4", which had him moving faster, harder. "Yeah?" He hummed, kissing your prickled skin and well aware that you're going to have him wrapped around your fucking pinky. "You feel that?" And there it is, the feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you, thick ropes of cum shooting deep against your cervix, the promise of pregnancy coming along side the ring he's about to put on your finger. You moan out, surprised by how you can feel it spilling out of you with each sensitive thrust he offers to you, seemingly pushing his cum in and out of you while simultaneously snaking his hand under you to reach your clit. A whine falls from your lips at the sudden orgasm, so so sensitive, a feeling so intense and new because even when you played with yourself, never did you reach climax like this. You shake under him, clenching his spent length through your own orgasm until he gently pulls out and flips you over. He eyes you over, only now able to see you this closely because he finally got you alone without one of your parent's attached to your side. You really are totally his fucking type. And you're all his. "I think this is going to work out." He mumbles, inspecting you even more closely, ashamed that he didn't even get your top off before pressing you down on his bed. Embarrassed that he didn't have you facing him through your first time. He'll make it up to you next time.
"I'll take good care of you, and I'll be more gentle too." He continues, watching you try to regain your balance of breath. "I didn't know you were a virgin..."
You smile, eyes drowsy, suddenly feeling very sleepy...comfortable. Knowing that this will be the very bed you'll be sleeping in soon enough.
"It's okay." You whisper, clearing your throat and then repeating it in a more confident voice. "If I didn't like it, I would just tell my dad."
Jay's eyes widen, fear reaching his expression as he stares down at you, but you're quick to reassure him.
"I did like it, by the way."
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yanderedrabbles · 1 day ago
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The Sorcerer & The Witch
Once, in a village deep in the heart of the forest, a witch was born.
On that day, the people of the village rejoiced, for it had been many years since a baby had survived childbirth. They came from hill and glen to see you, to thank the forest and the fen for lifting their curse.
Every man from woodcutter to farmer promised to keep you safe. Every woman from fishwife to seamstress swore to do the same. They called you foxfire, after those glowing forest waifs that light the wanderer's path. You were their greatest hope, their greatest pride.
[If only their love was enough to stop the sorcerer from doing what he did to you.]
When you were a child scarcely taller than a man's knee, a merchant came to your village. Driven more by desperation than greed, he'd reached the end of his route  without selling any of his wares and could not bear to return home a failure. So he said his charms and his prayers and set out for your village.
He was greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a merchant had come. He sold all he had to trade, even the tin and lead trinkets that city folk would never glance at. You came up to him when he was drinking and he stared at you with horror, for all the townsfolk on his path warned him that your village was cursed with no children.
But his horror soon turned to delight. You were a bright child and polite and asked him many questions of his travels. The villagers looked at you proudly, to see you impress a man as widely travelled as he.
When he left and stopped at the next town over, he told them of the single child in the childless village. Word soon reached the king and he stroked his beard and summoned his youngest sorcerer.
"It is strange indeed for only one child to have survived thus far. Go and see why that is."
The youngest sorcerer sighed but obeyed. He arrived in your village on the back of a steaming warhorse, his cloak billowing a black cloud behind him. The villagers cringed away in fear, but you walked up to him and bowed and welcomed him.
The sorcerer had a fine eye for magic and he could see a little of it in you. He should have taken you back to the king and had you trained in the craft, but you stood no higher than his thigh and were the only gift these villagers had. He gave you a flower of heart-wood, told you to be kind to others and left.
You grew from a child to young girl. Everywhere you went flowers bloomed.
That spring, a musician came to your village. Driven more by desperation than greed, he'd reached the end of his route without earning either fortune or fame and could not bear to return home a failure. So he said his charms and his prayers and set out for your village.
He was greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a musician had come. He was paid well for all his songs, even the old love ballads city folk would never listen to. You came up to him when he was drinking, scarcely as tall as his chin. He stared at you with horror, for all the townsfolk on his path had warned him that your village was cursed to have no youth.
But his horror soon turned to delight. You were precocious and sweet and asked him many questions about his instruments. The villagers looked at you proudly, to see you impress a man as charming as he.
When he left and stopped at the next town over, he sung about the one girl in the youthless village. Word soon reached the king. He stroked his greying beard and summoned his second youngest sorcerer.
"It is strange indeed for only a single youth to live among so many elders. Go and see why that is."
The second youngest sorcerer sighed but obeyed. He arrived in your village in a brilliant carriage with royal flags snapping in the wind. His guards were dour faced soldiers and the villagers cringed away in fear.
As before, you walked up to him and bowed and welcomed him.
The second youngest sorcerer spent a long time thinking, for your magic had grown and he too had a duty to take you away. But you were not yet a woman and he did not want to steal you from your village before your time. He gave you a flower of fire-heart, told you to be a  be obedient to your parents and left.
When next the king heard of you, many years had passed.
People spoke of you near and far - said that animals and trees bowed their heads when you walked past, that flowers grew in your footsteps, that you could heal any sickness of soul or body.
The king stroked his beard - all of it now as white as snow - and summoned the oldest and most powerful of his sorcerers.
"It is strange indeed for a village girl to have such powers. Go and see why that is."
The strongest sorcerer was a man well versed in even the darkest, most arcane magic and had lived through three lifetimes already. He had the face and the strength of a young man, but eyes like chips of stone.
He didn't sigh as the other two did before him. He only smiled in that distant, icy way of his and said he would be glad to obey.
He arrived in your village in the dead of night without horse or guards, a wolf skin cloak wrapped around him. The villagers paid him no mind - you alone noticed him and bid him welcome.
The sorcerer caught his breath. For you were indeed beautiful, and the trees and the animals did indeed bow their heads to. But more than that, your magic had grown from a trickle to a torrent. As old and immortal as he was, he had met few who possessed as much raw power as you did.
The sorcerer grew wary, for even he could not match your strength. If ever you turned your anger on the kingdom, you could turn cities to ash and armies to stone with a wave of your hand. You offered him some water to drink and as he watched you, he contrived an awful plan.
The sorcerer was a handsome man and could be as chivalrous as any knight if he chose. He gently took your hand in his and begged you to meet him in the forest.
You were sheltered, naive and no man had ever looked at you as he did. You blushed and simpered but made no promises.
The next day, he brought you a heart-wood flower and kissed your hand when he handed it to you.
"Heart-wood for your kiss, my lady."
You were just a village girl and no man had ever called you lady as he did, no one except the sorcerers had ever given you so fine a gift. Still, you did not go to meet him.
The next day, he brought you a flower of fire-heart and kissed your cheek when he handed it to you.
"Fire-heart for the fire of your love, my darling."
Your heart leapt at his touch, at the warmth of his body beside you. In a tumble of thoughts and confusion, you wondered what it would feel like if he kissed other parts of you. Despite the love you were beginning to feel for him, you still did not go to meet him.
On the third day, he brought you a flower of mountain-heart made entirely of diamond and kissed your lips.
"Mountain-heart in exchange for yours, my love."
You were his then, heart and soul, and he knew it. Perhaps it is a testament to his cruelty that he could make you fall for him so easily and feel nothing in return.
That night you set forth to meet him.
The brambles caught at your cloak as you walked, the deer rushed headlong along your path to confuse your way, the foxfire flickered. The whole forest tried to warn you. You were blind and deaf to it all, your mind filled only with thoughts of your handsome suitor.
He met you in a clearing under the moonlight and when you opened your arms to embrace him, he snapped his fingers and bound you to the earth with magic.
You struggled in vain, too frightened and betrayed to think straight.
"You are too wild and dangerous to let live," the sorcerer said, his magic twisting tighter around your arms.
You thrashed and whimpered, moonlight on your skin. The sorcerer was immortal and thought himself beyond mortal cares, but he was still a man.
He watched your dress slipping off your shoulder as you struggled and something began to stir in him. The hunger all men feel when a woman is helpless before them.
He touched his hand to your thigh and shivered at the warmth. "You are such a rare creature," he mused. "Beautiful and dangerous all at once."
He looked at you as no man had ever looked at you before. Eyes full of a desire you couldn't name.
Sweet, naive girl. How were you to know not to trust men sweet smiles but wolf eyes? How were you to know how hot desire burns? It scorches away morals and scruples, burns away guilt.
The sorcerer had his way with you. He stilled your tongue with magic, so you couldn't scream when he pulled your skirts higher up your thighs. He bound your arms behind your back so you couldn't scratch at him when he forced his way between your legs.
You didn't know anything about magic. Didn't even realise you had any. How could you fight against a man with centuries of learning? Countless spells?
When he was done and had laced up his trousers, he looked at you through eyes wicked with guile. Greed whispered in his ear - greed for your power, greed for your flesh.
"I won't kill you, girl. It would be an awful waste of magic." He stroked your cheek and you jerked away from him, unable to stand any more of his touch.
His magic grew tighter around you and he looked at you with an expression as remote and cold as the moon.
"I will instead bind you to me. Make you my servant and my slave for all eternity, able to speak and do only as I command."
You thrashed in your bindings and the earth trembled with your panicking magic. But for all the strength in you, you could not match the skill of the sorcerer.
His enchantment dug through your skin and into your rib cage. You screamed, cursed him and his gods. You would have turned the whole kingdom to ash with your fear if his magic wasn't holding you.
He took your face in his hands and you turned your head to bite into his palm. You bit hard enough to draw blood but he was too deep in his conjuring to either notice or care.
That's what you remember most about that night - the metal smell of his magic and the metal taste of his blood.
His magic was in your heart, in the very core of you. You could feel it like a hand touching the most sacred thing you owned. He was taking what no one else in the world could even touch.
The king's sorcerer wrapped your heart in magic and carefully - for he was afraid of you, despite his strength and his years - linked it to his own. You sagged against your bindings, your strength leaking out of you. He pulled your face up to meet his eyes and all he saw looking back at him was a dull compliance.
"You will listen and obey."
"I will listen and obey," you echoed. Inside your mind, you raged against the chains he'd drawn. But the sorcerer knew his work and when he withdrew his magic vines, you followed him demurely.
In the morning, he announced to the villagers that he was taking you as an apprentice and they all rejoiced to see you climb so high in the world. You hugged them and kissed them goodbye. The sorcerer was adept at his puppeteering and not a one noticed the screaming soul inside you.
The sorcerer held you in thrall. For a decade and then two, you followed at his heels and lent him your magic. He felled armies with a wave of his hand, parted the sea with a breath. Made the humble king of your kingdom into an emperor.
He had you whenever and wherever he pleased - bent over his desk or sprawled in the silk of his bed. Begging him to be gentle and begging him to be rough. He made your body respond to him, made you pull him closer and whisper that you loved him.
Trapped inside a body that you couldn't control, you grew hateful. The sweet village girl was gone, burnt away by the heat of his lips and skin on yours. Fom your awful prison inside yourself, you promised vengeance.
You watched and you waited and you plotted. When the third decade of your imprisonment came, the king passed and the crown prince was named his successor. He was strong and brave, but had little trust in magic and no trust at all in the sorcerer.
The moment he was crowned, he summoned the sorcerer.
"As a show of trust between us, I would have you keep your witch consort here at court," he ordered.
The sorcerer wanted to quarrel with the prince but his years had taught him it was too troublesome to make enemies of the powerful. He agreed to leave you at court while he went about the kingdom on his work. Afterall, what's a single season to an immortal?
For three decades he held the spell on you. Your obedience and the love he made you show had lulled him into a false sense of security. He had forgotten the hate on your face when first he chained you.
He bowed his head in obedience to the new king and gave you your chance to escape.
The king trusted you as little as he trusted the sorcerer and commanded you to stay near his side. From dawn til dusk you followed him. You were beautiful, as unchanged as the day the sorcerer captured you. And despite the prince's wariness and despite his best efforts, he began to fall for you.
On a night when the stars were shining cold and cruel, when the moon was newly hatched and invisible to the eye, you let your hair fall loose around your shoulders and dropped your layers of skirts and petticoats. Until you wore nothing but a white shift that showed the silhouette of your body when you stood in front of the fireplace.
The king found you waiting for him in his room, the firelight reflected off your hair. To his credit, he tried to turn you away. Tried to be noble and honour your virtue.
But he was still a man.
You'd learnt a long and hard lesson about the restraint of men. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the beat of his heart. There were precious few things the sorcerer allowed you to say, but you managed to find some words not restricted by his curse.
"My lord, I'm cold. Will you not warm me?"
The king's eyes grew dark with desire and his noble ideas of virtue crumbled under your touch. You pulled his face toward you and bit at his neck until he did the same to you.
You spent the night with king, teasing him until his restraint broke and he left bruises on your thighs.
The sorcerer came back on the full moon.
He slipped your dress from your shoulders and saw the bite marks littered across your chest. His grip grew tighter and the shadows of the room lengthened.
"Who?" he growled in a voice terrible with anger, "Who has touched you? Who dared to take what's mine and mine alone?"
"The king," you answered, for you couldn't lie to him.
"For how long?" he asked, as hearth fire began to flicker an awful green. "How many weeks has he had you in his bed?"
"Since the new moon," you answered, for his magic forced you to speak.
The sorcerer stood for a moment as still as the dead. Then his rage exploded in a ball of green fire.
It ripped through the walls of the castle, burnt through mortar and brick, through armour and bone. Distantly, people began to scream. In a blink of magic, he moved you both to the throne room, where the king was holding counsel.
The sorcerer clenched his fist and fire ripped through the throne room. It melted the great metal throne and turned the king to smouldering ash in a second.
In his rage, the sorcerer's magic was wild and unstable. With a bite of your wrist and a tremendous pull of magic, you were able to loosen your heart from his curse.
If he were not blinded by jealousy and bloodlust, he would have noticed it immediately.
His magic roared until the great palace was was in ruins, marble melted and running like metal.
Perhaps, were you were still innocent to the cruelty of men, you might have felt guilty. Might have felt horror at the charred husks of the king and his men.
But your years of captivity hardened you and all you cared about was escape.
When it was done, the sorcerer took your face in his palms and kissed you, without a single care for the palace that smoldered around him.
"You are mine," the sorcerer purred, "No matter how much the prince wished it otherwise."
You kept your face as carefully blank as if you were still under his spell and stabbed him in the heart.
It gave you just enough time to wrap your magic around him and bind him to the earth. He roared, pulling and twisting to no use.
You felt his magic weakening and for the first time in three decades, you were able to speak with your own tongue.
"What am I to do with you, sorcerer? For three decades you've held me. For three decades I've been your slave. "
You flicked your wrist and the fire around you flickered to nothing. It was only him and you and the moon, as it had been so long ago.
"For each year that passed, I thought of a different revenge. Cut you into little pieces while you're still alive and feed you to the ravens. Drain all your magic and leave you a wandering madman, entirely reliant on the mercy of others. Burn you at the stake."
Even in chains of magic, the sorcerer was formidable. A tiger waiting for a single misstep to pounce. Even as your prisoner, he looked unafraid.
It made an icy cruelty well up in you.
"No, sorcerer," you said in a voice like tombs opening, "All that is far too good for you."
You reached forward and plucked at the magic that held you to his will. In the beginning, all you wanted was to cut that connection, have total freedom. But you'd had three decades to learn cruelty and now a better idea came to you.
Your magic hooked into his heart, into the very core of his being. You could feel it like a hand touching the most sacred thing he owned. You reversed the spell and took from him what no one else in the world could even touch.
When it was done, you held his face in your hands.
"You will listen and obey."
He was the strongest sorcerer in the kingdom, perhaps in the world. He was the man who tormented you and used you.
"I will listen and obey," the sorcerer echoed.
He was the monster of all your nightmares. And now he was your slave.
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On your travels, you heard of a village where babies never survived birth.
When you reached it, you were greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a traveller had come.
A child came up to you when you were drinking, a spright of a girl scarcely taller than your thigh. You looked at her with delight, for all the townsfolk on your path warned you that this village was cursed with no children.
"What are you?" she asked.
"A foxfire witch," you replied.
She mulled this over without fear.
"What do witches do?"
You smiled and conjured a heart-wood flower out of the air. She gasped and took it delicately, startled by it's beauty. More fine than anything in the village.
"I warn little girls about the dangers of the world."
You didn't say the rest out loud, but your thoughts floated on the wind and perhaps she understood the wisps of them.
I warn little girls about the cruelty and the lust of men. So that they are never caught as unguarded as I was.
Behind you, the sorcerer waited patiently with the horses. If his soul was screaming inside him, no one heard it.
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sobbingscripter · 2 days ago
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Tags: [mlw][mdni][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][loss of virginity][unprotected p in v][just the tip][oral f! receiving][fingering][aged up][nipple play][UNDERSTAND by keshi for the fluff (trust)][petnames][ra's you little matchmaker you]
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"I'm sorry, what?" Bruce's brows raise, nearly meeting his hairline as he stares at Jason, who only nods his head enthusiastically.
"Damian had a bride. Like.... They were married, had a ceremony and everything. It was actually really beautiful, I cried." Jason hums softly before extending his legs out in front of him, booted feet crossing at the ankles.
"And you want us to get this girl, why?" Tim questions, a brow raising.
"Damian's lonely." Dick states. "So... It would do him some good to be around someone he knows. Like... Properly knows."
"For his birthday." Barbara chimes in. "He's turning 19 and he's a virgin. And he's definitely not gay."
"The turtlenecks could've fooled me." Jason snickers softly, before glancing at Bruce's turtleneck, and raising a brow, almost suspiciously.
"We'll get the girl." Bruce hums.
—♱—
"Is this... a house?" Your voice is quiet, almost meek and timid as you look around at the architecture of Wayne Manor, before your eyes move towards the light switches. And you gasp.
"Lights?" You breathe out. "You have magic within your walls?"
They don't know how to react. They don't know if you're joking or if you're serially disadvantaged.
Until you let out a snort of laughter.
"Nah, I'm just messing with you." You snicker, your hands tucked into the pockets of the oversized hoodie you're wearing and you look around.
"You have a lovely home, Mr Wayne. It's lovely to see that there aren't a lot of staff." You smile. A polite, and genuine expression and Bruce damn near melts because shit, maybe Ra's picked good for Damian.
"That's the opposite of what Damian said." Bruce hums and you feel your heart nearly stop in your chest as you repeat the name.
"Damian?"
"Beloved?"
Damian's voice is a quiet murmur, the thick, wooden spined book tumbling from his limp hand as he stares at you, emerald pools wide and pink lips parted to let out the shakiest of breaths.
It feels like time stands still.
You hadn't seen him in so long. The last you can remember is waking up to the sound of screams and clashing blades, blood seeping into the Egyptian rugs that covered the floorboards and you'd found assassins slain.
Body after body after body.
He looks older. Boyish features remain but tinged with the sharpness of maturity, broad shoulders and muscles in place of lean, slender limbs. But that couldn't be anyone else.
The scent of oud and cinnamon musk clings to the air as he takes tentative steps towards you, shaky hands cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him.
You have the same mischievous eyes, your iris flecked with that metallic hue that always seemed to suit your eyes, your face still fits so perfectly in his hands. You're taller than you were, you weigh a bit more, your hips are fuller. Grabbable. There's a sensual dip in your waist that he'll be sure to explore later.
And Damian's forehead rests against yours, feeling the contact of your skin and he lets out a shuddering breath.
"I missed you." You whisper quietly, your voice filling the silent air of the foyer and Damian nods his head.
"As have I." He murmurs quietly. "More than you could imagine."
—♱—
You sit anxiously on the edge of Damian's bed and you watch as he steps out of the ensuite bathroom, steam rising from his tanned skin and rivulets of hot water dripping between the cords of his muscles. His hair is damp, a towel low on his waist before he moves towards you, standing between your thighs and he looks down at you, a hand lifting to cup your cheek.
Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, tilting your head ever so slightly, capturing his thumb between your full lips. And you watch the way that slow blush creeps up his features.
"Still so easy to fluster." You tease him softly and you watch as his eyes narrow.
"Still such a raging asshole." He retorts, before leaning forward, pressing the softest kiss against your forehead.
You lean back against the headboard, Damian's head resting on your lower belly, fingers idly tracing patterns on your hips, exposed by where the T-shirt had ridden up.
"Your head is still fat." You murmur, your voice a soft sound against the sound of Gotham's pouring rain, streets and sidewalks soaked with rain and slippery to the touch.
Bruce had given Damian the night off, and it would be a lie to say Damian doesn't intend to make the most of the night.
Whether it be losing his virginity or falling asleep in your arms like when times were... Ridiculously simpler. When his focus was taking lives and not protecting them.
"I can see the hair on your forearms." Damian mocks, and he watches as you tuck your hands behind your back, a snort of boyish laughter tumbling from his lips. He reaches behind your back, pulling your arms forward before pressing the sweetest kisses to your palms.
"I'm just kidding." He reassures quietly. "I like that you're a Sasqua—" Damian's words are cut off when you push his head back into your stomach, and you can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's going to argue.
So you card your fingers through those raven strands, scratching his scalp lightly and you watch the way the muscles in his back relaxes, and a minty sigh leaves his lips.
"You're lucky I love you." Damian mumbles, his voice muffled by the slight pudge of your belly and your fingers halt just a bit in his hair.
"Still ?" You question, almost incredulously and Damian lifts his head, staring up at you from beneath furrowed brows.
"The years apart doesn't diminish the fact that you're my wife." Damian murmurs. "My grandfather may have been a dick but he made a good choice to make my best friend my bride."
Your heart swells and thuds. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit misty and almost immediately, your free hand reaches for the bedside lamp, switching off the light and shrouding the bedroom in shadows and silvery moonlight.
"Are you crying?" Damian asks, a tinge of humour in his voice as he sits up, your thighs tossed over his and his hands move to your cheeks.
"...no."
You sniffle, tears dropping down your flushed cheeks in fat droplets, rolling until Damian's thumbs brush them away. His hands are warm against your cheeks, palms just a bit rougher than they were and you feel the way his lips press sweet kisses to your eyelids.
"You complete me." Damian whispers. "Emotionally, not physically." He adds, almost like it needs clarification and you let out a teary snicker.
"Wow, thank you so much for clarifying that." You answer sarcastically, before your hands move to cradle his face, just like you used after a particularly hard day of training and you watch the way the moonlight illuminates his features, and you watch his eyes soften at the action.
Eyes closing to commit the sensation to memory once again and he lets out an almost unsteady breath.
Leaning forward to rest his cheek against your chest, before feeling the familiar feel of a ring that you've chosen to keep on a chain instead.
"It's felt rather... Peculiar without it." Damian murmurs under his breath, reaching for one of the drawers of his bedside table, and tugging it open, and he rifles through the bits and bobs until he finds the tiny satin satchel he was looking for.
And he opens it up, turning the light on but on a dimmer setting, before he pulls the ring out of the baggie.
A tungsten carbide wedding band, two thin gold strips on it, divided by flakes of gold and emerald, encapsulated.
Reaching for the clasp behind your neck, you slide the necklace off and remove the ring. Your wedding ring.
An ornate gold band, the centre stone being an upside down, pear-shaped emerald, accented by two diamonds on either side.
The rings had been too big for either of your fingers, so you'd simply held onto them. But now, you're both old enough.
Old enough to know that the arrangement could be nullified, and old enough to know that neither wanted that.
Damian slides your ring onto your left hand, the act so intimate as he stares up at our face, scanning for any hints of hesitance but he only sees adoration. A hopeful expression of love.
And you mimic his actions.
And there isn't a lick of doubt in his expression, not even a flicker of hesitance, just pure... Relief. Contentment. Adoration.
Damian interlocks your hands with his, enjoying the warmth of the metal against his fingers and he presses his lips against yours in a sweet, adoring kiss that lingers for far longer than one of the friendly pecks you'd give back then.
He savours the feeling of you near, his bare chest pressed against yours, only kept apart by the soft, cotton fabric between you two and he pulls back.
Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, kiss-reddened lips parted to let out sweet symphonies of quiet breaths.
And you see his pupils dilate even more in the dim light, as his hands disentangle from yours, moving to rest on the swell of your hips.
You pretend that you don't notice his shaking hands as he reaches for the edge of the T-shirt you've snatched from his closet after your shower, and you pretend that you don't notice the way those same shaky hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble while his knee slots between your thighs, kisses slowly pressed against the soft skin of your neck.
Your hands move to rest on his biceps, manicured nails tracing over the faintest of scars in his perfect flesh and you feel him gently guide you to rest back against the thick, Egyptian covers, his hands anxiously roaming along your sides.
"Does this feel good?" Damian questions softly, his lips sucking a mark into the sensitive skin right over your pulse and you swallow, nodding your head.
You wet your lips when he lifts his head, looking down at you and his muscular thigh presses against your core, feeling the way your pussy throbs against the stretchy fabric of his boxers that you'd stolen.
Damian's sweet when he's guiding your legs to rest over his broad, muscular shoulders.
Pressing sweet kisses along the flesh of your inner thighs, hands gently kneading the fat of your hips with so much reverence that it makes your toes curl.
Especially when his hands move to aid him, thumbs pressing against the puffy, plump flesh of your pussy and parting the lips, watching the way your slick and slippery folds twitch and Damian takes a deep breath.
"How much teeth do you suppose I use?" Damian questions softly, and the amount of stress that runs through your body is insane.
"None at a—or..... Oh..."
Your lips form the cutest little 'o' shape when Damian drags his tongue through your folds, juniper gaze locked on your expression that he finds as a mixture of surprised and aroused.
Your hands move to his hair, fingers carding through them affectionately. And Damian takes that as a sign that he should keep doing that. Long strokes of his tongue have your fingers clutching at his hair, brows knitting into a twitchy frown, your hips nearly bucking.
And you need to stifle a loud and pitchy gasp when he circles what he assumes to be your clit.
"Is that it?" Damian asks softly, before you nod your head, swallowing down every sound that possibly threatens to spill in the quietness of the manor.
And Damian lifts his head, locating the exact spot he just licked and committing it to memory.
"But.... Not all girls' are like... On the exact same spot.." You breathe out quietly, still trying to teach him while he's slowly flicking his tongue along your needy clit.
"I only need to know where yours is." Damian hums, the low vibration causing the pleasure in your belly to build like an accumulating wildfire. And your lashes flutter, a whine slipping past your lips as Damian sucks at your clit, teasing the little button before he lifts his head.
His chin is wet with your slick, and he spits at your hole, watching the way your pussy pulses the tiniest bit before he goes back to lapping at your clit. And one of his muscular fingers slowly push past the ring of muscle, and his brows furrow at the way you twitch around his fingers.
And your toes curl just as his finger crooks.
"Shit, shit, shit..." You whimper, your chest heaving as you feel your orgasm building and Damian adds a second finger, slowly fucking you with his digits, eyes watching the way your body shivers and shudders.
And you grab a pillow, muffling your moan as you cum around his fingers, and Damian swallows, licking up any of the mess and keeping your hips anchored with one of his forearms, resting across your pelvis.
Damian slurps, the sound is lewd and it makes your hips buck harder.
He's gentle. Licking at your clit, teasing the bud until it peeks out from beneath the hood, oversensitive and slippery against his tongue, before he lifts his head.
His chin is shiny in the moonlight that pours in and the low light of the lamp beside the bed. He peels off the towel around his waist, tossing it to the carpet into a fuzzy puddle before he watches your bleary gaze lower.
He's... Thick. Perfect in literally every way. A flushed tip, leaking beads of precum down his long shaft, a pretty and prominent vein on the underside and Damian gives himself a few shy strokes.
Not to excite himself, obviously. Just so the sound fills the silence, and he lets out a shaky breath, before he brushes his tip along your sloppy folds.
The feeling is... Surreal.
Your toes feel like when you put your lips against a TV, a muffled gasp slipping from your lips everytime his slit catches against your clit and Damian shifts, resting your legs against his thighs.
"Are you ready?" Damian asks quietly, his free hand fiddling, thumbing your clit sweetly and you nod your head.
"I'm ready." Your voice is a soft murmur. "Are you?"
And he nods his head, before notching himself at your entrance.
"Tell me if hurts." Damian instructs, before he slowly pushes into you. It's... Uncomfortable. The slightest pinch of pain, but not unbearable and your hands fist at the sheets, before Damian stops abruptly.
Taking your hands and placing the on his tightly toned lower belly, the faintest and thinnest sliver of dark hair between your palms.
"This is so you can.... Control the depth." Damian mutters.
Control.
Damian's never given that to anyone. Especially not over his own body.
And slowly, Damian pushes until his whole tip is nestled snugly inside you.
"H—...How is it?" You mutter shyly, your gaze locked on where the two of you meet, and he swallows.
"Tight... Warm... It's so wet..." Damian shudders, a cool sweat prickling across his skin. "You're so perfect."
"Would you rate it 5 stars?" You question teasingly and he lets out a laugh. A cute snort of laughter and he leans forward, his hands moving to rest on the mahogany headboard, fingers absentmindedly tracing the decadent carvings in the wood.
"4.5." Damian answers. "Because you asked me to rate it."
You watch his stomach muscles flex, his abs rippling beneath his tawny skin before the watch on his wrist beeps. And he lets out a quiet groan, looking down at you with those sweet, adoring eyes.
"I'm sorry— I—" "You don't need to explain." You reassure quietly, kissing Damian sweetly when he leans close enough and he pulls out of you.
"I'll be back before you know it, beloved."
—♱—
"Why do you smell like pussy?" Jason questions over the intercom, his voice staticky over the connection.
"How dare you?" Damian scowls, bringing his hood over his head, obscuring his face in the shadow of the fabric.
"I smell like my wife's pussy. Get it right."
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diaryofawhoretbh · 2 days ago
Text
mrs. marine's trouble. | kang dae-ho (player 388)
REQUESTED by: @ang3licbabydolly = "plssss dae-ho x f!reader smut !! 😇"
wc: 2.6k
warnings: SMUTTTT.
i really don't know what to say. this is the first ever smut i've written, i hope i did it justice. longer than what i expected it to be.
NOT proof-read!!!
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the distant hum of strained whispers and restless shuffling filled the dorm, a constant reminder of the stakes you were all under. amid the sea of desperation, your eyes found kang dae-ho—player 388.
he sat with his back against a bunk post, his broad shoulders relaxed yet alert, like he was still on duty. his jawline was sharp, his expression unreadable, and his body language exuded confidence—until your gaze lingered too long.
he noticed. his composure faltered for the briefest moment, his dark eyes flicking to yours before darting away, a faint flush creeping up his neck.
you stood, curiosity and something deeper urging you toward him. “dae-ho,” you said as you stopped in front of him.
he glanced up, his lips quirking into a polite smile. “you shouldn’t sneak up on a marine,” he teased, his voice low and smooth.
“wasn’t sneaking,” you replied, matching his tone as you crouched to his level. “you just weren’t paying attention.”
his chuckle was soft, a little strained. “maybe you’re too distracting,” he said, surprising both himself and you.
you raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “is that so?”
he cleared his throat, visibly pulling himself back into his composed shell. “what do you need?”
“maybe i just wanted to sit here with you,” you said, tilting your head. “you mind?”
his hesitation was subtle but there. “suit yourself,” he murmured, scooting slightly to give you space beside him.
you settled in, the heat of his body radiating close. “you always so serious?” you teased gently, glancing at his sharp profile.
“it’s the marine in me,” he said with a faint smile. “serious is second nature.”
“and the blushing?” you asked, leaning in just a little.
his eyes snapped to yours, his cheeks darkening. “i don’t blush,” he said, a bit too quickly.
you grinned. “sure, you don’t.”
he huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head, and you could see his armor slipping. this wasn’t the marine talking now—this was just dae-ho, a man trying to keep himself together in impossible circumstances.
“you’re trouble, you know that?” he said, glancing sideways at you.
“i’ve been told,” you said, letting your shoulder bump his lightly.
he stiffened at the contact but didn’t pull away. emboldened, you let your hand rest on his thigh, a casual yet deliberate move.
his breath hitched. “you’re���”
“trouble,” you finished for him, leaning in just enough that your lips brushed his ear as you spoke.
his jaw tightened, and his hand reflexively covered yours, trapping it against his thigh. his grip was firm, warm, and the callouses on his palm sent a shiver through you.
“you think this is a good idea?” he asked, his voice lower now, tinged with a nervous edge.
“i think,” you said, turning your face so your lips hovered near his, “that you want this as much as i do.”
his dark eyes locked with yours, searching your face as though testing your resolve. his confidence as a marine battled with his shyness in this unfamiliar kind of vulnerability.
then, he closed the distance.
the kiss was slow at first, tentative, his lips warm and firm against yours. but when you sighed into it, his hesitation melted. his free hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer with a controlled strength that made your pulse race.
“you’re gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured against your lips, though his grip on you only tightened.
“you’re already in trouble,” you whispered back, threading your fingers through his short, dark hair.
he chuckled, a soft, breathy sound that sent warmth pooling in your pussy. his shyness lingered in the way he paused between kisses, as though still wrapping his head around the situation, but his touches were confident, deliberate.
his hand starts trailing from your waist to my ass, squeezing it as you let out a soft moan. as much as you are enjoying this, you needed more privacy. your voyuerism kink was begging you to let him fuck you right there and then, but something held you back.
"w-we should go to the bathroom." you whisper to him. without another word, he gets up, dragging you by the hand to the door where a guard stood.
"we need to use the bathroom." dae-ho told the guard.
"it's late, get back to your bunks. use it in the morning." the guard informed us.
"i swear to God, if you don't let us use the bathrooms right now! i'm a woman for fucks sake, how fucking dare you! my rights as a woman are being absolutely ignored, it's a medical emergen-"
the guard hastily opened the door towards the bathroom, not saying another word. "...thank you... yea thank you, as you should, gosh!" you finished, as you quickly got in front of dae-ho and dragged him into the women's bathroom.
as soon as we got inside, you turned around and smashed your lips onto him. he quickly pushed you into an empty stall and closed the door behind you. he pinned you against the wall and began to kiss you back just as eagerly as you were. his hands started to roam over your body as his kisses started to move to your neck.
as he kissed your neck, he started to bite and nibble at your skin, as hands wandered all over your body, wanting to touch every part of you. he grabbed your ass and gave it a hard squeeze as he pressed himself up against you. you could feel him pressing against you and you let out a whine, while you could hear him let out a stifled moan into your neck. his hands moved to your waist, wanting to tug at your shirt and slide his hands under to touch your skin and those tits that he has been day-dreaming about.
his hands roamed everywhere, from your back to your ass, to your stomach, caressing every inch of you. he started to tug at the bottom of your shirt, wanting it off. you helped him, slipping off your unzipped jacket and shirt, and tossing it aside. he started to kiss his way down your body, kissing and biting your skin as he went.
as dae-ho's lips trailed down your body, his calloused hands explored every curve with a mic of reverence and hunger. he paused at your bra, fingers hesitating at the clasp. "may i?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire.
you nodded, breath catching as he deftly unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the ground. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your bare breasts, nipples hardening under his intense gaze. "fuck," he breathed, "you're so gorgeous."
without warning, he dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly as his hand kneaded your other breast. you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.
his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. he paused, looking up at you with a question in his eyes. "is this okay?"
"fuck, yes," you gasped, hips bucking slightly against his hand. He smirked, a flash of confidence breaking through his usual stoic but timid demeanor.
dae-ho's fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing along your lower abdomen. his touch was electric, sending shivers through your body as he slowly, torturously, inched lower. "fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his fingers finally reaching your slick folds. he ran a finger along your slit, gathering your arousal before circling your clit. you gasped, hips jerking at the sensation.
dae-ho's mouth returned to your breast, tongue laving over your nipple as his fingers worked between your legs. he slipped one finger inside you, then another, curling them to hit that spot that made you see stars. "ah, fuck, d-dae-ho," you moaned, clutching at his shoulders. "please, i need more."
he lifted his head, dark eyes meeting yours. "tell me what you want," he said, voice low and husky. "i want to hear you say it, princess"
you swallowed hard, arousal and anticipation making you bold. "i want your cock," you breathed. "i want you to fuck me until i can't remember my own name."
a groan rumbled in his chest. "fuck, you can't just say things like that," his dick was throbbing at this point. "you don't care that guard is outside the door, you want this, don't you? you're such a little slut for me. want me to fuck your brains out? i'll give you what you want."
without warning, he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold tile wall. his hands roamed your body, caressing your curves before settling on your hips. you could feel the heat of his body against your back, his breath hot on your neck. "you want my cock?" he growled, grinding his erection against your ass, "then you're gonna get it, baby."
his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. the cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver. dae-ho's hand slid between your legs, fingers teasing your slick folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned, slipping two fingers inside you. he pumped them slowly, curling them to hit that spot that made your knees weak. "you like that, don't you? like feeling my fingers inside your tight little pussy?"
you moaned in response, pushing back against his hand. "please, dae-ho," you whimpered. "i need more." he chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "patience, baby. i'm gonna make you feel so good."
dae-ho's fingers continued their torturous rhythm, pumping into you at a steady pace. his thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub, adding another layer of sensation, making you moan and whine so loud. "fuck, you're so responsive," he breathed, nibbling at your earlobe. "i love hearing the sounds you make."
he scissored his fingers, stretching you as he prepared you for his cock. you could feel it, hard and hot against your ass, twitching with each noise you made. "you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he groaned, fingers twisting inside you. "to have you, all to myself. to make you mine."
the thought of belonging to dae-ho, of being claimed by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. you rocked back against his hand, seeking more friction. "please," you whimpered, "i need you. stop teasing me."
dae-ho needed no further encouragement. he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss, but quickly turned you back around and replaced his fingers with the blunt head of his cock. he rubbed it up and down your slit, coating it in your arousal before positioning it at your entrance. "ready, baby?" he asked, voice tight with restraint. at your nod, he pushed inside, filling you in one smooth thrust.
you cried out at the sensation, your back arching off the wall. he felt so big, stretching you deliciously as he buried himself to the hilt. "fuck, you're tight,"he groaned, giving you a moment to adjust. you clenched around him instinctively, earning a low curse. "fuckk, i'm gonna make you feel so good. gonna fuck this sweet little pussy till you forget everything but my name. i want you screaming my name with that pretty voice you have"
dae-ho set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours as he pounded into your tight heat. you were lost in the pleasure, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. "fuck, dae-ho," you moaned, clenching around him."you feel so good."
he groaned, the sound low and guttural. "i need you closer," he grunted, slowing his thrusts. "wrap your legs around me, baby. wanna feel all of you." he pulled out, turning you around to face him. his eyes were dark with lust, pupils blown wide. "jump," he ordered, lifting you easily. you obligied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you up effortlessly against the wall.
and then he was moving again, thrusting up into you with abandon.
the change in position allowed dae-ho to go deeper, hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips. "ahh fuck, yes!" you cried, fingers digging into his shoulders.
he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving between your lips as he continued to pound into you. you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect sync. the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. you could feel your climax approaching, your walls starting to flutter around his cock. "fuck, i'm close," you whimpered against his mouth.
"that's it, baby," dae-ho encouraged, his voice strained. "let go. wanna feel you cum on my cock." dae-ho's words sent you over the edge. your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of ecstasy coursing through your body. you cried out his name, clinging to him as you trembled and convulsed around his still-thrusting cock. "fuck yes, just like that," he grunted, burying his face in your neck as he chased his own release.
he thrust erratically, losing his rhythm as he neared the brink. with a final, powerful snap of his hips, he came hard, spilling deep inside you with a hoarse shout. you could feel each pulse of his cock, the sensation sending after-shocks through your sensitive body.
he held you close, still buried inside you, as you both struggled to catch your breath. kisses were peppered along your jawline, your neck, your shoulder... gentle, almost reverent, in the aftermath of your passion.
eventually, he lifted his head, gazing at you with a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. his softening cock slipped out of you, and he slowly lowered your shaky legs to the ground, keeping a firm grip on your waist to steady you.
"are you alright?" he asked, smoothing your damp hair back from your face. "did i hurt you?"
you shook your head, unable to suppress a blissful smile. "no," you murmured. "that was...incredible."
he huffed a soft laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. "you're incredible," he corrected, voice rough with emotion. "i've never felt anything like that before. "he kissed you then, slow and deep, putting all his feelings into the embrace. when he finally pulled away, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the tender look that graced the ex-marine's features.
"what happens now?"
you smiled softly, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "now?"you murmured. "now we get cleaned up, and go back to the bunks before someone misses us and comes looking."
dae-ho chuckled, nodding in agreement. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you all night, you're right." he pressed one more lingering kiss to your lips before reaching for your discarded clothes, handing them to you one by one. once you were both dressed, he tugged you close, resting his chin on top of your head.
"wanna sleep with me tonight?"
dae-ho studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "okay," he agreed softly. "i'd like that."
hand in hand, you snuck back to the dorm, slipping quietly into dae-ho's bunk just as the others were settling down for the night. you huddled together under the thin blanket, your bodies close but your touches chaste. this night had been intense, but for now, all you wanted was to be near him.
"good night, mr. marine."
"good night, mrs. marine's trouble."
as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn't help but smile. you weren't sure what tomorrow would bring, or where this new development would take you. but for now, you were happy. happy, and safe, and exactly where you were meant to be.
but how quickly could this all change?
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covenofagatha · 2 days ago
Note
Any chance you'd write Agatha x reader fic where Agatha is a teacher/professor but reader looks up to her & also has a crush & Agatha notices it. Maybe some slight manipulation, mommy issues etc etc 😂
I'm so sorry this took so long to write 😅 this one's from November and I apologize to everyone else who submitted requests months ago, I promise I am working on them and I will get to them sooner or later
Shoutout to the two teachers who I would do anything for and may have been used as some inspiration for this one (also I have no clue how this one got so long and I really hope it's good)
The power she holds
You're Agatha's TA for her History of Witchcraft class and you're more than happy to help with whatever she needs
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: manipulative Agatha, mommy issues, massive praise kink, fingering, slight mommy kink, oral (barely)
Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna
“Good morning,” you say with a knock on the open door to Professor Harkness’s office. She glances up from her seat at the desk and gives you the hint of a polite smile, beckoning you in with a hand. 
You plop down at the desk in the back of the room, the one closest to hers, and your backpack hits the ground with a thud. 
“You’re here early,” she muses, typing something on her computer without looking at you. 
But your cheeks still grow hot. She hasn’t said anything about your punctuality so far, even though you always try to get to her class at least ten minutes before it starts. Not because you want to impress her or get her to notice you or anything. You’re just being a good Teacher’s Assistant. 
Agatha Harkness was your teacher last semester in History of Witchcraft, and when she sent out applications for TA’s for the spring, you had jumped at the chance. You had gotten one of the highest grades in her class and often attended her office hours, so you had gotten pretty close to her, as far as teacher-student relationships go. 
You would never tell her this, but you strived for her approval. You didn’t try half as hard in your other classes, partly because they were easy, but there was also something about getting validation from her that made it all worth it. 
Your relationship with your mother is tense, with you never feeling like you were good enough for her, so you know where it comes from. It’s happened before, with older female teachers, where you would neglect everything else just for a chance for them to tell you that they were proud of you. 
But it’s a little different with Agatha, because of how attractive she is. She’s also incredibly smart, and when she looks at you, it’s like she really sees you, and that makes you warm inside. 
You know that she likes you, at least more than the average student, but you were still surprised when she had picked you to be her TA.  
It’s only a week into the semester and she hasn’t had you do anything yet. Her class is held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and both Monday and Wednesday this week, you’ve just been sitting next to her desk while she lectures. 
You’re thankful that she’s not bogging you down with work, you already have enough of it in your other classes, but you wish she’d give you something to do so you could feel like you’re being useful. Except you know there isn’t really anything she needs help with yet, with it being the start of a new class and the students haven’t had any real assignments for you to help with. Seems like you’ll just have to wait.
She mutters something to herself while moving to flip through papers on her desk and you frown. “Is there anything you need help with?” You ask and she turns to face you finally, but in the process, knocks over her mug of coffee. It spills all over the floor and she jumps up to avoid getting wet. 
“Fuck,” she curses under her breath just as the door opens and students start to come in. She looks at the mess on the floor and then up at you, and you spring into motion. 
You practically run down the hallway to the bathroom, pump the lever on the paper towel holder about ten times, and rip the bundle off, ignoring the confused looks from the other girls washing their hands. You sprint back and drop to your knees to soak up the coffee. 
“Who knew I could get my assistant to do other things than just help me grade papers?” Agatha asks rhetorically, voice light and teasing, but you blush. 
After you clean the floor and stand back up, you shake your hair out of your face and nod to her now-empty mug. “Do you want me to get you some more coffee?” 
Agatha’s eyes light up and she holds out the cup for you to take. You ignore the electricity that flares up under your skin when your fingers brush against hers. “Black with two sugars,” she says and you nod. 
She smirks before straightening up and walking to the front of the classroom to begin her lecture while you throw the wet paper towels away in the trash and go down to the student union to the coffee machine. 
You tap your foot impatiently while the maker whirrs to life and starts to spit coffee into the mug. Your nose wrinkles; you’ve never been a big coffee drinker, and even the smell gets to you sometimes. 
Finally, the cup is full and you add in two sugars, stirring delicately, and then carefully walking back to Agatha’s classroom. She’s talking about the Valais Witch Trials in Switzerland, the first systematic European Witch Hunt. You make sure the door closes quietly behind you before walking over to place it on the lectern where she’s standing. 
She pauses to watch you before leaning in close and whispering, “Thanks, hon. Appreciate it,” into your ear and you can feel your heart start to pound. Can she see how flustered you get? It’s just a simple thing, barely any praise at all, and yet – you suddenly have lost the ability to think.
“Of course,” you stammer out quickly and then rush to the back of the classroom, back to your desk, where you can breathe without the heat of her body radiating against yours. 
What is wrong with you? Agatha was just being polite, nothing more than that. You’ve seriously got to get your mommy issues under control. 
You pull out your laptop and try to work on stuff for other classes, but you keep getting drawn into Agatha’s lecture. It’s fascinating, the way she talks about historical events, the way she waves her hands around in the air. 
It’s something you didn’t notice last semester while you were in her class, definitely too busy scrambling to write everything that she said down, but now you can appreciate how much she talks with her hands. Her fingers wave around, curling and flexing, adding extra emphasis to what she’s saying, and for some reason, you can’t look away. 
You’re so entranced by her that you’ve completely zoned out, not even comprehending a word of what she’s saying. And then, for some reason, your eyes flick up to meet hers, and you find – much to your surprise – that she’s already looking at you. 
She winks so fast you think you might’ve imagined it. But what you’re not imagining is the rush of heat that floods through your body. You shift in your seat. It’s possible that your appreciation for the professor has grown into more of a crush. 
The class period ends sooner than you think it should, but you haven’t noticed how much time has passed because of how intently you’ve been watching Agatha. You start to slowly pack up your things so that you won’t have to leave before she comes back to her desk. 
And sure enough, you’re just zipping up your backpack when she drops into her chair and heaves a big sigh. 
“You okay?” You ask, repressing a giggle at her theatrics. 
She spins to face you. “Half of those kids are about to turn in god-awful rough drafts for us to look at next week. We’re going to have our work cut out for us, sweetheart.” The pet name turns you to putty and you have to make a conscious effort to regain your thoughts. 
“Well, I’m happy to help in any way you need,” you say before you can think of the innuendo that might be implied, and then inwardly curse. Will she think you’re offering more than what’s professional? 
Agatha just smiles pleasantly and you relax. Of course she wouldn’t. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good weekend, honey. I’ll see you on Monday.” 
You nod in agreement, a bit sad that she’s dismissing you so quickly, but you don’t want to overstay so you leave and go back to your dorm. 
Your thoughts hardly stray from her Saturday and Sunday. 
When the week starts back up again, you’re ten minutes early to her class. She hums a greeting when you open the door but doesn’t look up after, even when you sit next to her. 
“Good weekend?” You ask, trying to make small talk. 
She shrugs. “Just lesson-planning. You?” 
“Oh, yeah, it was all right. Went to the gym, did some homework. Pretty chill.” Agatha does look up at the mention of the gym and runs her eyes over your body, raising an eyebrow in approval. You feel something in your stomach, not entirely unpleasant. 
But she doesn’t say anything else, just turns back to her work and raises her cup to her lips and frowns. She sets down the mug at the edge of the desk closest to you – an invitation. “Be a dear and get me some more coffee?” 
It’s not exactly a question, but there’s no way you’d say no anyway. You jump out of your chair and grab the mug, hurrying to the student union so maybe you can get the drink back to her before class starts. 
“Two sugars?” Agatha asks when you put it down in front of her. She’s still at her desk, only a minute before she has to get up and teach, almost like she was waiting for you. 
“Of course,” you answer and she takes a long sip despite the steam coming off the top. 
She exhales and stands up. “Thanks, hon. You’re the best assistant I could’ve asked for.” And you know she’s just saying that to be nice, an over-exaggeration of course, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. 
On Wednesday, you borrow your roommate’s mug without asking and fill it up with black coffee and two sugars before even getting to Agatha’s class. 
When you place the mug on her desk, her eyes flit up to yours in surprise. “Look at you, sweetheart, bringing me coffee. How thoughtful,” she says, something unrecognizable on her face, and she raises it to her lips to take a drink. When she puts it down, she nods to the mug that’s already sitting there – her mug – which, much to your chagrin, is full. “Why don’t you take that?” 
“Oh, Professor, I couldn’t. I don’t really like coffee anyway,” you say hastily, but she shakes her head, picks it up, and holds it out to you. 
She urges you to take it with a nod. “Try it.” There’s something between the two of you, a thick tension that grows, when you reach out and take it. She watches you slowly lift it up to your mouth and you part your lips around the rim, feeling the hot coffee flood your tastebuds. 
Agatha never breaks eye contact, even when you wince at the bitter taste. You think you’d need at least ten more sugar packets before you’d be able to stomach it. But you swallow it, and her pleased look almost makes up for it. 
“Good girl,” she says in a low voice, and your breath hitches, your mind instantly short-circuiting for a second. She sees it too, but instead of looking disgusted or creeped out by how you react, she looks intrigued, delighted even. 
You open your mouth with absolutely no plan or knowledge of what you’re about to say, but thankfully the door opens and students strew in, taking their seats. Agatha gives you a wink, for sure a wink this time, and stands up, taking the coffee you brought her up to the front of the room with her. 
This time, you force yourself to work on homework for your other classes and don’t allow yourself to get distracted by Agatha or her hands or the way she talks or walks or breathes in your direction –
Agatha says your name and you jump in your chair, almost knocking your laptop off the desk. 
“Yes?” You squeak, completely embarrassed, especially with the thirty-plus undergraduates looking at you. 
Her smirk is gleeful, like she knows what you were thinking about. “I was just telling the class that if they have any questions about the material, that my brilliant TA is more than happy to help them. After all, you did get one of the highest grades in my class, possibly ever. I have no doubt that she can give you exactly what you need.” You’re not sure you could blush any harder, and you hate how you can feel yourself getting wet. 
Is having a praise kink a little too on the nose for a burnt-out gifted child? There’s something about it coming from Agatha that just makes it affect you even more.
“Um, yeah, just send me an email or talk to me after class. I’ll also read your rough drafts for the papers if you want some feedback on them, but they have to be turned in seventy-two hours before the due date,” you add, trying to keep your voice level. You can’t even be sure that she hasn’t already said that information; you haven’t been listening at all. But she nods in approval and you stare at nothing on your computer screen for the rest of the class, willing your brain to work but it just won’t. 
When the period ends, she walks back slowly to where you are and drums her fingers on your desk. You watch with bated breath as she sits in her chair facing you, and her eyes scrutinize you while you try not to squirm. “Thanks for bringing me coffee, honey. I really appreciate it,” Agatha says.  
And so it becomes the routine: you bring her coffee before every class period in a mug that you take from your dorm because you don’t have any, and she praises you each time. You get better at hiding how much it turns you on, which you swear makes her try even harder to get to you. 
She practically purrs one time about how thankful she is that she has an assistant as good as you. Sometimes, it’s all you can do to barely resist going to the bathroom during her class and shoving a hand into your pants because of how worked up she gets you. 
Masturbating after each class also becomes part of your routine. 
But as the semester progresses, so does your workload, both for your classes and hers. Her students flood your inbox with questions asking for clarification on assignments or about the material, and you spend hours on the weekends pouring over essays and giving feedback. Some of them aren’t terrible, while others have you wondering how they even got into college. 
You spend more time after the class talking to Agatha about her pupils, how you watch some of them shop on Amazon the whole time while she teases you about the boys and girls that blatantly check you out inside of taking notes. 
“I’m not really interested in boys,” you say off-handedly one day. 
Agatha raises an eyebrow and leans in. “Oh, really?” But something in her tone makes it sound like she already knew that. 
You nod slowly, wondering if she’s going to drag any more details about it out of you. You wonder if she’ll ask about your type, in which case, would you admit that your type is brunettes old enough to be your mother? 
It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together then, especially for someone as smart as Agatha. 
Thankfully she doesn’t ask, and you don’t volunteer that information. But now you’re curious – what about her? There’s no pictures on her desk, and in the little over a semester you’ve known her, she’s never mentioned a partner, kids, anything. 
Not that it matters. You’re a student, you’re her teacher’s assistant. That is definitely against some rules. 
Plus she would never think of you in that way. 
Except there’s the way that she tells you what a good girl you are for bringing her coffee and getting all your work as her TA done. The way she’s gotten more touchy with you; what first started as a brush of her skin against yours every now and then has turned into a hand on your shoulder, dragging her fingertips down your arm when she walks past you. The way her eyes find yours all the way from the front of the classroom when she’s teaching and says something funny. The wink she gives you when she catches you watching her. 
She has to know what she’s doing, right? 
“Ugh, I don’t have time to go to this fucking meeting,” she groans after class one day, dropping her head into her hands. 
You’re just about to get up and go, currently texting one of your friends about lunch plans, but you immediately look up at the older woman. “Everything okay?” 
She shakes her head, her dark, curly hair falling and blocking her face from view. “I have to go to this department meeting right now, but I need to finish inputting these grades and it’s taking forever.” You know along with History of Witchcraft, she also teaches at least one other class, a general one with a lot more students. 
And you also know that as a TA, you’re not technically allowed to help with what she’s doing right now. But that doesn’t stop you from asking: “Is there anything I can do?” 
“Oh, you don’t want to do this,” she says, the corners of her mouth quirking up, like she’s pushing. Like she wants to see if you’ll offer again.
You look at her earnestly. “I can help. I know how stressed you are, let me take some things off your plate.” 
It doesn’t take much convincing and she looks thrilled that you’re insisting. She stands up with her laptop and puts it in front of you on your desk, bending over so her mouth is right next to your ear, her arm firm against yours. 
You forget how to breathe. She is so close. 
“All you have to do,” she murmurs and goosebumps explode all down your body. You keep your eyes trained on the screen so you don’t accidentally do something stupid. “is copy the grade from the spreadsheet into the portal. The names aren’t in alphabetical order which is why it’s taking so long. This is the last time I have them submit anything like this. I thought it would be easier because the form they filled out automatically inputs their score into this, but there’s no order. Make sense?” 
You nod stiffly. You can feel her hot breath on your ear and it’s driving you crazy. 
“Thank you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she says and it almost makes you melt. “And this has to be our little secret, okay? I’m serious, I could get into serious trouble if anyone found out a TA was putting my grades in for me.” 
There’s a good chance you might combust on the spot. “I won’t say anything, Professor,” you croak and you don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking. 
“That’s my good girl,” she says and it feels like your entire body is on fire. “And please, call me Agatha.” 
She walks away, but her perfume lingers, vanilla and wood and a hint of something darker. Powerful, even. It makes your mouth water and if you close your eyes, you swear you can still feel her presence next to you. You text your friend that you won’t be able to make it to lunch, and lose yourself in the work. 
You don’t even realize how long it’s been until Agatha comes back from her meeting and is surprised to still find you there. 
“Honey, you’re not finished yet?” She asks. 
You blink and look at her, startled. “Oh — yeah, I’m almost done though.” She puts her hands on either side of your body from behind and her head gently rests atop yours while she looks at her computer. You suddenly lose the ability to move, think, and breathe. 
“God, you’re doing so well,” she says, her hands now moving to stroke up and down your arms. Your mind wishes she was saying that in a different context — you’re on your knees for her, fingers inside her and tongue licking at her while she praises you — but you force yourself to snap out of it. “Think you can finish up for me? I really need to get organized for my next class.” 
You swallow hard and your stomach rumbles. One of Agatha’s eyebrows raise, you can see it in the reflection from the screen, like she’s waiting to see what you’ll do. “Yeah, of course,” you finally agree. You can get food after. 
Her hands squeeze your shoulders. “Thanks, hon, you’re the best.” And you’re only too happy to keep working if it gets her to say more of those things. 
Agatha gets much more comfortable asking you to do things that aren’t specifically in your job description as a TA after that. You start putting in all her final grades. You teach a few classes here and there. She consults you for help with project ideas and lesson plans. 
She knows all she has to do is ask nicely, throw in a bit of praise, and you’ll do anything she wants. 
You know she might be using it to her advantage. But the way you feel when she smiles at you and says “There’s my good girl” makes any reservations you have melt away. 
Halfway through the semester, right after midterms happen, you and Agatha are both in her classroom; you’re already getting a head start on homework for next week while Agatha is tapping a pen against her desk and staring at you. 
“What are you doing this weekend?” She asks. It touches you in a strange way, usually she doesn’t bring up life outside of the classroom unless you do it first. 
Maybe she’s starting to like you, too. You pull up your calendar. “Oh, I’m going out tomorrow night with some friends to celebrate surviving midterms. Probably just go to a bar or a club or something.” You glance at her, expecting to find Agatha nodding in approval at a typical college kid’s night out, but instead she looks pissed. 
“You don’t have work you have to do instead?” She says stiffly, and you wonder what caused this change in her mood. 
You shake your head. “No, we’re just getting back into material in my other classes and I’ve already finished grading my half of your midterms. You saw that I put them into the system, right?” 
“Yes,” Agatha admits and looks like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. “Be careful, then.” She gets up out of her chair, your coffee cup in hand, and leaves the room. 
It’s clear she doesn’t want you to be there when she comes back, so you pack your stuff up, feeling completely confused, and start to go back to your dorm. 
You walk through the student union, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and your stomach sinks when you see her laughing with one of her students and you grit your teeth as jealousy gnaws at your stomach. Her eyes flit to yours, somehow knowing that you’re there, and she gently pats the student’s arm with her hand, nothing more than a casual touch, but you think you might throw up. 
Why are you having this much of a reaction? You shouldn’t be storming off, there shouldn’t be tears stinging your eyes, but it feels like everything is crashing and burning around you. 
For some reason, it feels like Agatha is upset with you, disappointed even. It shouldn’t be a big deal – it shouldn’t, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling. 
Should you go back and talk to her? Should you text her? Maybe you can make it up to her somehow, you’ll bring her two cups of coffee or volunteer to grade all her work, whatever it takes to get her to look at you with the same light she always did, with the same light she just gave one of her undergrads just now. You’re supposed to be special. Agatha is supposed to think that you’re special. 
You’re going crazy. The logical part in your brain knows it. You take deep breaths on your walk and try to calm yourself down, convince yourself that Agatha still likes you. She’s allowed to be nice to other people. It’s okay. 
And yet, anxious thoughts plague your mind the rest of the day, and you spend practically all of Saturday obsessing over every little thing that you could have possibly done wrong. It’s almost enough to make you cancel your plans with your friends, but then you realize that getting drunk might be exactly what you need. 
It’ll at least be a way to loosen up. This semester has been taking its toll on you, with the workload from your classes and all the extra stuff Agatha has you doing for her. Not that you’d complain about that or ever say no to her, but you do often end up skipping lunch and staying up late in your attempts to get your work for her done as quickly and as perfectly as possible. 
Yes, you think, a few drinks couldn’t hurt one bit. You fish around your closet until you find an acceptable outfit, feeling the best you have since yesterday morning, and you’re getting ready when your phone buzzes with a call. 
It’s Agatha. 
Immediately, your stomach erupts with butterflies and your heart starts to pound almost painfully in your chest. 
“Hello?” You ask after you raise the phone to your ear, clutching it close to you like you don’t want to miss a thing she says. 
There’s a moment of silence and you’re about to repeat yourself when she starts talking. “Hey, honey, listen, I’m really sorry to bother you right now, but do you think you could come to my room? I really need some help with the last of the midterms and then putting the grades in.” 
“Oh,” you say, a little crestfallen that this is all she’s calling about, and you weigh your options. You really want to go out with your friends, and some part of you thinks that maybe you can get her back after yesterday. Will she be as jealous as you were if you blow her off for your friends? “Can it wait until tomorrow or Monday? I’m about to go out.” 
Agatha gives a little hum. “I would really like all this stuff to be done tonight.” 
“Agatha, I–” You don’t know exactly where you’re going with it, you’re not sure exactly what to say. Why is it so hard to say no to her? You have every right to, you should toughen up and tell her that you can’t, you’ve already done enough for her, you’re not even supposed to be doing what she’s asking you to do.
“Please, honey?” She asks, so sincerely that it turns your insides to mush. “I just, I really need you right now. I really need your help.” 
You know what she’s doing. You know and it makes you really fucking angry, but also it makes you feel more wanted than you have in your entire life. “Will it take long?” You ask and listen to her relieved exhale. 
“An hour tops,” she promises, and you know it’ll take longer, but you tell her you’ll be there in ten minutes anyway. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, sweetheart. You’re my good girl.” She hangs up and you hate yourself a little for letting her control you so easily, but you still text your friends you’ll be late and head across campus. 
You’re still grappling with the conflicted feelings in your head when you push open the door to her classroom. Agatha’s sitting in her normal spot, legs kicked up on her desk, typing on the laptop in her lap. She looks up at you the second she hears you and smiles. Her eyes rake up and down your scantily-clad body in the dress you picked out to wear for the bar. 
“Sorry to drag you away from your plans, but thank you for coming,” she says. “I’m almost done, I just have a few more papers to grade. Thought it would go quicker if it was the two of us.” 
It’s almost enough to make you furious that she called you all the way over here for just a little bit of work that she easily could’ve done herself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, voice taut with frustration. 
She either doesn’t notice, or just ignores it, and she holds out a small stack of completed midterms. You snatch them and sit down at your desk, stealing a pen from the cup of writing utensils near Agatha. You’ve graded enough of the exams that you don’t even need the answer key and you fly through marking them up before handing them back to her and standing up. 
“Is there anything else?” You ask cooly and she raises an eyebrow at you. It’s not that you intend to sound rude, it’s just the general annoyance at yourself and at her that leaks into your tone. 
“Running off so quickly?” She retorts lightly. “I thought you would stay for a bit, maybe we could order some food or something.” The look on her face shows that she’s expecting you to give in. 
But you scoff. “I have plans. You know I have plans. And for some reason, you made me come here and do work that you would have finished in ten minutes. And now you want to just ‘hang out?’ Why?” 
You’re expecting her to give up the ruse, the pretense. What you’re not expecting is for her to slump down in her chair, eyes falling to the ground. 
“Look, honey,” she starts, and panic spikes through you. Is something wrong? “I’ve just been really stressed lately, and you have been helping me with that so much. You’ve been such a valuable assistant to me, and I deeply apologize if I’ve been taking advantage of that in any way.” 
And now you feel like the worst person ever. “No, no, it’s okay,” you rush to say, and if you were paying closer attention, you might have noticed the glint in her eyes. “I’m happy to help, really. Is there anything else I can do to help you feel less stressed?” 
It’s like you’ve said the magic words. Her head springs up, a smirk on her face. “What all are you offering, sweetheart?” 
You gulp, suddenly feeling like you’re in dangerous territory. “Um, well, I could go get us something to eat, or take some work off your plate, something like that?” 
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, tossing the options around in her head. Even though you’re standing above her sitting in her chair, you feel like she’s looking down at you. “You really are such a good girl for me, aren’t you? You know, I really should reward you for all the things you do for me.” 
Is it possible for all the air to get sucked out of a room just from one sentence? “Oh,” you start, your throat suddenly dryer than it’s ever been in your life. Surely she can’t be implying… 
Agatha stands up so she’s nose to nose with you and she cups your cheek, running her thumb over your bottom lip. You shiver under her intense gaze and your pulse quickens. It’s like every nerve inside you is vibrating with anticipation. 
You never thought in a million years that this would be happening. You had hoped, of course. “Agatha,” you say softly and she smirks, tugging at your lip, eyes burning into yours. You can hardly see the blue in them. 
“You take such good care of me,” she purrs. “Let me return the favor, honey? It’ll be such good stress relief for me, too.” 
Nodding breathlessly, you can feel the fire stoking to life in your stomach and her hands trace down your body to grab onto your hips, pulling you firmly against her. 
“You’re such a good girl for me,” Agatha murmurs and your cheeks heat up. Can she see the flush creeping down your neck too? 
She leans in, ghosting her lips over yours, and you chase when she pulls away, needing to feel her. “Ah ah,” she tuts. “Why don’t you get on my desk?” 
You throb when she says that and she slides her laptop and papers out of the way so you can hop onto it. Her hands find your thighs, stroking up and down, enjoying the warmth of your skin. Your head is already spinning with want and you can feel the mess between your legs. 
Agatha comes back in and you think she’s going to kiss you, but her head drops down and she presses her lips to your chin. Your head rolls back, giving her more access, and your eyes close at the sensation. 
Her fingers inch more up your thighs, getting closer to the heat at the juncture and you wrap your hands around her shoulders to get her closer. You bury your fingers in her hair as her lips move down your neck and she sucks, making your hips jerk. There’s a livewire under your skin, connecting the pulse point she flicks her tongue against to your pussy and you’re dripping. 
“Agatha, please,” you groan and she chuckles, her hot breath on your skin making goosebumps appear. 
She scrapes her teeth against your naked collarbone. “Please what, honey? Use your words like a good girl.” 
Your hips roll to try and get her to touch you where you need her. “Please – I need you, please fuck me,” you splutter and she smirks into your neck. 
Her fingertips stroke up your underwear and she gasps when she feels how wet you are. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so needy. “God, sweetheart, is this what I do to you? I call you a good girl and you’re dripping for me.” 
“Like you don’t know,” you whine, struggling to get more stimulation. 
Agatha barks out a laugh. “Oh, I do know, honey. I see how much I affect you. How you’ll do anything I ask as long as I give you a little praise. I love it, sweetheart.” 
You should be insulted that she thinks you’re easy, that you just got confirmation she’s been taking advantage of your mommy issues, but you can’t find it in you to care when she slides your underwear over and buries two fingers in you up to the hilt. 
A gasp tears itself out of your throat when she drags her fingers out and thrusts back in, filling you deliciously. “Fuck,” you swear and she sinks her teeth into your shoulder. 
“You feel so good, sweetheart,” she mumbles and starts to set a slow pace. Your walls grip her, trying to pull her in, and she reaches a thumb up to rub your clit. You clench around her fingers and moan obscenely. 
“Agatha, god, please,” you whimper. “I need more.”
Her grin is wolfish as she takes in the mess you’ve become. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” she says, beginning to go faster, scissoring and twisting and curling her fingers, each movement making you sharply inhale. “You look so fucking pretty like this, honey, you’re taking me like such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.” The praise makes you keen, the tension quickly building in your stomach. You know you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast if she keeps that up. “Say it,” she demands and through the fog in your brain, you can just barely understand what she wants. 
“I’m your good girl,” you cry, hips meeting every thrust, fingers scrambling to hold onto her shoulders for leverage and stability. “Fuck, please, Agatha.” 
Her lips kiss down the expanse of your chest and it’s like fireworks lighting up. Each touch only pushes you further and further towards your release, and you need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life. 
“So fucking perfect for me,” Agatha mutters. Your walls pulse around her and she smirks to herself. She has you exactly where she wants you, exactly where she’s been wanting you. “You’re everything I ever wanted. My good girl.” 
“Yes, fuck,” you sob, getting closer, so close you can taste it, you just need a little more. 
Agatha shoves her fingers back inside you as far as they’ll go and curls them so she finds that spot and it makes you moan. She licks up your earlobe, swipes at your clit hard, and whispers, “Mommy’s good girl.” 
And it sends you straight into an orgasm, noises slipping from your lips as you ride through the most explosive one you’ve ever had. She breathes more praises into your ear while still gently moving her fingers inside you and it only prolongs the pleasure you feel. 
How did she know exactly what you needed? 
Once you come down completely, she peppers your face with kisses while you take focus on inhaling and exhaling to slow your racing heart. “You did so good for me, honey, so good,” she says and you smile weakly. 
You examine the professor and see the desire and heat on her face and you know what you have to do. Your fingers release the locks of her hair you were holding onto and fumble with her belt and she helps you undo it and she slides her pants down and kicks them over her shoes. 
Agatha steps back and before you can make a sound of protest, she slinks down into her chair and spreads her legs so you’re able to see the wetness through her underwear, and fuck, she’s almost completely soaked through the fabric. 
As if in a trance, you slide off the desk and drop to your knees in front of her, leaving soft bites up the skin of her inner thigh and getting immense pleasure from the red marks that litter once you’re done. 
You should’ve texted your friends that you weren’t going to make it to the bar at all tonight, but that’s the last thing on your mind when you toy with the hem of her panties and she lifts her ass off the seat so you can take them off. 
“Be a good girl for Mommy,” she says, putting a hand on your head, tangling her fingers in your hair, and leading you to between her legs. 
Your mouth waters at the smell of her and you moan at the taste when you first lick through her folds. Your eyes flick up to watch Agatha’s head loll against the back of the chair. 
“God,” she sighs, looking down appreciatively at you. “You really are the best assistant I could’ve asked for.”
350 notes · View notes
startaegi · 1 day ago
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FAVOURITE CRIME, namgyu. 【 CHAPTER 01 】
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⤑ pairing, namgyu x fem!reader
⤑ synopsis, in which namgyu breaks the heart of his childhood sweetheart and tries to piece it back together again while fighting death.
⤑ series masterlist, favourite crime.
⤑ chapter two, coming soon!
⤑ notes, i had to give the reader an age to make the story make sense!! i listened to rosé’s album on repeat writing this chapter and it fits the plot perfectly
⤑ taglist, @chrisstyle @seonghwasslytherin @princessofthepuppets @ziallgf (let me know if you wanna be added)
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You often wondered about the first moment you fell in love. It happened so gradually that you couldn't quite recall the moment it finally clicked. The same thought followed you in the small hours of the night, on the long work days when your feet and back ached, and especially on the days when you missed his presence most.
It had been the summer of 2008 when you first met him. You were a bright eyed eleven year old, too innocent for the world. The sun had finally started shining after a long week of summer showers and so your sketch pads laid against the hot pavement, pencils scattered around you. Your bottom lip was jutted in concentration, hands flying across the paper, a brown pencil tucked between your fingers.
You paused as a shadow blocked the sunlight casting darkness across your drawing. You slowly glanced upward expecting your mother but instead a boy towered over you, eyes focused on the paper at your folded legs. You looked down and back at him again.
"That's pretty good" He said, finger pointed to the cat drawing you were currently sketching.
"Thanks" You replied, tone clipped. "Can you move? You're blocking the sunlight"
He shuffled to the side, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement. He continued to hover over you for the next minute or two, eyes focused and head moving when your pencil flicked in a certain direction. You tried your best to remain cool, uncomfortable under the unknown boys stare.
You dropped the pencil, staring up at him. "What are you doing?" You questioned.
"Watching you" He replied matter of factly.
"It's creepy"
He shrugged. "As i've heard before"
His words softened your gaze a little. You knew what kids were like. Their mean words, their horrid actions. You had known it a little too well, it was the reason you chose to stay so close guarded. Even at eleven you knew how cruel the world could be.
You straightened your back, apologetically looking back at him. "I didn't mean that" You said sincerely.
"It's okay, i'm used to it" He laughed it off. "Do you live here?" The boy pointed to the house behind you, the one with the windows pulled open and the trot music lowly drifting out.
"Yeah" You admitted, a little embarrassed.
He scratched the back of his arm, a red mark, almost like a burn, stood out against his pale skin. "Cool, we're neighbours" He beamed.
Hyehwa Station was fairly empty for a Saturday night. The only sounds came from the racketing trains passing through and the footsteps of the commuters heading home after their 9 to 5's. You wrapped the coat tighter around yourself, attempting to savour the warmth and took a seat at the empty bench. The small screen read ten minutes until the next train to Itaewon. You let out a sigh stretching your legs. The long work hours were slowly killing you.
Too busy trying not to fall asleep you took no notice of the person now sat beside you, too tired to care, until he loudly cleared his throat. You looked to your right, a well dressed man smiled, a little menacing if you were honest, at you, briefcase at his side. You smiled awkwardly back, bowing your head slightly out of politeness.
"Would you like to play a game?" The man questioned, the same uncanny smile on his face.
The unsettling feeling of dread settled in your stomach. You moved closer to the edge of the bench, as far from him as you could. "Excuse me?" You replied.
His head titled to the side, facial expression frozen. "Would you like to play a game?" He repeated.
"No thank you" You muttered under your breath.
The stranger didn't reply instead he stood up, opening the briefcase on the now empty spot he had once been sitting. You watched him in confusion, you didn't have the time or energy to be dealing with the strange people that frequented the subway stations. You pinched the bridge between your eyebrows, sighing loudly.
"Would you like to play a game?" He asked again as if stuck on a record.
"Look-" You started, turning to face him but froze momentarily. "What?" You asked dumbfounded.
Enough money to pay the month's rent gleamed up at you. Stacks upon stacks of Korean won sat neatly in the briefcase. You glanced up at him and back at the bills again. You didn't hesitate before asking, "What's the game?"
The man's eyes sparkled, his smile somehow becoming wider. He reminded you of something from the horror comics you used to read as a child.
He reached into the case pulling out two envelopes, red and blue. "Ddakji" He said, gaze fixated on you. "I'm sure you know how to play"
You hadn't in years, you'd probably only played it once or twice but you nodded nonetheless.
His twinkling eyes crinkled with a smile, "Win and i'll give you 100,000 won. Lose and you'll receive a punishment." He paused. "Ready?"
Your brows furrowed. "Punishment?"
"Just a light slap"
At this point you didn't care, you would've taken any punishment if it meant winning the money in that briefcase and you were winning it.
"Okay" You agreed, standing up and shrugging the backpack from your shoulders, then placing it onto the bench.
Five rounds later and you were 100,000 won richer. Your left cheek throbbed, your eyes filled with tears. Your mouth tasted metallic from the cuts you'd bit into your cheeks in frustration. He was too good at this, his calmness told you he'd done it one too many times.
"Congratulations, Y/N-ssi" The man applauded, slowly clapping.
You stared back at him through hooded eyes, attempting to catch your breath. He stretched out a hand, fingers delicately picking up the stack of cash and passing it to you. You quickly snatched it, scared he would take it away from you and tucked it safely into the pocket of your coat.
He closed the case, turning to face you cheerfully. It seemed this man didn't know how to be upset. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small brown card and holding it out for you. You hesitated but took it from his grasp. Three symbols stared up you, a square, a triangle and a circle.
"Call the number on the back if you're interested in winning a lot more" He said, bowing in your direction and then taking off towards the exit.
You flipped it over and truth be told a number was there. Your mouth twisted, mind in battle with itself. If it was another game of ddakji or even worse, some other childhood game, you'd be screwed, you would be loosing whatever money was up for grabs in the first round. Your childhood was spent in comic books and colouring pencils, or in textbooks and homework, not on the playground with other kids playing games, you'd have no idea how too.
Your mind contemplated it over on the train ride home, occupying your running thoughts with something else for once. You entered the cold apartment at almost midnight, instantly throwing yourself face down onto the bed. Your backpack and coat still on. You let your body sink into the mattress, exhaling loudly. The apartment was silent, so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming and the wind rattling against the windows.
These were the nights when your mind went to him. When it was quiet. When it was your heartbeat you could hear and not his underneath you. You flipped onto your back, backpack digging into you, moving uncomfortably you pulled it from your shoulders tossing it onto the floor. Your fingers found your pockets taking out the brown card, staring intently at the phone number. When had your life become such a shit show, when had accepting a beating from a stranger in the subway station for 100,000 become the normal. This wasn't how you planned it for yourself. You often wondered where it all went wrong.
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squireofgeekdom · 1 day ago
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Here is part of the forward of my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, which includes the aforementioned detail on how the war in the novels would have gone if it had been an allegory, and more on the idea of allegory
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Transcribing some key paragraphs:
"The real war does not resemble the legendary war in its process or its conclusion. If it had inspired or directed the development of the legend, then certainly the Ring would have been seized and used against Sauron; he would not have been annihilated but enslaved, and Barad-dur would not have been destroyed but occupied. Saruman, failing to get possession of the Ring, would in the confusion and treacheries of the time have found in Mordor the missing links in his own researches into Ring-lore, and before long he would have made a Great ring of his own with which to challenge the self-styled ruler of Middle-earth. In that conflict both sides would have held hobbits in hatred and contempt: they would not long have survived even as slaves.
"Other arrangements could be devised according to the tastes or views of those who like allegory or topical reference. But I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purported domination of the author.
"An author cannot of course remain wholly unaffected by his experience, but the ways in which a story-germ uses the soil of experience are extremely complex, and attempts to define the process are at best guesses from evidence that is inadequate or ambiguous. It is false, though naturally attractive, when the lives of an author and critic have overlapped, to suppose that the movements of thought or the events of times common to both were necessarily the most powerful influences. One has indeed personally to come under the shadow of war to feel fully its oppression, but as the years go by it seems now often forgotten that to be caught in youth by 1914 was no less hideous an experience than to be involved in 1939 and the following years. By 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead. Or, to take a less grievous matter: it has been supposed by some that 'The Scouring of the Shire' reflects the situation in England at the time I was finishing my tale. It does not. It is an essential part of the plot, though in the event modified by the character of Saurman as developed in the story, without, need I say, any allegorical significance or contemporary political reference whatsoever. It has indeed some basis in experience, though slender (for the economic situation was entirely different), and much further back. The country in which I lived in childhood was being shabbily destroyed before I was ten, in days when motor-cars were rare objects (I had never seen one) and men were still building suburban railways."
Additional pictures for the full foreward under the cut
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J. R. R. Tolkien: no, my books aren't about the war I experienced. It's just a story
J. R. R. Tolkien's works: you cannot go home, war ends entire bloodlines, you are mourning the death of your brother alone, you dug into the earth and permanently scored the land, you cannot explain what you have been through, you cannot go home, "that wound will never fully heal. He will carry it the rest of his life", leaving the women behind does not save them, the young die first, you cannot go home, the parent will bury their child, you have lost the wives and you will never connect with them again, "how shall any tower withstand such numbers and such reckless hate?", you are not the same, you cannot go home, you can never go home, your father will only side with those he sees as worthy bloodlines and you cannot change his mind, it is more meaningful Not to kill, sometimes your sacrifice accomplishes nothing, you cannot go home
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gtgbabie0 · 3 days ago
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Can I make a request for Ambessa with wife!reader and reader is a few months postpartum and she’s insecure about her figure. Ambessa decides to comfort her and show her how special she really is.
⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Ambessa Medarda x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: {The birth of your child left you with many doubts and your wife proves them all wrong} CW: talks of childbirth, body image issues, themes of postpartum depression, bathing together. AN: I got so carried away with this. oml.
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The birthing bed was your battlefield as the wife to a fearsome warlord— a fate that had surprisingly brought you more happiness than you had originally anticipated, that was until your waters broke and the contractions started. Then you were cursing Ambessa’s name.
You were prepared for this, your handmaidens spent day and night explaining to you the pain and showing you hand-drawn pictures— your mother had even told you of her own experiences. It was all pointless because you quickly learned that no word or picture could ever even begin to describe the pain of childbirth.
It didn’t get much easier from there. The battle continued even after the birth of a healthy baby boy and girl—oh how grateful your wife was—twins, a strong boy and girl to carry on her name… a miracle. You only wished you could share her joy, but you couldn’t. There was an odd disconnect that had managed to wedge itself between you, your children, and Ambessa.
Your skin didn’t feel your own, hell, your whole life didn’t feel like yours— almost as if you had taken the place of some stranger, a different woman that was not you. That woman was more suited to be a mother, a wife. It was a sickening feeling, one that often left you immobilised in bed.
You didn’t want to face the mirrors, hold your babies, or have your wife look at you, much less touch you—hence why you slept with a pillow stuffed between you both, not wanting to risk it… despite how much you deeply yearned for it, and oh how you really did yearn for her comforting touch.
It was the reason your maid brings you your nightly tea with just enough crushed poppy flowers to knock you out— you preferred to sleep before your wife got back from her duties, although you told your maids differently.
“Leave it on the table.” The words leave you with a sigh, not looking over to her from your place on the sofa— a deep red velvet colour, soft to the touch, your wife only accepts perfection.
“Lady Medarda, surely a simple ginger tea would be better for you?— The pain shouldn’t be lasting this long.” bless her, she sounded so concerned. Of course, your excuse of birthing pains could only last so long, five whole months had passed since— the warmth of summer slowly dwindling away, replaced by a sharp chill that autumn brought.
You shake your head, bringing your fingertips to your temple with a pitiful glint in your eyes, ready to put on a show— then the bedroom door opens and your handmaiden is bowing to Ambessa, whose eyes are fixed onto you, stepping off to the side politely.
“You’re back early.” The words fly from your lips faster than you could even process them and far more harshly than intended, however, the quiver in your voice gives you away. Your false bravado was not lost on Ambessa, that mask you wore did not fool her.
“Leave us.” Her words are sharp, stern and has the maid scurrying off— dress clutched in her hands. You could already hear the gossip she was sure to spread with the other servants.
A sigh escapes you as your eyes flicker over to the flames in the fireplace, watching the embers dance wildly within the hearth— Ambessa’s heavy, golden spear hanging above, displayed proudly, every nick and indent tells a different story. You let your mind wander in hopes she'll drop it.
“Do I need to send for a doctor?” She doesn't. Your wife was a smart woman, she knew you like the back of her hand and could read all your inner thoughts, until recently— now getting a single word out of you was like trying to get blood out of a stone. Instead, she was left with this distance you had managed to put between yourself and her. Ambessa felt it, she just didn’t know how exactly to approach it and it was driving her crazy.
She was a practical woman, fixing her problems with strength, not emotions, this was not her strong suit. But she also did not know defeat.
“No, I am fine.” The lie didn’t sound convincing in the slightest, not even in your own ears— the words make you wince and from the sound of her scoff she didn’t believe you either.
You hated to be the cause of her concern, gods only know how busy the woman already was. Ambessa watches you, studying your movements with slightly narrowed eyes as you tug your shawl over your shoulders— grasping the soft fabric as if it were some sort of protective shield, a lifeline, that you wished desperately to disappear into.
“This is not fine, lie to your handmaidens all you want but do not lie to me.” Her tone is much softer than you deserve, you can’t help but cower away with a look of shame in your eyes— it only triples when she kneels down in front of you, her big, battle-worn hands resting over your knees.
The Ambessa Medarda, a feared warrior, kneeling before you like you were some sort of deity worth praying to… no it didn’t feel right.
The words die on your tongue, getting stuck in the back of your throat tightly— a whimper is the only thing you can let out, such a weak sound, strained with this insecurity that had been eating away at you for months.
“I do not know what it is— just an ache I cannot rid myself of, no matter what I do.” you breathe, dropping your head slightly as your gaze falls to her hands, the way her thumb rubs the inside of your knee. “I bring shame upon this family— upon you.”
Ambessa tuts at your words, pinching your chin between her index finger and thumb. “Shame?— look at me,” your eyes find her own hesitantly. “You are my greatest treasure… my proudest accomplishment.”
“I can’t be— I’m not fit for motherhood, to be your wife. I am weak.”
She bristles, “No flower, you are the furthest thing from weak. Motherhood is no easy feat, but we strengthen each other… you have me. Forever.” her eyes never once straying from your own.
You have only ever heard such loving sincerity from her a handful of times, on the day she asked you to marry her and the first time she had taken your maidenhead— your wedding night, and now. It’s a stern tone that is draped in earnest, so heavy with love, leaving no space for arguments.
Ambessa wouldn’t hear another word of it, of you speaking poorly of yourself— she had taken someone’s tongue after they foolishly insulted you, that wasn’t for nothing, that was out of devotion.
So all you can do is apologise— “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” but even that she doesn’t want to hear, her lips pressing a soothing kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“No more apologies, no more distance. You have me.” She promises, words whispered against your cheek before she pulls back to admire you with a soft yet firm stare. “Understood?”
“Yes, I understand.” You whisper, leaning into her hand as soon as her rough palm meets your cheek— your chest tightens and your eyes prickle with tears, it had been far too long since you felt her tender touch. With a hum of acknowledgement, she leans forward, still kneeling before you, her hand curving across your jaw to cup the back of your head— her lips meeting your own in a slow kiss, the rough pad of her thumb brushing your tears away.
“Shh my heart, I’m right here.” She soothes, lips brushing along your jaw when you melt further into her— trembling hands resting upon her broad shoulders which she cages within her own big ones as she pulls back to admire you. “I’ll have a bath prepared for us.”
Her words make you tense, something uncomfortable churning within your stomach at the thought. “No, my body has changed— it’s—”
“—It is just as perfect as the night I first had you.”
“No, it’s different.”
“Sweetling, you have brought life into this world. It’s a beautiful change.” She murmurs against your knuckles with an almost reverent gleam in her eyes, one that almost breaks down the defences that you have built up around your fragile heart, almost.
Ambessa can sense your unease, the hesitation— the way you can’t seem to meet her eyes and it destroys her, how had she failed to protect you from everything but this? She brings your palm to rest over her heart, her eyes searching your own. “Trust me with this, let me worship you.” there's a soft question hidden beneath her tone, behind the firmness of what sounds like a demand.
“Just— Just a bath,” you whisper, glossy eyes and strained voice and she nods in response— cupping your face ever so gently as she repeats “Just a bath.” in agreement.
You trust her enough to guide you to your shared bathroom, enough to let her peel your nightgown off with careful hands, fingertips grazing across your body ever so slightly. The comforting scent of rose and honey wisps around you, carrying memories of nights you’ve shared like this and the prospect of being close to her seems a little less daunting as the familiarity warms your heart and the hot water envelops your body.
Ambessa's form engulfs your own as she sits behind you, strong thighs caging either side of you. It was protective, how her hands rub across your shoulders soothingly and the soft whispers of sweet nothings that leave her lips, muffled into the nape of your neck. She wishes to rid you of any self-doubt that had wormed itself into your mind.
Bubbles splay across your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees that you’ve tucked beneath your chin in an attempt to make yourself smaller. “Flower?— relax into me,” her voice breaks you out of your thoughts as she slowly guides you back against her chest, wrapping an arm around your abdomen whilst the other moves to cup your cheek.
The candlelight flickers against your face as you tip your head backwards to look up at her, her thumb wiping away a stray tear that had escaped you. “Forgive me for not noticing your pain sooner,” She whispers, dropping a kiss to your forehead and then another to the tip of your nose.
The warm water laps at your bodies slightly as you move to curl up further into her, wanting to disappear in her embrace. “Just don’t let go,” and with that her arms tighten around your body, leaning to rest her forehead against your own.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Your place in my heart is yours, no one can take that from you.” You sigh at your words, letting out a teary giggle as she peppers kisses over your face. For the first time in a while, you felt whole, full, in a way you thought you would never feel again, for the time being at least… you savoured every second of it.
Her fingertips trace over the stretch marks left by your pregnancy, letting her lips trail over the dewy skin of your shoulders whispering soft “I love yous,” against you as she washes your hair— smirking at the way you let your guard down for her, how your eyes flutter close and the way sigh and hum in delight as she massages your scalp.
The water felt cleansing in a way, as it trickles down your head and along your back, washing away the months of aches that weighed on top of you. “How does that feel?” She asks, lips brushing along your jaw.
“Good, much better.” The relief in your tone brought immeasurable amounts of satisfaction to her that she couldn’t help but chuckle, happiness blooming through her chest as she replies with a soft. “That’s what I like to hear, my sweet.”
Ambessa vows to herself in that very moment to spend the night and every other night paying homage to the curves and dips of your body, to each stretch mark that maps over your skin until you feel nothing but love— she would put your pieces back together again no matter how jagged the edges were.
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kiame-sama · 2 days ago
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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 27
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(Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy, and often sings with other Mourning Doves in the early mornings, calling with them and cooing as he flies around Sage Island. Neige is a stress plucker, so he will occasionally have bald-spots on his neck where he had picked and plucked his own feathers. He usually tosses his feathers after molts, but has since been collecting and saving his feathers so he can use them to make something for the Human with them)
Warnings; ovulation, explanation of ovulation and menstrual cycles, less than behaved students, protective Platonic Yanderes, several yanderes, competing yanderes, more fluff, comfort chapter, selkie, hellcat, sphinx, harpies, minotaur, shadow-man, drider, plant Nymph, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Werewolf, Shinigami, Unicorn, Kelpie, Water Nymph, Satyr, Fawn, merfolk, Cecaelia, Genie, Naga, Dragon, Vampire Bat,
~~~~
Things had settled down considerably when Malleus and the other students- those that came with Crowley and Diasomnia- left. The tension that had been in the air lulled and quickly faded away along with the icy cold. Thankfully, you had managed to keep Malleus calm and bring him back to reason without incident and you knew Crowley and the other professors were glad too.
You sighed, sitting back on one of the many couches with Grim as Divus was quite content to join you, looking as worn and stressed as you felt. Even Trein seemed to be counting himself lucky that Malleus was convinced to leave without incident. It vaguely interested you to see the professors in such a domestic setting as the all seemed much more approachable now that they were the ones guarding you. Part of you felt relieved to get a break from the intensity of the other students.
"Tea?"
You looked up somewhat startled to a cup of tea being held out to you. Out of politeness, you accepted the cup while Trein joined you on your other side, lounging on the long couch with a sigh.
"I had a few questions for you, if I may?"
"Of course Professor."
"Please, Trein or Mozus would suffice, (Y/n). No need for formalities in your own home."
"Force of habit, Sir."
"How often is your cycle? It would behoove us to plan in advance so your schedule can be addressed and so we are made aware ahead of time."
You sipped the tea to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, figuring one of the professors would ask eventually. At least they seemed far less influenced by your scent and by your ovulation, so they seemed safe enough to let your guard down around them. The tea was a nice herbal blend that was gentle and soothing in your throat.
"Monthly. The bleeding period marks an end of the cycle to begin anew. Ovulation is at the height of the cycle, meaning more fertile, not more interested in finding a mate."
"Mating isn't required for ovulation?"
"No. But there is a set timer on my fertility as a result. Every month marks another sex cell- we call these cells eggs- lost and most Humans have a set number of eggs. I still have years left on my timer, but it does continue to march on. When I am out of eggs, the cycle stops and I am considered to no longer be fertile."
"How long does the actual ovulation period last?"
"The height of it is only 12-24 hours. But the hormonal imbalance leading up to and after take a few days."
Trein nodded, sipping his own tea as he hummed watching the drink pensively. You watched Crowley walk over to the angled couch next to the one you were on, curling his legs under him like a great big bird perching. His talons ended in wickedly sharp points, and you vaguely realized he must have removed his shoes before settling. Divus spoke up next, his voice a relaxed drawl.
"So for at least a day everyone on campus will be attempting to burst the doors down. Lucky for us today and tomorrow are free of classes. I trust you've been keeping up with your homework?"
"As best I can. It has been a hectic first month. Goodness knows I've been attacked so many times it feels like years have passed."
Divus frowned at this, watching you for a long moment before he spun his red riding crop between his gloved fingers. A sudden glow came from the gem on it and you found your clothes had changed to comfortable lounge-wear in reds, blacks, and whites. While you examined your new clothes a sudden weight fell on your shoulders and you realized he had placed his fur over you. This must have been an act of extreme trust or protectiveness as even Crowley looked surprised with Divus' behavior.
The lovely professor patted the top of your head gently as he settled back down, almost insisting you stay put where you had settled. Trein seemed to be of a mind with Divus as the couch changed shape to a much more comfortable and plush piece of furniture, the large screen on the far wall adjacent flicked to life. As you got comfortable in the large and warm fur coat, you heard footsteps and turned to see Coach Vargas and Sam approaching with their arms full of snacks.
Grim purred excitedly and snuggled into your lap as a movies began to play, the professors all settling down around you.
~•§•~
"Can you believe this, Rook? Telling us- her sworn guards- that we can't be present to protect her during such a delicate time!"
The Harpy was ranting angrily to the Drider that accompanied him, Epel keeping pace next to the large Drider as they followed the Peacock. Naturally, Vil was furious he wasn't allowed to even accompany the others in confronting Malleus. He deserved the right to be there after saving those Royal Sword Academy fools that had let themselves be stabbed in the back by that prince. Instead, Azul and his two goons were selected to go.
He was so angry he could scream!
"I don't believe we have actually sworn to anything, Roi du Poison, merely agreed to accept duties should they fall upon us. Non, it would not be fair to claim we are sworn knights, but perhaps Mademoiselle Trickster would look upon us favorably if we did swear ourselves to her protection."
"We will have to do that when the duty to guard her falls upon Pomefiore. Which means you at least have a few days to shape up, Epel!"
The plant Nymph jumped at suddenly being called out, nodding quickly to the temperamental Harpy ahead of him. Epel had been busy thinking about the Human in question, remembering how soft her hands were holding his and the way she stood up for him so passionately. He wanted to protect her from everyone else and prove he can take on the protector role for her, so her soft hands never have to harden with work.
"O-of course, Housewarden Vil!"
"Don't think I've forgotten how you kept slipping back into your accent during the photoshoot despite my warnings."
"Right... Sorry, Housewarden Vil, I will work harder."
"As you should. We all need to be at peak when we finally have the right to guard her."
Rook and Epel both nodded, quickly agreeing with the proud Harpy.
"Yes, Vil!"
~•§•~
"To think, no one was selected this week! I thought we already prooved we were trustworthy to guard that Mousey!"
Leona snarled and paced atop his sun-warmed rocks where he usually lounged in Savanaclaw, clearly in a bad mood. He was growling and his tail lashed behind him as he walked, not only angry at being cheated out of a day so that ridiculous Malleus could stop his bitch-fit, but furious he was not trusted at this crucial time. Nevermind the fact that the same dorm is not likely to be selected twice in a row, Leona was angry and felt cheated.
"I'm just sayin', Leona, maybe it's a good thing she's stuck with the teachers."
"And how," Leona roared, "is this possibly a good thing!?"
"Because no one else can get to her either, right?"
"..."
"If they're keeping us away, they're keeping everyone away."
"Ruggie, for once you actually seem to have a brain rattling around in that skull of yours."
The Gnoll huffed at the obvious insult, planning to steal all of the cash Leona had in his wallet as revenge. Jack was sitting nearby, unsure what was his rank now that Savanaclaw was no longer guarding the precious Human. It seemed like Leona wasn't keen to run him off, in any case.
"Isn't this a good thing for her too? I mean, yesterday was rough on her with the Overblot and the attack. I think she deserves some time away from it all."
"Oh? And you think the professors aren't just going to stress her out more?"
"No," Jack shook his head, his fur bouncing with his movements, "you saw how mad professor Divus got when you made her skip his class. And Trein is always praising her any time she answers a question in class. I think the professors all see her as their pup and are going to act like she is their pup. Even Headmage Crowley calls her his little chick."
"Annoying as you are, you have a point, Puppers. Nothing to do about it now."
Leona sighed and flopped down almost dramatically on the warm rocks, the tension in the dorm falling as the Lion returned to lounging. Of course, everyone was still keen to know who was declared winner after the interruption during the Spelldrive. Most of the Pride figured they would win, not even aware Malleus had been holding back during their game.
~•§•~
"Do you think we should tell Papa Hades?"
"Tell him what?"
"That she is in the middle of her cycle!"
"I mean, maybe, but Headmage Crowley said he has it under control."
"Come on, Idi-nii!"
Ortho whined loudly, making Idia look over at him from the game he had been playing with his online buddies, trying to set up a game with the more absent than usual MuscleRed. Idia figured everyone was just gonna let the professors handle it, no need for him to step in. Even if there was a problem- which there wasn't- he still had cameras all over that building and would be the first to know of any issues.
"What??"
"Aren't you the least bit worried about her?"
"She has the entire staff of NRC as her DPS, Tanks, and Healers, what would I be worried for?"
Ortho sighed, seeming to visibly deflate as his breath fogged up his mask. Idia was right, of course, but Ortho was still worried. He liked playing games with (Y/n) as well as talking with her about everything he could think of. It was only natural the young Shinigami was worried.
"Look, Ortho, we can video call her later if she feels up for it, okay?"
"Okay..."
~•§•~
"To think, those-! Those-! Those hooligans know (Y/n) is in the middle of her cycle and completely exposed to their vile thoughts!"
"Riddle," Trey tried to soothe the upset Unicorn who was prancing and pacing and tossing his head back and forth angrily, "I'm sure the professors have it well in hand."
"Do they, Trey? Do they? Absolute hogwash!"
"You saw Malleus return to Diasomnia, and there was no black sky or rolling storm so he left peacefully. Everyone else who could pose an issue couldn't possibly stand against all of the staff together."
Riddle stopped his trotting and pawed at the ground in frustration, ripping up a bit of the grass sod under his hooves. Even his tail was curling and flicking as he took back up his worried trotting pace. Riddle was working himself into a meltdown and even Trey wasn't doing much to help soothe the distressed Unicorn, though not for a lack of trying.
"-and if someone gets by them, what then? No matter what happens someone-"
Riddle was babbling at this point, occasionally kicking one leg back as he walked and stomped angrily. He was obviously no longer listening to any of the four who stood trying to calm him, muttering axiously and snorting every few steps. No matter what Trey said there was clearly no snapping Riddle out of his current mindset.
Cater had retired to lay along Trey's back, lazily looking at his phone as he checked the ever increasing follower count on (Y/n)'s magicam account. Cater was glad that the staff thought of adding himself, Vil, and Rook as page admins so the soft Human would be kept away from the thirsty messages sent by countless monster accounts. At least he could delete these messages and send the tame ones through for her to read.
"THE TREES!"
"The... Trees?"
"Yes, the trees outside of Ramshackle! How did I miss it? They're easily a way someone could get in and hurt dear (Y/n)! We must warn the Headmage at once!"
Riddle reared up, whinnying loudly as he took off towards the mirror, Trey tiredly following after with Cater tagging along on the ride. This left Ace and Deuce looking at one another before shrugging. They wanted to see (Y/n), sure, but they also knew better than to bother the teachers or her many guards. Maybe they would text and check in on her.
~•§•~
Azul sighed as he and the twins returned to the Monstro Lounge, feeling surprisingly worn even though they weren't the ones facing off with the Dragon. Even being around with that tantalizing scent in the air was all too tempting an offer to their senses despite the beast that stood guarding the soft Human. All three had a taste of those pheremones and felt their own bodies cry out in response, longing for a taste or just to submerge themselves in the alluring scent that taunted them.
"Ne, Azul, d'ya think we're gonna get to guard Shrimpy soon?"
"I certainly don't see why not. Erikír's betrayal and Overblot certainly put us in good standing with her given we were who she sought out in times of strife. Leona was allowed to guard her after he proved himself, I don't see why the same won't be true for us."
"She sure smelled good though. Just wanna take a big bite and squeeze till she pops!"
Azul frowned at the swaying Eel that giggled to himself, biting playfully at the empty air in front of him. He had been in a considerably good mood following the brief encounter with (Y/n) and had not stopped talking about her. Similarly, Jade seemed to be lost in his own world, standing off to the side with his mouth open and his eyes closed.
Azul could tell immediately that both twins were affected by (Y/n)'s alluring scent and longed to return to the soft Human for another dose of that scent. Not like Azul was any better. He could feel the way he longed to reach out and grab her, holding her close to his chest while he nuzzled her neck. The things he would do if he were only allowed.
~•§•~
"Hey, Jamil, what d'you think made the wish work when (Y/n) made it?"
"Hm?"
"The wish. What do you think made it work?"
"I don't know, but don't you dare make another one or you might just wind up killing her on accident."
"But what if it means something?"
Jamil sighed as he tidied up his nest of pillows, Kalim's beautiful golden lamp shining in the center. The Genie was lounging next to his lamp, toying with the gem-topped lid and smiling absently. It had been on his mind ever since it happened last week and he wondered if it had something to do with the Human.
"I doubt it means anything. You can't grant another wish for her, that's final."
"But why? I'm sure it will be fine-!"
"Kalim! You kill anyone who makes a wish. Anyone. No matter how well intentioned you are, you kill them. Consider yourself lucky it didn't kill her. Not even being a member of the Al-Asim family would be able to save you from Malleus if you killed her. You are so lucky it didn't turn out differently. Don't tempt fate."
~•§•~
"Malleus?"
Lilia asked gently, approaching the sullen prince who sat looking out over the Diasomnia domain. Though he had agreed to leave at the behest of (Y/n), he still wanted to fly straight back and make that soft Human he adored accept him as her mate. His instincts roared and rattled in its gilded jail to be set free so that he may take what is rightfully his.
Malleus didn't even hear the other Fae approaching as he glowered and stared outwards. He wanted his mate and he didn't want to have to keep his distance, but those words kept repeating in his head and tormenting his every moment. The Dragon didn't know his beloved (Y/n) could ever look so angry like she did in that moment.
'I don't think I want to be part of your Hoard.'
Ice slowly crept up under him as those words repeated in his head and he clutched his chest in pain. Lilia took notice as well and quickly stepped in to soothe the Dragon. Though he wished she had done it differently and without threat, Lilia had to admit that (Y/n) handled Malleus expertly and he had no doubt she would fare just as well as his bonded mate.
"Malleus, I'm going to guess you keep hearing her threatening to leave the Hoard? She told you she wanted to stay so long as you could respect her space during her cycle. She still wants to be in the Hoard, she's just under a lot of stress right now."
"... It hurts, Lilia. I didn't think it would hurt so much."
"Love can hurt. Especially when you already love someone so much you just want to hold them close, but they aren't to that point yet. (Y/n) Isn't to that point yet, but she will be."
"What if she denies me? If she turns me away when I finally bare my heart to her?"
"She won't."
Malleus slumped into his arms, hiding his face as he fell to his knees at the window, his heart seizing in pain at the thought of what could happen. He didn't want to face the loneliness of his existence for much longer. It was a painfully lonely existence, the life of a Dragon, but now there was a light in his darkness, stars in his inky sky, the moon shining upon his face in the endless night.
The stars never seemed quite as bright without his darling love close by. The air was never as sweet. The whining of the wind was not as musical. Even his own nest felt so very empty and lonesome.
Lilia rest a hand on the Dragon's shoulder, laying one wing across his back to soothe him. It wasn't the embrace Malleus was craving, but he still took comfort from his friend, Hoard member, and caretaker. All the Bat could really do was be there for the Dragon while they waited.
~•§•~
You were cozy and extremely comfortable in what was now a cocoon comprised of Divus' fur, blankets, snuggly stuffed animals Trein insisted you take, and one happy boy Grim.
Sam was busy making a delicious smelling gumbo in the kitchen while you hummed along happily to the jaunty tune of the movie you were watching. It was catchy and bouncy in all the right ways that had you practically wiggling in your cocoon like a happy silk moth larva. The five men had been quite happy to show you all of their favorite timeless classics and you had to admit the beasts certainly knew how to swing.
For what felt like the first time in a very long time, you were able to just exist and enjoy what you were doing. There was no worry of gently navigating around the beasts feelings or the constant arms race they all seemed to be in for your affections. You could just vibe and snack to your heart's content, feeling so very protected in the large cuddle fortress you had made out of the couch.
Trein had even brought over Lucius who cuddled up to Grim and wrestled with the energetic kit. Even as the two napped in the growing pile of cuddle, Divus was the one to remind you to drink and move around every once in a while. Crowley had been trying to get Trein or Divus to give up their spot to no avail and pouted next to Vargas on the other couch.
If you could get more time like this, maybe things wouldn't be too bad after all.
206 notes · View notes
hanniebaeee · 12 hours ago
Text
Pieces of Us
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Chris Bang x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MDNI
Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut
Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.
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It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.
You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.
Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.
“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.
“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.
“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”
Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.
“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.
“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.
“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”
You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”
Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”
Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.
“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.
“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”
You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.
“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”
He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.
“You're so dramatic,”
“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.
The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.
“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”
You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.
He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.
“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”
“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.
He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.
“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”
Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”
It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.
The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.
“No. But it’s a start.”
It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.
But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.
“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.
Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.
He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”
“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”
He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”
“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.
He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.
“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.
You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.
“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.
“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.
As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.
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It starts with a look. It always does.
The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.
But then he looks at you and the air shifts.
“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.
“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.
Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.
And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.
You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.
“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.
“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.
“This,” you say between kisses.
He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,
“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.
You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.
It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.
Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.
You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.
You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.
So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.
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Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.
Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.
You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.
“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.
“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.
You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.
And he won't let you live this down. Ever.
You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.
Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.
You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.
Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.
“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”
He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.
“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.
“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.
“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.
“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.
The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.
“Soooo…”
“Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”
“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.
“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”
“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.
“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”
You bury your face in a throw pillow.
“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.
“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”
You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.
“We’re not -”
“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”
You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.
You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.
“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”
You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”
“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.
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Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.
When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.
Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?
You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.
“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.
You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”
She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.
“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.
“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.
You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.
You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.
The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.
But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”
Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.
“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”
“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.
You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.
“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.
He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.
“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.
Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”
“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”
He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.
“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”
It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.
Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.
You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.
“Baby, please don't-”
“I love you-”
There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.
And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.
He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.
“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.
“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”
You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.
“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.
You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.
“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.
“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”
Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.
“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”
More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.
He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.
You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.
Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.
His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.
You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.
And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.
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You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.
Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.
You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.
And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.
---
One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”
“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.
“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”
“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.
“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.
“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”
You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.
“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.
“Minho…” you warn.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”
Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.
---
Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.
“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”
“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.
“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.
Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.
The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.
It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.
He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.
“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.
“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.
He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.
It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.
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The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.
Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.
For the first time… in a very long time.
And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.
“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.
“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.
“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”
She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.
Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
“Oh,” your mom says.
There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”
Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.
Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.
“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.
He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”
Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.
“Y/N… what’s going on here?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.
“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”
“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.
You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.
“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.
“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.
“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.
“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”
Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.
“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”
You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.
“Yeah, Mum. I am.”
Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.
“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”
Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.
Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.
“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.
“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.
He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.
You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.
It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.
Divider by @saradika-graphics
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l
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reasonsforhope · 2 days ago
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Re: a couple people in the notes:
Some real talk for the new year, about where we now stand, and what the next years are going to look like. (Still ends on a "be hopeful or else" kind of note, but definitely gets into some heavy truths about the meaning of recent events.)
Look, I'm not saying that the effects of warming aren't already bad, or won't get worse. I'm from California, I currently live in LA. My state's been on fire for half my life. Natural disasters starting amping up early here (and we're certainly in the middle of another historic number now).
But like I said, my state's been breaking horrible disaster records constantly for the past ten years. And you know what? Natural disasters have been getting more and more survivable for years, largely thanks to faster warnings and better mass communication (x).
Does it suck how many natural disasters there are now? Yeah. Are we going to need to organize and mobilize (both politically and especially community-wise) like never before to see as many people through these times as best as possible? Also yeah.
An unknown number of the most optimistic futures were foreclosed when Trump won the US election. That's painful but a reality.
But for twenty-ish of the past twenty-five years, the science said we weren't going to survive climate change at all.
For most of my life, we were worried that we had set Earth on a course to become like fucking Venus (which is, on average, well over 800 degrees Farenheit). Even if it didn't get that bad, we were so worried that global warming might wipe out all life on earth - except maybe the cockroaches. Literally, when I was a younger the kids at my church put on a play about that. It was like an adaptation of A Christmas Carol where the future only had talking cockroaches. I grew up so worried about this. (Yes it was very granola why do you ask.)
But starting a few years ago, studies have shown that there wasn't going to be a runaway greenhouse effect that could turn us into Venus; that earth is warming, yes, but we don't seem to be in danger of that.
Between that and the fact that the adoption of renewables globally is too fast to be stopped, and we do have the technology and environmental science knowledge to eventually re-lower global temperatures by getting to net negative carbon emissions (x), and most countries and at least 73% of people in all countries for which there is data (x) actually care very much about the climate, yeah, we have closed the door on the lava planet future.
And yeah, I do think that's worth celebrating.
That's a massive fucking victory.
Semi-relatedly, I also think that, given the loss of the US election, there's a really, really strong chance the developing world will be what saves us, and we'll just be lucky to be along for the ride.
Most people have no idea of the kinds of stories and statistics coming out of the developing world and Indigenous communities. The world is changing for the better on the environment, even as disasters (and the US) are getting worse. Solar power is going to revolutionize the fucking world, because it's going to grant humanity universal access to electricity, and that's going to revolutionize the world, especially the developing world (aka the global majority). And most people have no idea at all, much less how much it's going to change.
So, yeah, natural disasters are going to keep getting worse.
But there's a long, long long fucking way between "natural disasters are going to keep getting worse" and "the extinction of all of humanity and/or the vast majority of life on earth"
And yeah, I am going to celebrate that fucking difference.
Because for over twenty years, I was afraid I'd never get to.
That difference is absolutely worth celebrating.
We have already averted truly apocalyptic levels of global warming.
Yes, read that again. Let it sink in. This is what the science now says. We have already averted truly apocalyptic global warming.
To quote David Wallace-Wells, author of The Uninhabitable Earth, from his huge feature in the New York Times:
"Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders, we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years... The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse." (New York Times, October 22, 2022. Unpaywalled here. Emphasis mine. And yes, this vision of the future is backed up by the current science on the issue, as he explains at length in the article.)
So we've already averted truly apocalyptic warming, and we've already cut expected warming IN HALF in just the past five years.
The pace of technology, of innovation, of prices, of feasibility, of discovery, of organizing, of grassroots movements, of movements in other countries around the world, have all picked up the pace so fast in the last five years.
Renewable technology and capacity are both increasing at an exponential rate. It's all S-curves, ones that look like this:
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-via The Economist, June 20, 2024.
How much more will we manage in another five years? Another ten? Another twenty?
I know the US is about to fucking suck about the environment for the next four years. But the momentum of renewable energy is far too much to stop - both in the US (x) and around the world.
(Huge shoutouts to India, China, and Brazil for massive gains for the environment in renewables, and Brazil for massive progress against Amazon deforestation.)
We're going to get there.
Say it with me. We're going to get there.
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luxerians · 3 days ago
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The Last Mask (09)
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Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader
Chapter 09 - Purpose
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Story Masterlist
NEXT : Chapter 10
PREV : Chapter 08
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For a moment, you felt yourself drifting, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Or maybe you were already asleep. But then, after what felt like twenty minutes, you heard movement. Someone stepped cautiously on your mattress, careful not to touch you, and Jun-hee’s voice broke the quiet.
“Mr. Seong, I need to use the bathroom.”
“It’s too dangerous to go by yourself,” Gi-hun replied immediately.
You stirred, sitting up slowly with groggy eyes. “I’ll go with you.”
“It’s okay, big sis,” Jun-hee replied, sounding a little guilty for waking you.
Shaking off your drowsiness, you carefully got up from the mattress.
“I needed to go to the restroom too, actually,” you said which was a lie. You just wanted to accompany the pregnant Jun-hee.
Jun-hee hesitated for a moment before nodding. With that, Gi-hun stepped aside, giving you both room to pass as you headed toward the door to the ladies’ restroom.
“Oh, we can go together,” a voice chimed in.
You and Jun-hee turned to see player 149 – the mother – walking over with a wide grin. She moved toward you two with a relaxed stride through the open area of the dormitory. Both you and Jun-hee bowed your heads politely as she joined you.
The three of you reached the restroom door, and Jun-hee knocked softly. When there was no immediate response, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Finally, the circular window on the door slid open, revealing a triangle-masked guard who peered out at you all in silence.
“We need to use the bathroom,” stated Jun-hee.
“No,” the guard answered solemnly. “Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”
Jun-hee added, “Please. I’m not feeling very well.”
The guard repeated, “No. Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”
Player 149 rushed to move in front of Jun-hee, deciding to talk to the guard herself. “Look. Mr. Triangle, even though you’re wearing a weird mask, you’re still human, aren’t you? In the outside world, you might have a sister like them and a mom like me. When ladies say they need to use the bathroom, it’s for reasons they can’t tell you.”
You and Jun-hee rapidly nodded your head.
“If you can’t understand that, you shouldn’t even call yourself human,” said the mother. “You really shouldn’t.”
Suddenly, the guard closed the window without a word, shutting the three of you out.
The mother’s voice broke the silence, frail and filled with emotion. “Listen. Ever since I entered my 60s, I’ve had bladder control issues. I can’t go out without wearing a diaper, but I couldn’t bring any of the things I need here. Do you really have to make me wet myself?
“Imagine if I was your mother, Mr. Triangle. You wouldn’t do that to your mother. I came here because of my son’s debt. I should at least get to pee when I want, shouldn’t I?”
Her voice rose as she cried out, “What did I do in my previous life to deserve—”
Before she could finish, the door swung open, revealing a triangle-masked guard holding their weapon. The mother’s face lit up with gratitude as she grinned appreciatively.
As the three of you stepped past the door, another presence approached from behind. You turned to see player 120.
“Can I come too?” she asked the guard directly.
Jun-hee gave her a long stare but the mother quickly spoke up. “Oh, that’s okay. She’s a woman. Her name is Hyun-ju.”
She’s the one I was hiding behind during Red Light, Green Light. So her name is Hyun-ju, you thought.
The four of you were guided by another triangle guard to the ladies’ restroom. Along the way, the mother walked close to Jun-hee, gently asking about her family and if her parents might be worried about her.
Jun-hee’s reply was distant. “I don’t have any. I have no parents.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. The mother’s concern didn’t waver. Once inside the restroom, she turned to Jun-hee again. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”
Jun-hee hesitated before she said, “It’s okay.”
She turned and entered the cubicle. You couldn’t help but notice that Jun-hee seemed comfortable with you but kept a distance from player 149. Her earlier words played in your mind, and you figured she’d never experienced a mother’s love. Having someone act so caringly toward her must have felt strange, maybe even overwhelming. It was no surprise she’d pull away.
“Is she sick or something?” Hyun-ju asked lowly, glancing between you and the mother.
The mother stepped closer to her and whispered, “She’s pregnant.”
Hyun-ju’s jaw dropped, her gaze snapping to Jun-hee’s cubicle. The mother added, “I think she’s almost due.”
She then turned her attention to you. “Did you know?”
You nodded. “She told me and the others. We took her in instantly.”
The mother sighed, a look of relief crossing her face. “I’m glad. I can see you and the other guys have been taking good care of her.”
Her tone shifted, growing more urgent. “If you notice anything wrong with her, like she’s sick, unwell, or if her water breaks, please let me know. I’ve handled childbirths a few times in the past.”
You smiled warmly and nodded. “I will.”
The mother returned your smile, hers even warmer, before she headed into a nearby cubicle. You glanced at Hyun-ju, who was still staring at Jun-hee’s cubicle. Her expression was hard to read, but you couldn’t help but think she looked a little shocked, maybe even guilty. Perhaps the thought of voting for O, knowing there was a pregnant girl among the players, was weighing on her.
After finishing your business, you stepped out of the cubicle and noticed Hyun-ju at the sink, washing her hands and face. You joined her, standing side by side as you began to wash up as well.
The silence between you felt heavy, even though you were only inches apart. You wondered if she was distant because of her recent experiences after transitioning. It seemed like she only trusted the teammates she’d worked with during the Seven Legs Hexathlon. Maybe she was wary of you too.
Player 149 emerged from her cubicle and went to wash her hands. As she finished, her gaze shifted toward Jun-hee’s cubicle.
“Is she still in there?” she asked.
You and Hyun-ju both nodded. “Yeah.”
That’s when you realized Jun-hee had been in there for quite a while. Concern began to settle in. Stepping away from the sink, you watched as the mother approached the door and knocked gently.
“Miss? Are you alright?” she called. When there was no response, she knocked again, her tone growing more worried. “Are you okay in there? Is something wrong?”
You moved closer, your concern deepening. The mother pressed her ear against the door, listening carefully. Then you heard it. Faint sobs and quiet whimpers.
The mother slowly pushed the door open. From where you stood, you couldn’t see Jun-hee clearly, but the sound of her crying was unmistakable now that the door was ajar.
Player 149 hurried inside, her voice full of concern. “Oh dear. What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is your belly hurting?”
You stepped forward until you were standing just outside the door. Jun-hee sat on the toilet, her posture slumped. It seemed like she’d finished her business long ago but had stayed in the cubicle. Her quiet sobs tugged at your heart, and you frowned, deeply worried for her.
“Oh, no. Your baby must be coming,” the mother assumed, crouching in front of Jun-hee. She gently placed a hand on her belly while rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. “Listen, tell me where and how it hurts.”
Jun-hee kept her gaze fixed downward, her tears falling freely. Her pale face was flushed from crying, and she didn’t look up at the mother. Her voice came out in a broken whimper. “I’m scared…”
Your chest tightened at her words. You could tell this wasn’t about labor. She wasn’t due to give birth. She was terrified. For herself, for her unborn baby. The fear of dying in this game while carrying her child finally exploded the moment she got a moment of privacy.
The mother leaned forward, wrapping Jun-hee in a full embrace. Finally, Jun-hee gave in, leaning into her comfort, her sobs muffled against the mother’s shoulder. The older woman began consoling her softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Your heart warmed at the sight of Jun-hee finally giving in to the mother’s affection. You didn’t dare to intervene because she needed this. She needed a mother figure to soothe her fears and worries. Jun-hee might have never experienced a mother’s love before, but now she finally had it.
Aside from that, watching Jun-hee cry so openly, held tightly in the mother’s arms, stirred something deep within you. Your eyes began to brim with tears. The scene made you miss your own mother terribly. The longing to see your parents, to embrace them, overwhelmed you. The thought of being so close to never seeing them again, to never telling them everything you’d always wanted to say, hit you like a wave. And then there was Ji-yoo. Small and fragile, so much like Jun-hee.
If you die in this game, who will take care of Ji-yoo and your parents?
A tear slid down your cheek before you even noticed. You quickly wiped it away, hoping no one saw. From the corner of your eye, you caught Hyun-ju walking closer. She stopped a few steps away, her expression one of quiet astonishment as she watched the mother and Jun-hee.
Once Jun-hee had calmed down, her face still red and streaked with dried tears, she and the mother stepped out of the cubicle. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close to your chest. Her pregnant belly pressed gently against your abdomen.
Jun-hee accepted your embrace and began sobbing again, her quiet sniffles muffled against your shoulder. Beside you, the mother reached out, patting Jun-hee’s back and your shoulder in a soothing gesture.
“Everything will be okay,” you murmured softly, brushing Jun-hee’s hair with your fingers. “We’ll prioritize you no matter what. You have a mother here who’s so worried about you. You have me. And you have a bunch of caring uncles. We’ll protect you and your baby.”
Jun-hee sniffled, nodding slightly into your shoulder, her grip on you tightening as if to draw strength from your words.
The four of you exited the restroom together. You kept one arm around Jun-hee’s shoulders as you made your way back into the darkened dormitory. The mother walked alongside you while Hyun-ju lingered awkwardly behind. Her concern was evident but she was hesitant. She seemed unsure whether Jun-hee would accept comfort from her.
Gi-hun, still on watch, noticed you immediately. His wide, bewildered eyes followed your small group as he got up from his seat on the floor.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.
The mother rested a gentle hand on your back, helping guide you and Jun-hee toward your sleeping spot.
“It’s nothing,” she reassured him, her tone calm but firm. “The little lady here was just overwhelmed. But I’m sure you and the others will take good care of her.”
The mother stopped beside Gi-hun, her gaze following his as he watched Jun-hee. You helped Jun-hee lie down on her mattress, pulling her blanket up to her chest as she gently rested her hands on her belly. In a soothing voice, you told her, “Go to sleep, Jun-hee. Let’s do our best tomorrow.”
Jun-hee’s teary eyes met yours, and she nodded without speaking. Turning to her side, she closed her eyes, her breathing gradually evening out.
The mother nodded approvingly, placing a reassuring hand on Gi-hun’s back. She then said softly, “In that case, I’ll head back to bed now.”
She turned to you, her tone serious. “If anything happens to her, tell me immediately.”
You stood up from beside Jun-hee and stepped closer to the mother. Offering her a warm smile, you replied, “Yes, I will. Thank you for everything.”
“It’s nothing,” she said with a light wave of her hand. “Good night, then.”
You and Gi-hun nodded as she turned and walked toward her bed. Hyun-ju followed behind, likely because her spot was near the mother’s.
Gi-hun turned to you before he nodded to your spot and said calmly. “Go back to sleep. I’m still keeping watch.”
You nodded and settled onto your mattress, watching as Gi-hun returned to his spot, blocking the only path leading into your group's sleeping area. He sat with his back hunched a bit, his eyes focused on the darkened dormitory.
You were about to lie down when your gaze lingered on his back. Questions churned in your mind, ones you’d been wanting to ask but never found the right moment. His solemn, brooding demeanor had always made you hesitate.
But now, with the dormitory quiet and the others asleep, it felt like the perfect time to finally ask.
“Gi-hun,” you called softly, making sure to use his ssi honorific. He turned his head, glancing at you over his shoulder with a look of mild surprise, likely wondering why you weren’t asleep. Crawling off your mattress, you settled next to him, crossing your legs as you spoke. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
His solemn expression softened slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, what is it?”
You hugged your knees to your chest, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry if this brings up bad memories, but… what was your last time here like?”
Gi-hun’s eyes widened, and he stared at you, unblinking. He seemed caught off guard, as though the question had taken him somewhere he didn’t want to return to.
Trying to explain yourself, you added, “I want to know because… you seem very distant. Like you don’t want to be close to anyone here. But at the same time, you’re always trying to save everyone.”
He looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. His face took on a somber look that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you regretted asking. Quickly, you tried to backtrack. “Or… you don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious. Maybe you could just tell me what games you played here?”
Gi-hun stayed silent, and you couldn’t tell if he was sad or simply unwilling to answer. The weight of his unresponsiveness made you frown slightly, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest. Perhaps the bond you thought was forming wasn’t as strong as you’d hoped. Despite his offer to help with your debt, his walls were clearly still up.
Forcing a small smile, you turned your gaze forward and tried to lighten the mood. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Good night, Gi-hun.”
“I had a few friends here,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, surprised he’d decided to speak. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he continued, “When I was here last time, I made friends. We were a group. We ate dinner together. We got to know each other’s names. We tried to survive as a group.”
His voice grew quieter. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. This place makes you choose between yourself and everyone else. And no matter how much you want to protect someone, it’s never enough.”
He paused, taking a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself. “We played Red Light, Green Light first. Then Dalgona. After that, Tug of War, Marbles…”
His voice faltered, and his hands twitched slightly.
You waited, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. Finally, he added, “By the end, it was just me and one other person. He… he was my best friend. But the last game…”
Gi-hun trailed off, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the memories were playing out there in front of him. You waited, giving him the space to continue. After about ten seconds, he finally spoke again. “This place turns everyone into something they’re not. It doesn’t matter how strong your friendship is. The games are designed to break it.”
“You said everyone here died except you as the winner,” you pointed out cautiously. “But I thought you could leave with a share of the prize if the majority votes for X.”
“In my time playing here, there was no such thing as a voting process after each game,” Gi-hun explained, his tone steady but heavy. “We had the same Clause Three in the consent form, but if we left, we got nothing.”
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? You wouldn’t get a share if you left?”
Gi-hun turned to you, his expression serious as he nodded. “Yeah. After Red Light, Green Light, a lot of us voted to leave, and we did. But we got nothing. I was desperate, so I came back. Turned out, everyone else came back too.”
“So…” you stared off into space, processing his words. “They updated this game’s rules. Leaving with a share of the prize money is actually a new thing.”
Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And I have a feeling why the overseer of this game made that change.”
You leaned in slightly, curiosity burning in your chest. “Why?”
Gi-hun’s eyes flicked to the large TV screen above the double doors. “He wanted to prove to me that it’s not the games’ fault that the players die. It’s the players themselves. They’re the ones who choose to stay in this game, no matter how much they earn or how high the stakes get.”
Silence fell between you as his words sank in. The weight of his statements settled heavily in your mind, stirring even more questions. But you held them back, not wanting to push him further.
“Who is… the overseer of this game?” you asked carefully, your voice barely above a whisper.
Gi-hun kept his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. “The one who controls this game. I’m sure the guards call him Captain.”
“Gi-hun,” you pressed, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “How do you know so much?”
He turned to you, his solemn eyes meeting yours. “I came back here for a reason. I will do whatever it takes to prove to this ‘Captain’… that the world has changed.”
You blinked at him, taken aback by the weight of his words. “Have you met this Captain?”
“Not directly,” he replied, his voice growling with restrained fury. “But he saw us like horses. Trashes, he said. We are just mere trashes to him.”
You turned your gaze away, your stomach churning at the thought. That’s all you are to them? Trash? The word made you feel small and insignificant. But then you caught the faintest sigh from Gi-hun, and when you glanced back, he was already staring at you.
“What?” you asked curiously.
His features softened slightly, and you felt a faint warmth radiate from his expression. It was like watching a heavy storm give way to the first rays of sunlight, momentary but impactful. You tilted your head to the side and blinked your eyes innocently.
“You know,” he began, his tone less severe now, “you remind me of someone.”
Your curiosity piqued. “Who?”
He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory. “A friend I met in my previous game. His name was Ali. He was kind, selfless, smiling. And strong. I almost died on my first Red Light, Green Light.”
He stretched his right arm out, forming a fist as he demonstrated. “I tripped on a corpse and stumbled, but he held me up by my collar. We froze like that. If it weren’t for him, I would have died.”
You watched him silently, noticing how his face softened at the memory. There was a quiet warmth in his expression, a rare glimpse of something lighter amidst the darkness. He retracted his arm and rested his forearms back on his raised knees.
“He must have been a kind guy,” you said softly.
“One of the kindest I’ve ever met,” Gi-hun replied. “He trusted too easily, though.”
You tilted your head slightly in innocent curiosity. “Is that why I reminded you of him? Because I trust too easily?”
Gi-hun turned to look at you, a faint smile forming at the corners of his lips. “No. It’s because you’re all smiles and helpful, even in this dark place.”
He paused, his smile fading slightly as he added, “He didn’t make it. But he showed me that even in the darkest times, there’s room for kindness.”
His words struck a chord, and a smile naturally formed on your lips. His own smile widened. What you didn’t realize was how much you reminded him of himself – back when he was bright, optimistic, and full of hope. In you, he saw a glimpse of the person he used to be.
Unbeknownst to the two of you, another presence loomed in the shadows. From his sleeping spot under the bed, Young-il lay awake. He had heard every word as he remained utterly still. The soft hum of the dormitory masked his presence, leaving you and Gi-hun oblivious to the silent observer just a few spaces away.
“Now go to sleep,” Gi-hun urged, his smile fading slightly. “If you want to keep watch later, you’d better get enough rest beforehand.”
“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully as you turned and crawled back to your mattress. “Good night.”
Gi-hun let out a soft sigh, the kind that hinted at exhaustion or maybe a bit of awkwardness from acting friendly after being so solemn for so long. Still, he muttered, “Night.”
Settling onto your mattress, you pulled the blanket snugly to your chest. Out of habit, your gaze drifted to your left where Young-il lay. The small, single-bed-sized mattresses meant everyone was fairly close, but his presence felt especially near.
Young-il was lying straight on his back, his forearms resting on his abdomen, his eyes closed. Even in sleep, there was something about his posture that made him seem oddly alert. It was like he was always ready for something.
You quickly looked away, turning to lie on your side, your back now facing him. Shutting your eyes, you tried to quiet your thoughts and focus on falling asleep.
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A gentle shake stirred you from your sleep. A large hand rested lightly on your shoulder, nudging you awake. Then came a voice, calm and steady, calling your name:
“Sorry to disturb you, but if you’re too tired, it’s fine. I can cover your shift.”
You stirred, groaning softly as the sting of sleepiness hit you. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light. Turning your head, you saw Young-il kneeling beside your mattress, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. His gaze was calm but insistent, waiting for your response.
The fog of sleep clung to you, making it feel as though you’d been dragged out of a deep, comforting slumber. Your first thought was to tell him you were too exhausted to stay up. But then you remembered why you’d volunteered in the first place. What kind of person would you be if you backed out now?
Forcing yourself upright, you groggily rubbed your eyes, still struggling to shake off the weight of sleep. Young-il leaned back slightly, giving you space as your blanket slipped down to your thighs. You glanced around, trying to orient yourself. You then noticed Gi-hun already sleeping under the bed on your right side.
“Go back to sleep,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. Before you could respond, he grabbed your blanket and pulled it back up over your chest with an ease that felt strangely natural.
“I’ll handle your shift,” he continued. “And I’ll tell the others I didn’t wake you up on purpose.”
You shook your head groggily, your words coming out slow and slurred. “No… I want to keep watch.”
Young-il’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he didn’t argue immediately, simply watching as you fought against your sleepiness to fully wake up. He stepped back slightly and nodded. “Alright. You should wash your face first. That’ll help wake you up.”
You crawled off your mattress, moving to the spot where you had sat beside Gi-hun earlier. As you did, Young-il stood up to follow.
“It’s fine,” you said, rubbing your face to will yourself awake. “The triangle guard won’t let me into the bathroom.”
“I’m sure they will,” Young-il said, his tone calm but confident. You glanced at him, curious about his certainty. Had he been to the men’s restroom at night without any trouble? The last time you went with Jun-hee, the mother, and Hyun-ju, the guard only let you pass because of the mother’s relentless cries.
Massaging your face, you muttered, “I already went earlier with Jun-hee. The guard won’t let me pass twice.”
“They will,” Young-il said again. “Come with me.”
Before you could protest, he straightened and walked toward the middle of the dormitory’s clear area. You watched him, confused, before finally pushing yourself to follow.
“I said it’s fine,” you drawled, catching up to him. “I don’t want to deal with the guard again.”
Young-il didn’t respond. He continued toward the door to the women’s restroom, stopping in front of it and waiting for you to join him. When you finally reached his side, you sighed and said, making sure to use his ssi honorific, “Young-il, if the guard denies us, let’s just go back.”
He knocked firmly on the door. At first, there was no response, just like the last time with Jun-hee. He knocked again. After a moment, the circular window slid open, revealing the expressionless mask of a triangle guard.
“She needs to use the restroom,” Young-il said evenly. “Let her in.”
The triangle guard didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you both, the silence stretching uncomfortably in the dim dormitory.
A few seconds later, the triangle guard slid the window shut without a word. Young-il turned to you and gave a small nod, a silent gesture to wait. You couldn’t hide your confusion. Why didn’t the guard deny you outright like before? You thought.
A few seconds passed, feeling much longer in the tense quiet, before the door creaked open. The triangle guard stood there, flanked by two more guards holding their guns. Young-il glanced at you, his expression calm but firm.
“Go,” he said simply. “I’ll keep watch for you.”
You hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside. As you moved past the guards, just before heading further in, Young-il’s voice came again and this time, it sounded commanding. “Guard her.”
You turned to look over your shoulder, catching the way he stared intently at the two triangle guards stationed near you. His tone carried weight, as though he wasn’t just making a request but giving an order. You furrowed your brows in mild confusion, unsure why he did that out of the blue.
One of the guards turned without a word and started walking ahead, motioning for you to follow. The second guard remained behind you, positioning themselves to ensure you were completely covered on both sides.
Perplexed, you trailed the lead guard. The door shut firmly behind you, leaving Young-il outside as the two guards guided you deeper into the women’s restroom.
After finishing your business and splashing cold water on your face at the sink, you exited the bathroom. As before, the two triangle guards flanked you, one leading and the other following closely behind. Their silent presence felt heavy, yet you felt the most protected person in this place. When you reached the dormitory, the same guard who had let you in earlier opened the door for you, stepping aside as you walked back in alone. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint hum of the dormitory’s dim atmosphere returned.
You made your way back, spotting Young-il sitting in the only path to your group’s sleeping spot. His gaze was already fixed on you. You lowered yourself onto the spot beside him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them to make yourself comfortable.
“If I’d known the guards wouldn’t deny you bathroom access earlier, I would have woken you up,” you said, glancing at Young-il. “When Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and I went earlier, the guards denied us entry. Twice.”
Young-il’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his expression attentive as you continued, lowering your voice, “The mother had to yell, ‘What did I do in my previous life?’ to finally make them let us in.”
A soft laugh escaped Young-il, his shoulders shaking slightly at your recount.
“At least it worked in the end,” he replied, his tone light. “But if you or the others ever need to go at times like this, wake me up. I’ll handle it.”
You offered him a small, sincere smile. “I will. Thank you.”
But then your smile faltered, and you averted your gaze. “Hopefully, this morning will be the last game. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
Young-il nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked away. “You’re right. Let’s stay together, win again, and hope the majority votes to leave next time.”
You nodded in agreement. “I hope so too.”
The conversation tapered off, leaving a stillness between you. The air seemed thick with things unsaid between you two. It felt as though any words spoken now would either break the tension or make it worse.
You exhaled softly, stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated faintly by the golden glow of the piggy bank above, highlighting his composed expression. You turned your gaze back to the floor, trying to quiet your mind as the dormitory settled into its uneasy rhythm.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you. Your gaze shifted toward him, and your eyes met. He gave you a small smile, but then his eyes briefly dropped to your lips before he quickly looked away, fixing his focus on the floor.
The silence between you stretched for a moment before he spoke. “You must be surprised.”
You raised your eyebrows. “What?”
He lifted his gaze to meet yours again. The close proximity made the exchange feel heavier, almost intimate.
“About what Gi-hun said. About my wife,” he clarified. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Oh, this topic.
You forced a smile and shook your head lightly. “Oh, it’s fine. I kind of assumed you were married already. You’re kind and mature, so it made sense. Turns out I was right.”
Young-il’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable. You kept your eyes on him, watching closely. His reaction told you everything you needed to know. So it was true. He has a wife waiting for him at the hospital, you thought. The confirmation solidified your earlier decision: distancing yourself from him was the right choice. It was for the best.
“She was sick,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made you hold your breath. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he continued, “Acute cirrhosis. She needed a liver transplant, but we found out she was pregnant.”
Your eyes widened, and your face fell as his words sank in. He kept going, his tone growing heavier. “When the doctor suggested terminating the pregnancy, she refused. She was stubborn… She wanted to have the baby, even if it meant risking her life.”
You stayed silent, letting his words wash over you, as he went on. “When her condition worsened and no donor appeared, I borrowed as much money as I could to find a solution. But it was not enough.”
You turned your gaze away, unsure what to say. His voice softened but didn’t lose its seriousness. “I was desperate. A criminal heard about my situation and offered me money. I borrowed from him. But my work found out and saw it as a bribe. They fired me. I’d devoted my whole life to that job. It was one of the few things I truly loved.”
You frowned deeply, feeling an ache in your chest for him.
“Then I was invited to a program,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “It promised money, so I joined. I was gone for a few days. By the time I won… by the time I came back with billions, my wife was already dead.”
Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to him, struggling to process his words. That’s when you noticed his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. They never fell, but the weight of them was undeniable.
“I have no purpose in life after the death of my wife,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “I disappeared from everything I once knew. There were so many times I became angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the people who fired me. Angry at those who didn’t step up to donate a liver. Angry at myself for leaving her when she needed me the most. Angry at everything.”
The room felt heavier with every word he spoke. You listened intently, unable to look away as he continued.
“There were times I wanted to end it all,” he admitted, his tone raw with emotion. “But I knew… I knew if I did, she’d hate me for it. She’d drag me to hell herself if it meant making me pay for giving up. So I lived. Barely. I was just a husk of a man, wearing a human skin that didn’t fit anymore.”
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Eventually, I made a choice. I decided to go back to the program that gave me those useless billions. The place where I last had purpose in life.”
The realization hit you like a crashing wave. Everything he had said suddenly clicked in your mind. You stared at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Correct me if I’m wrong… but is that program… this game?”
Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. The tears in his eyes caught the dim light, making them shimmer as he gave a single, solemn nod.
You gawked at him, thunderstruck. The implications swirled in your head, one question louder than the rest: So he was a previous winner? Just like Gi-hun? A winner who came back to play again?
“I was a winner of this game in the year 2015,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. His voice was steady but carried a note of vulnerability. “I didn’t tell Gi-hun. I never told anyone this. I don't want to be seen as the winner or a hero. All I want is to do these games and… find the slightest bit of purpose in life.”
You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. In a soft tone, you murmured, “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.”
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Life has a way of… pushing you into corners you didn’t even know existed.”
You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Still, what you’ve endured… it’s more than anyone should bear.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet… in these games, I found something.”
You tilted your head slightly, curiosity building in your chest. You did not have to say anything. Your need to know was palpable on your face.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.
“A purpose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart thudded against your ribs as he continued, “I thought it was impossible. That after everything I’ve been through, after losing my wife, I’d never feel it again. But now…”
He paused, and for a moment, you were certain the air between you had shifted. “I’ve found something worth protecting in this world.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the way he stared at you said more than words ever could. His gaze lingered, carrying an unspoken weight that sent warmth creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. The realization struck you like a soft wave.
He meant you.
But then, you looked away. You didn’t want to misinterpret his kind gestures or sweet words as something deeper. If he truly meant more, you wanted him to say it outright.
“Young-il,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you… if you mean what I think you mean, you’d have to tell me. I can’t just assume.”
He shifted closer, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you… not just as a friend, but as something more.”
Your breath hitched, and you dared to meet his gaze. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only gentleness that made you turn vulnerable.
“I know,” he continued, “that this place is hell. It’s not the kind of place anyone should be finding hope. But you… you’ve brought hope. Hope that the world has given me a gift.”
You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “Young-il…”
“I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give,” he interrupted softly. “But let me protect you. Not because we’re stuck in this place, but because… I care about you.”
His confession lingered between you, sounding heavy and raw. A part of you wanted to push him away, to insist that the circumstances were too dire for anything like this. But another part of you, the one that had felt the flutter in your chest every time he spoke to you or looked your way, wanted to believe him.
“It’s sad,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly, “that we met in a place like this.”
His lips curved into a faint smile. “It is. But if it weren’t for this place, I would have never met you.”
You smiled, a faint blush creeping to your cheeks. “I suppose that’s one good thing about all this.”
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away. You couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of happiness. In this moment, you were glad. Glad that he had trusted you enough to let his guard down. Glad that he had let you see the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else. Glad that he had taken off his last mask… right?
He turned his eyes back to you, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You didn’t look away, meeting his stare head-on, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. His eyes flickered down briefly, landing on your lips. Without thinking, your gaze followed suit, lingering on his for a moment too long.
The air felt charged, the space between you shrinking without either of you moving too much. Slowly, he leaned in. You did the same, your heart pounding louder with each inch you crossed.
“Please, don’t.”
Both of you flinched, the trance broken by a muffled voice. Turning quickly, you spotted Jung-bae sprawled out on his mattress, muttering in his sleep.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll stop betting on horses,” he mumbled, his face scrunched in a dream-induced grimace.
The sheer absurdity of the interruption had you stifling a laugh. Your shoulders shook with quiet amusement as you looked away.
Unbeknownst to you, Young-il’s expression darkened as he glared at the sleeping man, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across his face.
Then your laughter reached his ears, breaking the tension in the most unexpected way. Young-il turned back to you, his features relaxing as a chuckle bubbled out of him.
“Talk about timing,” he said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with humor.
“Impeccable,” you replied, your grin widening as you stole another glance at Jung-bae, who remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.
The near-kiss moment replayed in your mind, your cheeks growing warmer each time the memory surfaced. You looked away, staring anywhere except Young-il. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him, afraid he might notice the blush creeping up your face. The more you thought about it, the more embarrassed you became.
Without realizing it, you yawned softly, breaking your train of thought. The sleepiness hit you suddenly, but you tried to brush it off. Young-il, however, noticed immediately.
“You should go to sleep,” he said gently.
You glanced at him, flustered, and shook your head. “What? I’m not tired.”
Young-il tilted his head slightly, giving you a knowing look. “You’re not fooling anyone. You should rest. There’s no point in keeping watch if you’re barely awake.”
“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, trying to sound convincing. “I already washed my face.”
But Young-il wasn’t buying it. “Washing your face doesn’t mean you are not tired. Go rest. I’ll do it.”
You opened your mouth to argue again, but his steady gaze and calm persistence left you struggling for words.
“But… I don’t want you to cover my shift,” you murmured.
“I actually don��t want you to keep watch,” he admitted softly. “I woke you up so I could explain about my late wife. We don’t have much privacy so I thought keeping watch with you will be the perfect time to tell you.”
Before you could ask anything, Young-il reached out with his left hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The simple gesture sent your heart racing, and your blush deepened. The touch was fleeting, but it left you momentarily speechless.
Feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze, you nodded shyly and crawled back to your mattress. As you pulled the blanket over yourself, you could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch. You couldn’t help but smile in delight, though you tried to hide it from him.
As soon as your head hit the pillow, a wave of exhaustion swept over you. Slowly, your eyes began to close, and the world around you blurred. This time, though, there was a warmth in your chest. A small smile formed on your lips as sleep claimed you, wrapping you in its gentle embrace.
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NEXT : Chapter 10
PREV : Chapter 08
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Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! What do you think about you consoling Jun-hee, your talk with Gi-hun, the fact that Young-il was listening the whole time, then Young-il helped you go to the restroom. Next it was his turn to talk with you, and also about Jung-bae's impeccable timing. What do you think about these?
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aeralux · 2 days ago
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"Close To You" - Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark
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Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader & Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader
Summary: It has been too long since you last saw your dear twin brother, Jacaerys, after becoming Lady Stark of Winterfell. Surprisingly, your husband has no qualms about sharing his beautiful lady wife with her twin brother. As long as Jacaerys knows that it is still he, who brings his beloved wife the best pleasure she has ever experienced.
Warnings: SMUT 18+; Targaryen twincest; oral (m and f receiving); male masturbation; voyeurism; technically infidelity (but Cregan is fine with it cause it's Jacaerys); doggy style (again, yes. I'm sorry, but it fit the plot); foul language; threesome
Words: 11k
Notes: No use of (y/n) and no description of the reader. If you do not agree with the warnings, DO NOT read. I'm not responsible for the content you consume.
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It was late, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the ancient stone walls of Winterfell, and your muscles ached. Your husband had once again taken you to heights of passion that left you breathless. The Stark men were known for their virility, a reputation that Cregan carried with pride. Though you had entered this union with apprehension, you found comfort in knowing Cregan Stark was a man of great honour and nobility. What was there not to admire?
Yet, despite the warmth that enveloped you in your new life, a deep ache resided in your heart. You yearned for your beloved twin, Jacaerys, with whom you had shared every joy and sorrow since birth. Until the fateful discussions of your betrothal began, you had envisioned a future where you would never be parted from him. But those dreams had been cruelly shattered beneath the weight of duty and expectation. Still, Jace’s assurances echoed in your mind; he had promised Cregan was worthy of your love, and you knew his praises were not spoken lightly.
Now, six moons had passed since you had left the warmth of Dragonstone to embrace your role as Lady of Winterfell, where the chill of the North wrapped around you like a second skin. The transition had been harsh yet strangely welcome. Your husband, with his quiet strength and reliable presence, had ensured your comfort in every conceivable way. He listened to your hopes and dreams and wrapped you in a love that had begun to soothe your loss. Each shared smile and soft caress deepened your bond. Cregan made sure that you were thoroughly satisfied in your marriage.
Your husband carefully freed himself from your warm embrace, placing a tender kiss upon your forehead—a fleeting touch, but one that spoke volumes of his affection. As he strode through the ancient halls of Winterfell, the flickering torchlight casting shadows upon the stone walls, he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. His keen eyes soon landed upon Jacaerys, who had only arrived two days prior, and his eagerness to be near his beloved sister was evident in the way he fidgeted.
With a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Cregan approached the young prince, claiming a seat on the plush, well-worn sofa before the hearth, where the flames danced, spreading warmth throughout the cold hall. “How are you faring in the North, my prince?” his deep voice resonated, breaking through the heavy silence that enveloped them.
Jacaerys looked up, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. “You have shown much hospitality, and I am grateful for that. My sister seems to flourish in the northern air,” he replied, his tone a mindful balance of politeness and reserve.
Cregan chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the fire as it crackled. “She does indeed find joy here,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “You know my affection for her runs deep. I do everything within my power to ensure her happiness.” The taunting light in his eyes betrayed the amusement he found in Jacaerys’ discomfort, fully aware of the peculiar customs that governed the Targaryens—a family known for their fierce loyalty and their tangled web of desires.
Before allowing Jacaerys to respond, Cregan took another measured sip from his glass, swirling the amber liquid within. His voice held an ominous weight as he spoke, "I overheard you yesterday. Pleasuring my lady wife..." He let the words hang in the air, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of the chamber.
Jacaerys’ heart dropped as he met Cregan’s steady gaze, shock and dread mingling on his face. The Lord of Winterfell was a mountain of a man, both in stature and presence, no stranger to battles. The very spirit of the North. “Cregan…I’m—”
Cregan cut him off with a low chuckle, his voice gravelly. “No need to apologize. I suspected as much.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I knew she was no maiden when I first claimed her. She spilt no blood and seemed all too familiar with passions—her cries echoed through the halls, begging for more.” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes as memories of their wedding night stirred within him, the warmth of it all washing over him.
Jacaerys stared at Cregan, bewilderment etched across his features. How could the man sit there, so unbothered by the knowledge that he had bedded the very woman he now claimed as his own?
“But!” The laughter drained from Cregan’s voice, replaced by a steely seriousness. “Remember, she is my lady, my wife, and she is to bear my heirs. A Stark must always remain in Winterfell.” The warning was clear, the kind of warning that came from a man who had carved his place in the world with blood and honour.
As silence enveloped them, Jacaerys began to gather his fractured thoughts, the weight of his intentions pressing heavily upon him. “Of course. She drank Moon Tea right away. I brought some with me,” he stammered, unwittingly revealing the purpose that had guided his way to Winterfell.
“Ah, so you did spill your seed in her womb,” Cregan mused, narrowing his eyes as if calculating the implications of the prince’s words. "Can’t say I’m surprised. After all, she was yours first, wasn’t she?” His voice had a teasing tone, reminding them that amidst the tension, their fates were still closely linked.
Jacaerys sat with his head bowed, shame flooding through him like cold water. Cregan, once a trusted ally and now a close friend, had become a victim of his actions. The weight of betrayal pressed heavily on his heart. "I did not mean to betray you in this manner, my good Lord," he admitted, his voice steady yet laced with regret. His brown eyes, usually bright, were now shadowed with sincerity. "It is difficult to resist a beauty like her." He cast his gaze downward again, seeking some semblance of justification for his actions.
Cregan leaned back in his chair, a bemused smirk creeping across his lips. "Tell me then... what did you do to her?" The words rolled off his tongue teasingly, lightening the heavy air between them. He leaned back comfortably, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Come on, indulge me," he urged, curiosity piqued. To anyone else, his fascination might seem perverse. Still, to Cregan, such matters were mere threads in the intricacy of life. After all, Jacaerys’s actions were but a common act in your ancient bloodline. And deep down, they both knew you were Cregan's now. And no man or God could take you away from him.
Jacaerys squirmed uncomfortably under Cregan's penetrating gaze, a flush of guilt and shame creeping up his neck as he recalled last night's activities. "I... I pleased her, of course," he began hesitantly, unsure how much detail Cregan wished to hear. "My mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her soft skin, my fingers delving into secret places to draw out her sweet cries." He paused, swallowing hard at the recollection.
Jacaerys let out a low groan as your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your waist possessively. He captured your lips in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring all his pent-up longing and desire into the embrace.
"Mine," he mumbled against your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim you thoroughly. His hands slid down to grasp your rear, squeezing the firm globes as he pressed your body flush against his own.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His beard rasped deliciously against your flesh, leaving faint red marks.
"I've wanted this... wanted you... for so long," Jacaerys panted, his voice rough with lust. "To touch you, taste you, feel your naked skin against mine again..."
He pushed the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, exposing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. Cupping your breasts, he kneaded the soft bosom, thumbs circling your hardening peaks through the thin fabric.
"I'm going to worship every inch of you," Jacaerys promised darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked intent in the moonlight.
"Then... then I slowly undressed her, baring her skin to my hungry gaze. I caressed every curve, marvelling at the softness of her flesh." Jacaerys' breathing grew heavy and uneven, both from embarrassment and ardour. 
"I took my time, wanting to savour every moment of our union."
Jacaerys growled low in his throat as your hands explored his body with such desperate hunger. He quickly shed the remainder of his clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor until he was bare before you, his manhood standing proud and erect.
"Greedy girl," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he pushed you back onto the bed, settling his weight between your spread thighs.
He hooked his fingers in your nightgown and practically ripped it off, baring your naked body to his heated gaze. His calloused hand cupped your sex, one long finger delving between your slick folds to stroke your sensitive, aching flesh.
"You are so wet," Jacaerys moaned, his finger sliding deep inside you, curling to stroke that special spot within. "So ready for your brother'..."
He added another finger, pumping them in and out of your clenching heat as his thumb rubbed firm circles around your pearl. Leaning down, he captured one stiff nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.
The prince took a shuddering breath, steeling himself to continue. "I laid her down on the bed. I needed to taste her sweetness." He could feel the heat rising in his body as he spoke, arousal stirring once more at the mere memory of your joining.
Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way down your body, his tongue and lips exploring every dip and curve with agonizing slowness.
"Patience, little sister," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I'm going to take my time with you, make you beg so sweetly."
He paused to lave his tongue around your navel before continuing his descent, settling between your splayed thighs. He could smell your arousal, and see your swollen, glistening folds just inches from his face. Jacaerys licked his lips in anticipation.
"Such a pretty little cunt," he praised, running a finger through your dripping slit. "Missed your sweet cunny so much."
Without warning, he buried his face between your thighs, sealing his mouth over your sex in a deep, intimate kiss. His tongue delved between your folds, stroking and probing your most sensitive flesh as he licked up your essence.
Cregan listened intently, a flicker of amusement dancing in his grey eyes as Jacaerys recounted the intimate details of his tryst with you. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the very picture of a man engaged and intrigued. A wicked grin spread across his rugged features as yesterday's events replayed themselves in his mind's eye.
Cregan had just finished his nightly duties and was about to retire to his chambers when he heard the unmistakable sounds of passion spill out from the private chambers of his new bride. Brow furrowed, he crept closer, pressing an ear to the heavy wooden door.
What he heard made his blood run cold. The wet, obscene sucking sounds, the breathy moans and wanton cries that could only belong to one woman - his pretty wife. And the low, rough groans and filthy words of encouragement - unmistakably the voice of Jacaerys Velaryon.
Cregan listened intently from the doorway, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in every lewd sound and wanton moan spilling from your lips. He could hear the wet, vulgar squelches of Jacaerys' fingers plunging into your dripping cunt.
Cregan's manhood swelled and strained against his breeches as he listened to his brother-in-law worship his wife with such eagerness. He knew all too well the taste of your honeyed essence on his tongue, the feel of your velvety walls gripping him tightly as he fucked you hard and deep.
Nothing Jacaerys did could compare to how Cregan took you, could it? He knew you screamed the loudest, the longest when Cregan split you open on his massive length and pounded you into the bed until you saw stars.
Still, Cregan couldn't deny the eroticism of the scene happening behind the door - his little wife, flushed and writhing in pleasure, begging for your own brother's cock like the desperate slut you were.
"Aye, I've seen the way her body responds to my touch," Cregan murmured, a note of pride in his deep voice. "The way her nipples harden beneath my fingers, like ripe berries begging to be plucked." He chuckled softly, lost momentarily in the memory of your soft gasps and breathy moans.
"The way she arches into me, seeking more, always more." Cregan's lips curled into a smirk. "She's a passionate creature, your sister. It's no surprise she craves the touch of a man."
He sipped his whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. "Tell me, did she ride you with the same fervour shedoes me?" Cregan asked, a challenging glint in his eye. "Did she sink onto your cock with the same eager cries and lustful abandon?"
"I've had her in every room of Winterfell," he boasted a hint of pride in his tone. "On the great table in the banquet hall, bent over the balcony overlooking the godswood, even in the openness of the training yard, not caring who saw her lost in the throes of passion."
Cregan's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Did she scream your name as she came undone on your cock, or did she remain silent, saving her cries for when she's with me?" The lord smiled wolfishly, clearly enjoying the taboo conversation.
"She's a wild little thing in the bedchamber," Cregan smirked, "full of untamed passion and desire." He set his glass down with a thud, the alcohol no doubt fueling his bold directness.
Jacaerys met Cregan's challenging gaze with a smirk of his own, not to be outdone by the Lord of Winterfell's brazen boasting. "Ah, but did you hear her scream your name like a prayer to the gods when she found her release?" the prince retorted, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. "I assure you, my technique is... unparalleled."
He leaned forward, mirroring Cregan's posture, the air charged with camaraderie rather than hostility. "Perhaps it was how I worshipped her body with reverence, like a man honouring a goddess," Jacaerys continued, his voice low and teasing.
Despite the smirk on his lips, there was no genuine malice in Jacaerys' words, only a playful ribbing between two men who had come to know each other intimately through their shared bond with you. Cregan's chest rumbled with laughter, a sound of genuine amusement rather than anger.
"Is that so?" Cregan chuckled, taking another swig of his whiskey. "Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that account. After all, I've seen how she melts against me, her body moulding to mine like she was made for me alone."
With a final, winning grin and a clap on Jacaerys' shoulder, Cregan stood up from his chair, finishing the last of his whiskey in one long, appreciative gulp. He set the empty glass down on the side table with a soft clink, straightened his tunic and stepped away from the hearth.
"My lady wife awaits," Cregan rumbled, a note of anticipation in his deep voice. "It seems your sister's passion is not so easily sated, even after a night of lover's embraces." He smirked in a self-assured, almost smug manner, well aware of his role in stoking the flames of your desire.
Cregan flicked his gaze back to the fire before turning to leave. The warmth of the flames faded as he stepped out into the chill of the castle halls, his long strides ate up the distance to the bed chambers he shared with his new bride, each step filled with purpose and growing hunger.
As he entered the room, the soft glow of candlelight and the welcoming heat of the hearth illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the furs and silken sheets.
He took off his clothes methodically, folding his tunic and breeches and setting them aside with a carelessness that spoke of utter ease in his surroundings. Then, clad in nothing but his small clothes, Cregan approached the bed, his grey eyes glinting with a predatory light.
As much as his body ached for yours, Cregan knew that rushing headlong into their coupling would not serve either of them. No, he would take his time, would worship your body with the reverence and attention it deserved... even if the young prince had attempted to lay claim to your heart many times before your wedding day and the night before.
"Did you miss me, my lady?" Cregan asked, his voice a low rumble as he slid beneath the covers beside her. "Or were you still lost in the memory of your beloved twin's touch?" He allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth, knowing that no matter what pleasure Jacaerys had given you, it could not compare to the devotion and love Cregan held for you.
You stirred from your slumber, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as you noticed the empty space beside you on the bed. A soft, sleepy groan escaped your lips as your gaze drifted to your husband's larger form looming above you in the dark room.
"Mmh..." you mumbled incoherently, your voice thick with drowsy confusion. "Why aren't you next to me, Cregan?" you whined poutily, reaching out a hand to caress the empty sheets beside you.
Cregan felt a flicker of amusement stir within him at the playful, pouty tone lacing your voice. He lowered himself slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your furrowed brow, determined to smooth the wrinkle upon your delicate features.
"Did you truly miss me that much, sweetling?" he teased, his deep voice wrapped in an affection that warmed the air between you. His gaze, intense yet tender, bore into yours as he reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, trailing along the delicate curve of your jaw—a gentle touch that felt reassuring and intimate.
"I'm here now," he continued, the gravity of his tone momentarily giving way to a playful smirk. I had to see to some matters with your brother." The corners of his mouth twitched as memories of his conversation with Jacaerys flickered, a brief lustful glimmer lighting his eyes. The air around you seemed to hold a charged silence, filled with the unspoken bond you had developed.
You blinked at Cregan, your sleepy eyes widening as his words sank in. Your brother's name slipped off your tongue in a drowsy murmur. "Jacaerys?" you asked, leaning into his warm touch instinctively as you tried to shake the last remnants of sleep from your mind. "What matters did you have to discuss with him?" As you spoke, you sat up slowly in the bed, the sheets slipping down to pool around your waist.
Cregan's gaze drifted over your newly exposed skin as you sat up, taking in the way the candlelight danced across your shoulders and the gentle swell of your breasts. He felt a familiar stirring within him, a building heat. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you, his large frame dwarfing yours.
"He spoke of the night you shared," Cregan admitted, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Of the way he touched you, worshipped you..." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "As if I didn't already know how sweetly you yield to a lover's caress."
Your heart raced as Cregan's words sank in, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the mention of your secret tryst with Jacaerys. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, and hear the echoes of your stolen whispers and soft moans lingering in the candlelit bedroom.
Cregan's hands slid down to rest on your waist, his fingers splaying across the dip of your hips. He pulled you closer until your bare breasts pressed against his chest, the soft mounds moulding to the hard planes of his body like they were madefor him alone.
Cregan's hands slid higher, skimming over the curve of your ribcage until they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He kneaded the tender flesh, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.
"Tell me, my dear," Cregan murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, "who do you think can bring you more pleasure? Your dear brother... or your husband?"
Your breath hitched as Cregan's strong hands caressed your sensitive skin, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. You found yourself arching into him instinctively, craving more of his electrifying touch.
"Cregan..." you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly as you gazed up at him through your long lashes. "My brother's touches are gentle, almost reverent... like the soft petals of a rose," you explained, your fingers splaying across the firm expanse of his chest.
"But you..." you continued, your pulse quickening as you leaned into him, your lips a mere breath away from his. "You bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed. Each time we join, it's as if the Gods have smiled upon me, blessing our union."
A fierce blush crept up your neck and painted your cheeks a rosy hue as you admitted, "I find myself to rather enjoy your... more forceful ways of loving me. The way you claim my body, it drives me to the very brink of madness..." you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.
Cregan felt a surge of primal male satisfaction at your breathless confession, his heartbeat quickening with the knowledge of the effect he had on you. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you flush against him, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh.
"Is that so?" Cregan growled, a wicked gleam in his grey eyes as he drank in your flushed, wanton expression. "Then allow me to remind you just how thoroughly you belong to me..." 
With that, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep. One hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist as he rolled his hips into yours, grinding his hard length against your core.
Cregan's other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he bit down gently, marking you as his.
"Mine," Cregan rumbled against your skin, his voice heavy with desire and possession. "You are mine, now and forever. I will have you screaming my name until there is no doubt who you belong to."
To emphasize his point, Cregan slid a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick heat. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his digits sliding through your folds with ease. "So wet for me already, love..." he purred, circling your sensitive pearl with maddening precision. "Tell me, who makes you burn like this? Who sets your body ablaze with need?"
"Oh gods, Cregan..." you whimpered breathlessly, your back arching as jolts of electric pleasure coursing through your body. Gasps and needy whines spilt from your lips, your fingers curling into his firm muscles. 
"Fuck," you panted, instinctively rolling your hips against his fingers, seeking more of that friction. "It's you, Cregan. Now fuck me like you mean it," you demanded, your dragon showing its scales.
A low, approving growl rumbled in Cregan's chest as he felt your body come alive beneath his touch, your demands stoking the flames of his desire. Without hesitation, he flipped you onto your stomach, pushing you down into the plush bedding. He straddled your hips, pinning you in place with his large frame.
He touched you in a way that awakened a carnal desire you had never known before him. You craved his dominance, the way he could bend you to his will with a mere touch or a whispered command.
"As my lady commands," Cregan purred darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. His calloused hands slid around to grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh roughly. He slipped a hand beneath your hip, pushing it up and out until your rear was raised and presented to him.
"You have a magnificent ass," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble as he delivered a sharp slap to one cheek, making you let out a quiet whine in response.
Cregan flipped up your nightgown, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air of the bedroom. He could see the glistening folds of your pussy, the way your arousal clung to your outer lips. Unable to resist, Cregan reached out, delivering another sudden, sharp smack to your rear. The sound of skin connecting with skin filled the candlelit room, followed by a reddening handprint blooming across your tender flesh. You gasped at the unexpected contact, back arching as a sensation raced through you.
Your body trembled with need, as you arched your back, presenting yourself to your husband. Teasing him with the tantalizing curve of your rear, you breathed out your plea.
"Again," you whimpered, biting your lip coyly as you gazed back at him over your shoulder. "Please Cregan, spank me again."
"Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cregan purred, landing a sharp spank on your ass. The sound echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp. "Demanding your husband fuck you like a she-wolf in a rut." He spanked you again, watching the supple flesh jiggle enticingly.
You arched your back, a throaty moan escaping your lips as Cregan's strong hand connected with the supple curve of your ass. "Mmh!" Your body shuddered in response to the sudden jolt of sensation, a tingling warmth spreading across your skin. "Yes!" You cried out, your hair swaying with the force of his slap. "Please Cregan, more."
Trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, you pushed your rear up higher, unconsciously offering yourself to him. Presenting the round, perky cheeks of your butt for his punishment. "I need... I need you." you breathed out, your voice ragged with arousal.
Cregan let out a deep, approving growl at your wanton display, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the erotic sight of your arched back and raised rear. His calloused hand continued to rain down sharp slaps across the supple globes, watching in satisfaction as they jiggled and reddened beneath his touch.
"Such a needy little minx, begging so sweetly for your husband's cock," Cregan rumbled, delivering another stinging blow. His other hand slid between your thighs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. "So wet and ready, just from rough handling." He circled your clit with a teasing finger, feeling it swell and throb against his touch.
Cregan leaned down, dragging his tongue along the curve of your spine, tasting the salt of your skin. Slowly he pushed a long finger inside your tight heat, pumping it, relishing the way your walls clenched around the intrusion. "Tell me, sweetling, who makes this sweet cunt weep with need?" He added a second finger, thrusting deeper, harder.
"Oh gods, you Cregan!" you gasped. Pleasure sparked through you at his touch, your slick walls clenching greedily around the digits plunging in and out.
But you couldn't resist stirring his jealous nature, even in your heightened state. "And Jace... oh fuck, the way he touched me, it was... it was incredible." you moaned, dragging out your brother's name.
You knew Cregan would punish you for that, for even mentioning your brother's name while he had you like this. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your heart racing in your chest.
Cregan's jaw clenched at your brother's name falling from your lips, a surge of jealousy and possession flaring within him. He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving your aching cunny empty and wanting.
"Jace, is it?" Cregan growled, his voice a low rumble filled with dark promise. "Let me show you the difference between a prince's tender loving and a man's hungry lust."
He pushed your thighs further apart, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.
You threw your head back as a throaty scream tore from your throat. The lewd, obscene slurping sounds of Cregan's hungry mouth devouring your dripping sex filled the room, mingling with your wanton cries of ecstasy.
"Oh gods, yes!" you keened, fingers scrabbling at the sheets beneath you as jolts of pleasure coursed through your veins. "Don't stop!"
Your heart raced, pounding against your ribs as you pushed your hips back shamelessly. The depraved act only fueled the fire burning in your core, clear juices of your arousal dripping down your trembling thighs.
"Fuck, Cregan!" you panted, your voice ragged and breathless.
Cregan latched his mouth onto your cunny, his tongue delving between your slick folds to lap at your essence. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he feasted on your dripping cunt like a starving man. His tongue circled your clit, flicked over it, and suckled on it greedily as his lips and mouth worked tirelessly to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.
His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling your ass back against his face as he licked and sucked and devoured you like a starving man. The obscene sounds of his greed filled the room, mingling with your shameless screams of ecstasy.
Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your flushed cheeks, your hair in a wild mess. Drool dribbled from the corner of your slack mouth, your jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Cregan's skilful tongue and lips devoured your most intimate places with a hunger, reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess.
At that moment, you knew with absolute certainty that not even the most skilled harlots could compare to you at this moment.
Cregan continued his relentless assault, spurred on by your screams and the knowledge that he was reducing you to this pleading mess. He could feel your body tensing, your thighs quaking against his head as your climax approached.
"Not... not yet, love," Cregan commanded, pulling back just long enough to growl the words against your slick flesh. The loss of his mouth on your cunny makes you whine pathetically.
As Cregan's skilled mouth continued to work its magic, consumed by a primal hunger as he devoured his bride's dripping sex, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the torchlit corridor outside their bedchamber. Unbeknownst to the lost-in-passion couple, Jacaerys had been making his way back to his chambers after his discussion with Cregan.
However, the prince's steps faltered as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his sister's ecstasy spilling out from behind the heavy oak door. Your screams of "Fuck, Cregan!" and the wet, obscene noises of a man feasting on a woman's most intimate place brought him up short. For a moment, he stood there, heart pounding, as he listened to the lewd symphony playing out mere feet away.
"Oh gods, yes!" he heard you cry out, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Don't stop!"
A surge of jealous fury flooded Jacaerys at the sound of Cregan's name falling from his sister's lips in such a context. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to barge into the room and tear his rival away from you. But even through the haze of his anger, he couldn't help but picture the scene - his beautiful sister, writhing in ecstasy on the bed as her new husband indulged greedily on her dripping cunt.
Despite the jealousy, Jacaerys palmed his hardening length through his breeches, imagining he was the one bringing his darling twin to such heights of pleasure.
He drew near to the door, his heart thundering in his chest. Jacaerys swallowed hard, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. A part of him knew he should leave to give you and your new husband the privacy you deserved. But another part that still ached with longing for your touch, urged him to enter. To see with his own eyes the passion that set his sister's blood aflame.
Jacaerys hesitated a moment longer before quietly pushing open the heavy oak door, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. As he stepped into the bedchamber, his eyes widened in shock at the utterly depraved scene unfolding before him.
There, in the centre of the room, was the bed. And there, upon the bed, was a sight that stole his breath away. His precious twin, his sweet sister, was on her hands and knees, her back arched in a way that thrust her hips up and presented the glistening, dripping folds of her sex to Cregan's hungry mouth.
The sight of Cregan's dark head nestled between his sister's thighs, of his mouth greedily devouring your most intimate place, made Jacaerys' heart clench with a pang of bitter envy. The nasty slurping sounds filling the room, punctuated by your shameless cries of pleasure and guttural moans.
"Fuck, Cregan! Yes, yes!"
Jacaerys stood frozen, hardly able to believe his eyes at how his sister was allowing herself to be taken, so wantonly and without shame. Drool spilt from the corner of your slack mouth as you lost yourself in pleasure, totally unaware of your brother's presence.
He watched, enraptured and appalled in equal measure, as Cregan pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy with each pass of his tongue, each greedy suckle of your swollen clit. The sight of his sister's pleasure was breathtaking and breathtakingly lewd, your body glistening with sweat and your arousal dripping down your quivering thighs. He had never seen his sweet, innocent sister so utterly consumed by carnal pleasure... it was almost too much for the young prince to bear.
Under his robes, Jacaerys' manhood strained against the confines of his breeches, the thick length throbbing and aching for release. He palmed himself through the fabric, his breath growing ragged as he watched Cregan devour your sex like a starving man.
You gasped in shock as you turned to see Jacaerys standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. Embarrassment flushed through you, colouring your cheeks a deep shade of red.
"J-Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice catching on a desperate moan you couldn't quite suppress. You were mortified for him to see you like this - on your hands and knees, drool spilling from your slack mouth as Cregan feasted greedily on your dripping cunt. It was a sight so foul and vulgar, so far removed from the sweet, innocent girl he knew.
He had never witnessed you in such a state of shameless abandon before. Always, his lovemaking had been gentle and tender, laying you down like a true gentleman before worshipping your body with soft, respectful touches. Seeing you mewling and writhing in ecstasy, your round ass raised and presented to your husband's hungry mouth... it had to be a shock for him surely.
He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming over your arched back, the reddened globes of your ass.
"Sweet sister..." Jacaerys breathed out, his voice thick with shock and a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the erotic spectacle.
"Brother, please," you gasped out between desperate moans and whimpers, your back arching as Cregan continued his relentless assault on your sex. "Don't look..." You couldn't bring yourself to beg him to stay, yet you couldn't bring yourself to beg him to flee.
Cregan glanced up at Jacaerys, his eyes glinting with a wicked, almost taunting light. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Why don't you join us, Your Grace?" Cregan invited, his tone dripping with mocking deference. "Your sister is a feast that begs to be shared."
Before you could utter a word of protest or pleading, Cregan's skilful tongue pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, back arching as you came with a loud, shameless cry that echoed through the room. "Ahhh!" you screamed, your vision going white as your eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.
Wave after wave of raw, primal bliss crashed over you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around Cregan's plundering tongue. You gripped the silken sheets beneath you like a lifeline as you rode out your intense climax, your body shaking like a leaf.
Cregan groaned against your flesh, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as he worked you through your intense climax with skilled licks and sucks.
Jacaerys stood rooted to the spot, his mouth agape as he watched your body undulate in the throes of ecstasy. He had never seen such a display of sensual bliss from his sister before, and it both shocked and aroused him deeply.
Cregan pulled back slightly, watching with smug satisfaction as your body shuddered and jerked, your honey dripping down your quivering thighs. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your release. "That's it, love," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble that carried to Jacaerys' ears. "Let it all out. Let your brother hear what a wanton little thing you are for your husband."
"Sister!" Jacaerys gasped, his voice strangled with emotion. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the erotic spectacle unfolding before him, even as a part of him recoiled at the display. This was not the sweet, gentle girl he knew and loved... this was a creature of pure, unbridled lust.
Cregan rose to his feet, looming over your still-trembling form like a conquering warrior. He licked his lips, savouring the lingering taste of your climax on his tongue. The smug smirk playing across his lips glistened with your essence in the candlelight.
Jacaerys glared at Cregan, his jaw clenched tight with a mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. As much as he despised the man's arrogance, he couldn't deny the way his groin throbbed at the erotic sight of his sister's limp, thoroughly pleasured body.
Slowly, hesitantly at first, Jacaerys took a step forward. Then another. With each step, he felt a growing sense of transgression, of crossing an invisible line. But the pull of lust was too strong to resist.
"I'll have you know my sister is not some... some harlot," Jacaerys growled, even as he came to stand beside the bed, looking down at your trembling form. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every intimate detail - the way your breasts heaved with each ragged breath, the glistening folds of your pussy...
"I... I'm not jealous," he lied, his voice strained. But as he spoke, his hand drifted down to adjust his straining erection through his breeches, betraying his true desires. "I'm just... I'm just concerned for her well-being."
Jacaerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at your nude, trembling form splayed out before him and Cregan. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but the sight of you so wantonly pleasured had ignited a fire in his loins that he couldn't ignore.
"The offer stands, Your Grace," Cregan said smugly, his hand still possessively groping and kneading the soft flesh of your ass. "Why don't you come to claim your share?" 
With that, Cregan grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back, making you shriek and leaving you staring up at them both - your husband with his arrogant smirk and your brother with his conflicted, lust-filled gaze. Your legs fell open, giving them an unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.
You were flushed and panting beneath their appraising gazes, your breasts heaving with each ragged, uneven breath.
The fabric of your nightgown still clung to your chest, but you knew it wouldn't be long before Cregan tore it away completely. Soon, you would be bare and exposed before them both, a delight for their eyes and hands and mouths to devour.
Cregan licked his lips as he drank in the delicious sight of your naked body splayed out wantonly before them. He could see the way your brother's eyes roamed hungrily over your nude form, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the glistening folds of your sex. The air was thick with a tension that made Cregan's cock throb urgently against your thigh.
"That's right, princess," Cregan purred, trailing a finger along the curve of your breast, feeling your nipple stiffen at his touch. "You're going to be a feast for both of our appetites tonight."
"You're playing a dangerous game, Stark," Jacaerys warned, his voice low and rough. "She is my sister. Honour demands that I protect her from... from men like you."
Yet even as he spoke, Jacaerys found his hand drifting closer to your thigh, his fingers grazing your soft skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, could see the way your chest rose and fell with each desperate breath.
"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed, his voice strangled with a mix of shock and desire. "I must confess... I've never seen you like this before. Never imagined..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words, his mouth suddenly dry.
Cregan smirked at the prince's obvious arousal, his hand still possessively gripping your hip. "Aye, it's a sight to behold, isn't it? Your sister's sweet cunny, so ripe and ready for the taking."
Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to meet Cregan's arrogant gaze before dropping back to your naked body. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "And I find myself... craving a taste."
With a rough tug, Cregan ripped the flimsy fabric away, baring your naked body entirely to both their hungry gazes. Your breasts bounced free, the flush peaks puckered and begging for attention. Your cunny soaked with arousal, the delicate folds dewy and swollen with desire.
You gasped softly as Cregan tore away the fabric of your nightgown. With a teasing smile, you slipped the ruined garment off your shoulders. It joined the growing pile of tattered nightgowns you had accumulated since marrying Cregan - this was the third one this month...
"My, my, so eager are you to have me bare and wanting," you murmured, arching an eyebrow at your husband. "A simple 'take it off' would have sufficed, my dear husband. But I must admit, there's something thrilling about being ravished."
"My brother, you look as though you've never seen me before," you tease softly, reaching up to walk your fingers along the swell of your breasts. "It was only yesterday you had me? Have you already forgotten your sister's charms?" You shrug, the movement making your breasts bounce slightly, drawing their eyes to the ripe mounds.
Jacaerys swallowed hard as he watched your breasts, jiggling maddeningly with each subtle movement. The way you spoke, so calmly and playfully, only served to heighten his agitation. He couldn't recognise the lustful creature before him.
"I... I have not forgotten," he managed to say, his voice weakened with desire. "But this... this is different. Seeing you so brazenly needy..." He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and could feel his cock throbbing urgently against the confines of his breeches.
Cregan glanced at Jacaerys, his smirk widening at the prince's hungry gaze. "Isn't she a sight, Jacaerys? I've never seen a woman more in need of a man's touch."
Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from your breasts to your dripping sex. He could see the glistening arousal coating your thighs, the way your cunt clenched and fluttered as if begging to be filled.
"I've touched you a thousand times before," Jacaerys murmured, his eyes locked with yours. "But never like this. Never with such... hunger."
And with that admission, his hand cupped the heat of your sex, his fingers delving into your dripping folds. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around him, your slick arousal coating his digits.
"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed. "You're so wet. So ready."
You gasped sharply as Jacaerys plunged his fingers deep into your aching core, your inner walls clenching greedily around the intrusion. "Mmh, oh," you whimpered, gazing into his eyes with a hooded, lust-filled gaze. "Please, I need... I need you to take me. Hard." You arched your back, pressing your dripping sex more firmly against his hand. "Not soft caresses, but a man's forceful touch. Claim me as Cregan has, make me scream your name."
Cregan licked his lips as he watched Jacaerys plunge his fingers deeper into your dripping sex, your inner walls clenching greedily around the invading digits. Your needy whimpers and moans filled the air, spurring the prince's desires.
Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you writhed beneath his touch. You yearned to feel his hard length driving into you, stretching you, filling you utterly.
"Don't hold back," you pleaded breathlessly, reaching down to guide his other hand to your breast. "I want to feel owned, possessed. Ruined." you gasped again as he squeezed the soft mound. "Take me, Jacaerys. Fuck me hard."
Jacaerys shuddered at your beggings, his eyes darkening with lust at your shameless words. He could feel Cregan watching him, smirking at the prince's obvious arousal, but all thoughts of your husband faded away as he lost himself in the allure of your naked, trembling body.
With a low, possessive growl, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a force that stole your breath away. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hard, thick length of his cock straining against his breeches.
"My princess," he breathed against your lips, "I will give you what you need."
Jacaerys ripped off his doublet and tunic, baring his muscular chest to your heated gaze. He kicked off his boots and tore away his breeches until he stood naked and magnificent before you, his cock jutting out proudly from a thatch of dark curls.
Cregan quickly shed his clothing, his massive cock springing free, already leaking and throbbing with need. He grasped himself, stroking the thick shaft lazily as he watched.
"Tell me, Your Grace," he asked with a wicked grin, "have you ever taken your dear sister like the vixen she is?" He stroked himself lazily as he awaited Jacaerys' response. "Have you ever gripped her hips and pounded into her from behind, spanking that perky ass as you used her for your pleasure?"
"No, I must confess I have not. I have always been gentle and considerate with you, sister. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking down to your dripping sex before meeting Cregan's gaze. "I find myself wanting to take you in a way I never dared before. Hard and fast, until you scream."
Cregan chuckled darkly, giving his rigid shaft a slow pump. "Then take my advice, Your Grace. Put our princess on her hands and knees, and fuck her like the wild beast she is. Claim her cunt from behind."
"Not inside her, Jacaerys," Cregan warned, his voice rough with lust. "You're not to spill your seed in her womb. That privilege is mine, as her husband." He gripped his cock tighter, pumping it slowly as he spoke. "But by all means, have your fun with her needy body. Show me how you pleasure my bride. But do not forget, regardless of how loudly she screams, she is mine."
Your brother ignored Cregan's arrogant words, instead focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Jacaerys leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, dear sister," he promised darkly. "Scream until the whole castle hears who brings you such ecstasy."
Before you could respond, he had you flipped over onto your hands and knees in one swift, forceful motion. You gasped as you felt the cool air kiss your exposed, tingling skin.
Glancing back over your shoulder, you could see the raw hunger in both their eyes as they drank in the sight of your upturned rear.
Jacaerys gripped your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the way your body trembled with anticipation.
"Look at that ass, Cregan," Jacaerys growled, giving your cheek a sharp smack. The sound echoed obscenely in the room, and he watched with dark satisfaction as the red handprint bloomed on your skin.
"Such a perfect, ripe peach." He gripped your hips tighter and lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your folds, coating itself with your arousal.
With that, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. A low groan tore from his throat at the feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him so perfectly. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation and letting you adjust before he began to move.
"Yes," you gasped out, your back arching as Jacaerys hilted himself fully inside you. "Jacaerys!"
Emboldened by your wanton encouragement, Jacaerys set a fast, rough pace. He gripped your hips bruisingly as he drove into you again and again, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with each powerful thrust, the intense stimulation making you see stars.
"Does that feel good, little sister?" Jacaerys growled, his breath coming hard and fast as he took you. "Do you like the way your brother is fucking this needy cunt?"
Cregan watched, stroking his cock slowly as he enjoyed the show. "That's it, Jacaerys," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble. "Fuck her like the she-wolf in heat she is."
"Ohhh, god!" you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate as Jacaerys slammed into you, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks as he took you with force and hunger.
With trembling hands, you reached out blindly, craving the feel of Cregan's hard flesh in your grasp. But Jacaerys quickly pushed your upper body down against the bed, pinning you beneath him as he claimed you. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, hitting that secret spot inside you that made you see stars.
"Jacaerys!" you wailed, your back arching as you surrendered yourself completely to the intense sensations consuming you. "You feel so good!" you moaned shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care about anything but the feeling of your twin's cock driving into you relentlessly.
Through the haze of pleasure, you could see Cregan watching you, stroking his impressive length as he enjoyed the depraved spectacle of his wife being taken by her brother. The knowledge that you were putting on such a show onlyheightened your excitement, and you could feel your second climax fast approaching.
"Such a pretty girl," Jacaerys praised, his voice ragged and uneven. "Love your pretty body, love you," he whispered the last part, getting lost in the pleasure.
Jacaerys pistoned into you wildly, grunting and whining. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your waist, gripping you and occasionally caressing your sweat-slick skin as he rutted into you like a man possessed.
"Fuck!" Jacaerys snarled, his hips slapping against yours with brutal force. "You feel so fucking good around my cock. I can't... I can't hold back..."
He leaned over you, covering your smaller body with his own as he fucked you with deep strokes.
"Scream for me, dear sister," Jacaerys demanded, his voice a low rasp. "Let the whole castle hear who is claiming this pretty cunt. Let them know that the princess is being fucked raw by her brother."
Cregan watched, stroking himself in time with Jacaerys' frenzied thrusts. He could see your face, contorted in ecstasy, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of your brother's cock.
"Look at her, Jacaerys," Cregan taunted, his hand a blur on his shaft. "Look at the way our princess is crying on your dick. She's loving every second of being split open on her brother's cock."
Jacaerys let out a feral growl at Cregan's taunt, somehow fucking you even harder. The room filled with the lewd sounds of your coupling - the slap of flesh on flesh, the creaking of the bed frame as it strained under the force of Jacaerys' thrusts, your high, keening cries of rapture.
"I'm going to cum, Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. "Don't stop, please!"
He gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by your desperate cries of rapture and your brother's grunts of pleasure.
Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamping down around Jacaerys' pistoning cock like a vice. "Ahh!" you screamed, body trembling as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Your juices gushed out around his plundering length, making vulgar squelching noises as he fucked you through your intense orgasm.
The sensation of your cunt gripping him so tightly, dripping with your essence, proved too much for Jacaerys. With a hoarse cry of your name, he yanked his hips back, his rigid shaft slipping from your quivering sex with a gush of fluid.
"Fuck!" Jacaerys roared, his voice strained with pleasure as his cock erupted. Thick, hot ropes of seed sprayed from the head, painting your upturned ass and the small of your back in a lewd display of your brother's spend.
Jacaerys slumped over you, panting harshly as the last spurts of his release dripped onto your skin. "Sweet sister," he gasped out, his hands still gripping you possessively. "I've never felt anything like that before..." He trailed off as he rolled to lay next to you, recovering from his intense climax.
Your body trembled and shook as the final waves of your explosive orgasm rippled through you. Knees weak and quivering, they collapsed beneath you, leaving you sprawled wantonly on the bed, chest heaving and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.
But your respite was short-lived. Through the fog of pleasure, you felt the tap-tap-tap of a hard, throbbing cock against your flushed cheek. Your gaze fluttered open lazily, following the rigid shaft up to see Cregan looming over you, his eyes dark with lust and a smug, arrogant smirk playing across his lips.
"Mmm, that was quite the show you two put on," Cregan purred, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock over your cheek, smearing his arousal across your skin. "You screamed so sweetly for your brother, my dear wife. I do hope he satisfied you." He gripped himself and tapped his erection insistently against your mouth, the thick head pressing demandingly at your lips. "But now, it's time for your husband to have his turn. You're my wife, and I intend to remind you of that fact. Open up, princess."
Jacaerys watched, still panting softly as he recovered. He saw Cregan looming over your sprawled form, his cock tapping insistently at your lips. A flicker of jealousy sparked in his chest at the sight, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the depraved thrill of watching his sister service her husband.
Your brother's eyes met yours, dark and heavy with lingering lust. "Don't keep your lord waiting, dear sister," Jacaerys murmured, his voice still rough from their coupling. "Show him the depths of your devotion. Take his cock like the dutiful wife you are."
"Mmmm, yes husband," you nodded your head obediently and got into a comfortable enough position to service him.
Beside you, Jacaerys watched the exchange with a mix of awe and lingering arousal. He could see the way Cregan manhandled his twin, the way you submitted so sweetly to his demands.
You gazed up at Cregan with hooded, sultry eyes as you wrapped your hand around his thick, pulsing shaft. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and could see the way his cock throbbed eagerly in your grasp. Slowly, you licked your lips before leaning in and dragging your tongue along his length.
"Mmmm, you taste so good, my lord," you purred, your voice low and seductive. You swirled your tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the bead of precum that leaked from the tip. Then, with a moan, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by thick inch, until your nose was buried in the musky curls at the base of his shaft.
Cregan groaned, his head falling back as your hot mouth engulfed his aching cock. His fingers tangled in your blonde hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided your head to take him deeper. "Ohh, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking slightly as he fucked your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, my needy little wife. Show me how much you love your husband's cock."
You could feel him, so hard and heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips wide. But you were no stranger to your husband's cock, having pleasured him countless times before. You relaxed your throat and took him deep, holding him there as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes.
Your hand pumped what little of his shaft remained outside your lips, stroking him in time with the bobbing of your head. You could feel him twitch and throb against your tongue, could taste the saltiness of his skin and the first drops of his pleasure. You moaned around his thick length, the vibrations making his cock jump and pulse in your mouth.
He began to rock his hips, fucking your face with slow, deliberate strokes. His heavy balls lightly smacked against your chin with each thrust, a lewd reminder of his virility and your subservient role.
Jacaerys watched, transfixed, as your lips stretched obscenely around Cregan's thick shaft. He could see the way your throat bulged with each thrust and could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of you suckling your husband's dick. The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh.
"That's our princess," Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and rough with renewed arousal. "Such a good little wife, so eager to please her lord." He reached out to gently pet your head.
You could feel Cregan's cock pulsing. His fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he rutted into you, chasing his pleasure. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth as he fucked your face, grunting and groaning above you.
Glancing over at Jacaerys, Cregan smirked arrogantly. "I must say, Jacaerys, your sister has a talented mouth. No wonder you couldn't resist her. I'm glad to have such a skilled little bride."
Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he used your mouth. "Such a good girl, taking me so deep," he praised roughly. "You love having your husband's cock in your throat, don't you? Love being put in your place."
He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, holding himself there as he let you gag and choke around his thick length. The feel of drool dripping down your chin only spurred him on.
The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to Jacaerys' own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh. Your brother gripped himself as he watched, stroking in time with Cregan's thrusts. "Yes, dear sister," Jacaerys rasped, his voice rough. "Always been so good with your mouth, haven't you?" he murmured, reaching down to palm the globes of your ass. He could feel the sticky evidence of his release coating your skin.
You gazed up at Cregan with lust-filled, tearful eyes as he used your throat, spit dripping down your chin. The praise and the thick, hard length pulsing deep in your throat made your head spin with arousal. You didn't want to admit it, but being desired, being wanted, being taken and used by your husband and brother thrilled you in ways you could hardly express.
The knowledge that it was your dear twin watching, stroking himself to the sight of you being so thoroughly used, sent a shameful surge of heat straight to your core.
A muffled moan escaped you, vibrating around Cregan's pistoning cock as you submitted to his lustful demands. Being the object of such intense desire, of such primal, animalistic desire, stirred something deep within you.
Cregan felt your moan reverberate around his throbbing cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge. "Fuck, darling," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. "The way you moan around my dick, so desperate and needy..." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself deep in your convulsing throat.
Jacaerys watched, stroking himself in time with Cregan's pace. The sight of your tear-streaked face, the lewd sounds of your gagging and choking, the slack, drooling lips stretched taut around Cregan's pistoning shaft...
"You're a dirty girl, princess," Jacaerys raspy. "So hungry for cock, for the taste of your husband's seed. I've never seen such a wanton creature before."
Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with pride and smug satisfaction. "She's my wife," he declared, punctuating the statement with a rut of his hips. "A princess, but my princess, to use as I please. And I please to fill this greedy throat with my cum."
Cregan slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing and jerking as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of seed flooded your mouth and throat, the salty, slightly bitter taste of his spend coating your tongue. He groaned long and low, grinding his hips against your face as he emptied himself down your convulsing gullet.
"Fuck!" Cregan roared, his eyes squeezing shut in bliss as he pumped load after load of his seed directly down your throat. His fingers tangled carefully in your hair, holding you in place.
Jacaerys couldn't hold back any longer at the erotic sight, his cock pulsing and spurting his second load of the night, painting your ass and back with his hot, sticky seed as he imagined it was your hungry cunt gripping him tight...
You swallowed every last drop of Cregan's hot, thick seed, feeling it slide down your throat. As he pulled out with a groan, you let his softening cock slip from your mouth with a lewd pop. 
Gazing up at him through a sheen of tears and lust, you lovingly licked his slick shaft clean, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head before dragging it along the throbbing underside.
"Mmmm, you taste divine, my lord husband," you purred, your voice raspy from the thorough fucking your throat had received. You continued to lap at his cock, laving every inch with kittenish licks until his hips began to twitch and jerk, his fingers pulling almost painfully at your hair as he whimpered.
"Sweet gods, woman," Cregan gasped out, easing your head back to put an end to your ministrations lest he find himself growing hard once more. "You seek to undo me, don't you? Such a wicked, insatiable little minx..."
You merely smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a deep satisfaction at having pleased your husband so thoroughly. Your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of his release on your lip before you sat back on your heels, the cool air kissing your slick skin and making you shiver. 
Behind you, you could feel the heat of Jacaerys' gaze as he no doubt admired your glistening rear and the sticky evidence of his second climax.
Cregan gently wiped the tears and saliva from your face with a soft cloth, his touch tender after the roughness of moments before. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Look at you," he murmured, a rare softness in his voice. "Such a beautiful woman, taking your husband so well."
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, no doubt tasting himself on your tongue. The kiss was full of satisfaction and a hint of awe at your enthusiasm.
Breaking the kiss, Cregan trailed his fingers down your neck, over your collarbone, to gently squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. "You please me greatly, wife," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
Cregan continued his tender ministrations, lavishing your skin with soft kisses and gentle caresses.
You melt into Cregan's gentle touches, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips. Gazing up at him, you give your lord husband a loving smile, your eyes shining with adoration and lingering desire. You lean into his caress, savouring the tender brush of his fingers against your cheek.
Behind you, you feel the bed dip as Jacaerys comes to kneel. He nuzzles into the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine.
"Mmmm, I could get used to this," you murmur, tilting your head to give your twin better access to your neck. "Being worshipped and praised by my two favourite men."
Jacaerys nuzzled into the nape of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist possessively. "You deserve to be worshipped, dear sister," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "A beautiful, insatiable creature like you..."
He swept your hair aside, exposing the elegant line of your throat. Jacaerys pressed his lips to your racing pulse, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. His hands slid down to your hips and pulled you back against him.
In front of you, Cregan watched with indulgent amusement as his wife melted under her brother's attentions. He leaned in, his breath hot against the other side of your neck. "Isn't she magnificent?" Cregan asked rhetorically, his fingers dancing over your collarbone.
Cregan placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, down to your chin, before tilting your face towards him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke along yours.
You melt into their touches, one hand coming up to tangle in Cregan's dark hair as he kisses you deeply, his tongue stroking along yours. Your other hand reaches back to grip Jacaerys' hair, anchoring yourself to him.
Jacaerys presses against your back, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You moan into Cregan's mouth and arch into your brother's embrace as his lips worship the column of your throat.
"You're my wife, and I trust you both," Cregan said with a nod to Jacaerys. "As long as I'm present, I have no objections to you sharing intimate moments with my lady. In fact," he added with a smirk, "I find it rather arousing to watch you pleasure each other." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "Just remember, dear wife, that sweet cunt belongs to me. No matter how many times your brother fucks you, no matter how much you scream and cum on his cock, you're still my wife. Your womb is mine to fill."
You gazed up at Cregan, your heart fluttering in your chest as you took in his rugged, handsome features. Unable to resist, you peppered his chiselled face with soft, loving kisses, your lips brushing against his skin like the wings of a butterfly.
"My darling husband," you murmured between kisses, your voice breathy with lingering desire, "you honour me with your blessing. I am yours, body and soul, now and forever." You nuzzled into his cheek, breathing in his masculine scent. "I long for the day I can carry your child, to swell with the evidence of our love."
Cregan's eyes softened as he listened to your heartfelt declaration, tenderness flickering in their stormy depths. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.
Jacaerys met Cregan's gaze, a matching smirk on his lips as he felt your slick arousal coating his fingers. "Your wife is exquisite, my lord," he murmured, pumping two long digits into your tight channel. "I look forward to sharing her many pleasures with you."
Cregan nodded, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, to where Jacaerys' fingers already teased your dripping slit.
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oceanwithouthermoon · 2 days ago
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I like your saiteru posts but I can't shake the idea that Teruhashi only loves the idea of Saiki and not actually Saiki, especially since she hated when he gave her a glimpse of himself when he was competitive during their date.
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ive seen this take floating around a few times, this whole "teruhashis mental image of saiki is wrong" "teruhashi wouldnt love him if she got to know him" "teruhashi hated any time she saw his REAL personality" and i just dont get it because like...
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this scene?? the scene where hes being inconsiderate, rude, not taking her feelings into account, making her play games she doesnt even want to play, acting like a gooner, etc? THIS is the scene you thought was him showing her a glimpse of what hes really like??? where did you get that from?/genq
hes competitive, yeah, but this… isnt being competitive, its just being an asshole. thats not what hes like when hes trying to win. him wanting to win games and show off with his powers is not equivalent to being an inconsiderate tryhard who wants to make everyone do what he wants with no thought to what they want…
but youre ALSOOOOO forgetting that she actually did end up being like… “hehe i still wuv him 😚” after this…
so.. on THAT note, i need everyone to pay really really close attention to what im about to say…
she loves him when hes rude, inconsiderate, pushy, competitive…
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she loves him when hes open, popular, kind, powerful, reading her mind…
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she loves him when hes gloomy, monotone, boring, quiet…
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she loves him when hes a GIRL.
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so why is the conclusion here “she wouldnt love him for the real him”? the logical conclusion here seems to be “she would love him no matter what”
WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESNT SCREAM “LOVE”?
and regarding her "only loving his persona the same way people only love teruhashis", i think everything above disproves that anyway but i have to go more into it because not only have you misunderstood me but this also implies you think none of saiki and teruhashis friends truly love them at all 😭
saikis quiet, boring self isnt completely not him. its still him, just a different side of him than you might be used to as a viewer. you guys have to understand that although, yes, he is masking and putting up a front, that doesnt mean EVERY part of him that people see is fake 😭 its the same with teruhashi, she doesnt have a single tangible "true" self entirely on the inside and a single tangible "fake" self entirely on the outside, its NOT completely black and white! PEOPLE arent completely black and white!
youre forgetting that me saying those guys (the kokomins and all those gross ew men) dont love her because they dont know and see her was accompanied by a picture of them literally asking her to continue validating them immediately after she woke up from passing out 😭 they quite literally dont love or care about her, not even about her image, they just like the idea of her image and want her to make them feel good. the whole "nobody sees and knows and loves her" doesnt apply in the same way to yumehara and their other friends, they may not truly see her with the same depth that saiki does but that doesnt mean their care for her is fake, because they DONT care more about her image than just her and being in her company even if they do still see the parts of her that ARE fake.
you cant just take the idea that they fake a lot of themselves around others and morph that into "every single thing people see of them is fake and every single thing they dont see is an accurate representation of their true selves", it just doesnt work like that 😭 regardless of saikis power and silliness and sweetness and competitiveness, hes still a quiet guy with a gloomy face. and regardless of teruhashis cuntiness (lol) and competitiveness and obsessiveness and silliness, shes still a sweet girl who enjoys making people happy. they can be BOTH and thats okay!
this misunderstanding is like youre hearing someones thoughts and thinking "oh what a blunt person" like well... no because not everything in your head defines your personality or is something youd ever want or need to say aloud. everyone thinks crazy things, had wrong initial impressions, etc, do you see my point?? am i getting this across properly??? saiki still enjoys sitting in his house and doing nothing but eating coffee jelly and playing video games and teruhashi still enjoys when she makes people happy, those things arent fake just because they contribute to their fake personas... saiki also would not have been singing and doing standup or whatever the hell people are convinced he wouldve been doing at the mixer with someone hes "more comfortable" with, he doesnt do that shit around anyone 😭 not around his family and not around the psychickers, so im not sure where people got the idea that her thinking he would sit there and do nothing was her not understanding him or that the way he was making the guys act was how he truly wants to act 😭 he can sing and crack jokes but he never has around anyone so we dont know if thats what he wants to do, i dont even remember him making jokes aloud to the psychickers other than being a little sassy ☠️ the most i remember is him making short silly jokes to tease his dad or toritsuka... you guys just assume that hes the type of guy to stand up and sing and yell and make everyone roll over laughing because idk... maybe you cant stand the idea that your fav might not be a sexy loud confident alpha male and might actually be a little guy who loves video games and watching people and being a little brat on occasion ☠️
i feel like this take is just you guys taking both their insecurities SUPER seriously, because what else could be making you think that ANYONE who doesnt know about his powers doesnt truly love or care for saiki??
anyway... it clearly just doesnt matter to her how he acts because she just loves him and enjoys his company no matter what. thats love.
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universalincubal · 14 hours ago
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Hey there. So I was in Nazi circles as a child until adulthood and came from red Northern and Southern California, the Deep South, and am now living in that funky part of the Midwest where it's still segregated but pretends to like queer people (super weird). So I've lived in and have stomping grounds in a good chunk of the USA. I am now 21 years old, just to make this a little clearer.
Anecdotally, I have never, and I mean legitimately NEVER personally known a Nazi who was not at the least a partial Trump supporter, if not an outright follower of his cult. There is definitely a range, but in effect it produces the same result. I'd say about 35% of everyone I knew was in his cult by summertime of 2019. The rest were vocal supporters of largely an avidly supportive bent.
Any leftover individuals who didn't like whatever random decision he made at whatever time, kinda just shut their mouth and chose to focus on what they did like about him or what he was doing to the country. Trump was doing such a flurry of things for so long and he was spinning such wild stories that people became addicted to the drama high and just didn't want to stop living in that high. They were the real right ones, they had held fast, they had done their righteous work and now the fruits of their labor were finally becoming apparent. And then Trump lost the election and took all of that with him. That's a significant part of the reason for the Insurrection, and the suicides.
Because Trump is an open supporter of Nazism and Hitler, and bad actors who happen to be Nazis (literally watched this live and recorded before 2021 but can't find any evidence now that Google is AI), Nazis in turn provide him at least surface level support because even if that Nazi happens to disagree with Trump's image, overall demeanor, or select-any political decision, they understand that he is their best option to actually get what they want. What they want is a Fourth Reich. They believe the USA is the new motherland and that the Fourth Reich is prophesised to occur here, presumably somewhere in the Heartland, as a grassroots movement that takes back the decimated personal rights of White Americans and people of Aryan descent. (The reason I state it this way is because this is how they romanticize it and this is how it would look to an outsider. It may also help recall memories in those who may suspect or need to remember specifics on Nazi upbringing.)
Now yeah, I've heard of Nazis who don't support Trump. The problem is they are largely ostracized from the rest of the community, at least from what I've seen. They don't show up at the family functions or the important meeting. They don't sit in at the council anymore. Their granddaughters see them less. There's a clear social loss to not supporting Trump in the last ~8 years and because he is taking the White House again, there will continue to be. This should be paid attention to.
I could see how an ostracized individual could do some petty crime like this, but that shouldn't be ignored or downplayed. A deeper rift between differing kinds of Nazis is dangerous for everyone because it creates a lot more singly dangerous acts, risky individuals who are more likely to drop a bomb in a store, or shoot their wife or parents, or drive a vehicle through a crowd, than to organize a militia. We would need to see Nazis with differing opinions come together in one movement to achieve militias and enact whatever judgement they see fit in any organized fashion. This does not mean that chaotic, disconnected violent acts would not be ridiculously dangerous and cause terror in the general populace. I personally know, having grown up Nazi, that mass disorganized violence is what Plan B is for.
Be careful around Nazis. They live for volatility and are incredibly dangerous. Be smart and stay safe. They will always try to get a reaction or an effect with what they say. Just don't let them have it. They have the White House and all of our rights and lives with it. It's not worth risking your safety or the safety of anyone else because we have a longer fight we need to win with stamina and perseverance. If they hit first (and they have and will continue to), they will always be on the wrong side of history, and we are free to retaliate as necessary for the good of society. Good luck out there.
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Trump supporter or opponent?
Someone just painted a swastika on Donald Trump's star on Hollywood Boulevard but the cops can’t figure out if it was a supporter or an opponent.
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reallyromealone · 3 days ago
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Title: mate oh my mate chapter 2
Fandom: vampries knight
Characters: vampire knight cast
Fic type: fluff, angst
Pairings: Kaname. x reader, yuuki x Kaname one sided
Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, yuuki is angry, one sided love, reader has powers, reader can see the future and is an empath
Notes: thank you all for the support it genuinely means the world to me
Summary: things quickly spiral and Yuuki has enough and cross realizes that (name) knows more than he lets on
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
Yuuki couldn't stop staring at him.
The other Omega.
(Name) Walked with a grace she couldn't even begin to emulate and a poise that made her look like a wild animal and all that made her despise the vampire prince. (Name) Barely acknowledged her, not to be rude but their paths didn't cross very often and when they did he was so fucking kind to her!
"Just because he's an Omega, suddenly he's more important than anyone else!" Yuuki ranted to Sayori who listened patiently, knowing the brunettes love/obsession for Kaname and the sudden competition was driving the poor girl into a spiral. Sayori didn't have the heart to tell her that Yuuki was never even in the race, seeing how Kaname looked at (name) the few times that she saw them... That was a love that could never be faked. "I-I just have to show him that I'm good enough! That I can be a capable wife!"
Sayori didn't say anything but let her continue until the morning bells rang, halting the girls ranting.
(Name) Politely chatted with Aido, not sitting to close to the Alpha and primarily letting the Alpha chat away while Kaname spoke with the teacher,(name) liked Aido as the blond treated him like a genuine friend which was something (name) didn't have much of due to his status. "Thankfully the day students are less crazy in the mornings since they're tired and have to be in class!" Aido cheered and (name) nodded, finding the evening switch to be quite intense and the Omega frankly didn't know what to do with so many people fawning over him.
"(Name)" Kaname called out to his mate, (name) politely saying his goodbyes to Aido before promptly walking to Kaname with an obedience that made the Alpha let out a soft rumble, happy (name) was being good for him; mostly due to the fact (name) wasn't Hungry.
"Are you ready to leave?" Kaname) asked in a whisper, kissing his mates temple and (name) closed his eyes before nodding, exhaustion hitting him in slow moving waves.
The night class never spoke about the fact Kaname and (name) shared a bed, it kept (name)s instincts at bay and calmed him considerably... None of them wanted to deal with him when he was even slightly feral.
"Then let's get to bed ,yes?"
-
"So why is (name) treated the way he is?" Zero asked his adoptive father who sighed "Zero, do you know what a feral Omega is like?" He asked the young alpha calmly, the white haired teen thought for a moment before answering "they're strong, they run in instincts and they could take down an alpha if their instincts were on high Enough alert"
"Good you pay attention in class, now take all that and put that into a vampire who struggles with reality because they're a seer and the only person who can keep them calm is a busy alpha vampire trying to keep his sibling from putting the seer Omega into a spiral" cross was rarely this serious, staring at the other calmly and Yagari blew smoke from his cigarette "(name) is incredibly dangerous but he is incredibly vital, him being here and monitored by not just the night class will keep him and everyone safe"
Zero thought about his mentor and adoptive father's words "but why keep him alive if he's so dangerous?"
"(Name) Can see the future and can predict danger with terrifying accuracy, keeping him on our side is detrimental especially as the vampire royalty has made a treaty with the hunters!" cross smiled at the teen, wanting to calm him down a bit "so, as long as he's with Kaname or calm we shouldn't have problems"
"He must be a monster" zero spat, frustrated at the Omega being treated with such a level of superiority and cross sighed before looking out the window to see (name) walking with the night class "the thing is... Hes innocent, hes... He's just terrified and why wouldn't he? Would you not be terrified if you knew what everyones intentions were towards you? To detect ones emotions and know just how powerful one could be?"
"He lives in a nightmare in his own mind and we can merely bare witness to the events"
-
He could feet the rage, the resentment and the pure acidity of jealously radiate off his sister in law, the two locking eyes and flashes of her intentions and outcomes in the future flickering in this head before it locked onto Kaname protecting him from a rod.
He felt pity for her, he knew how vampiric traditions worked and he knew typically if it was possible, she would be with Kaname but (name) outranked her due to his omegan status...
He couldn't help but feel pity for her, breaking eye contact to continue walking to the night dorms while Kaname walked a bit behind, eyeing his sister with caution and trying to figure out what her next steps were.
Yuuki glared at (name), hands shaking and she hated that she couldn't smell his pharamones due to being a beta, (name) on the other hand smelling the anger radiating off her and scrunched his nose at the smell though to Yuuki it was seen as him looking at her with disgust.
And that's all she needed, pulling out her weapon to strike him down.
She ran full speed at (name) and jumped to strike him, (name) quickly turning and stepping away and letting Kaname step before him and block her attack. Yuuki was stunned at her brother, anger flooding her body and tears filled her eyes.
"That is enough!" Kanames voice bellowed through the courtyard, causing Yuuki to shrink back at the sound and (name) to fidget, a soft whine escaping his lips. "Yuuki, you were raised better than this" his voice firm and the girl glared at her brother teary eyed "you are old enough to keep your emotions in check, these childish tantrums are unbecoming and frankling pathetic, get your act together because no one cares to entertain these delusions!" Kaname would not tolerate his sister's blatant attack and if it weren't for the dwindling numbers of pure bloods, he would have struck her down where she stood.
He loved his sister deeply but this had to end.
"Whats going on?" Cross spoke hurriedly while Yagari and Zero followed behind, trying to assess the situation "Yuuki attacked (name), well attempted!" Aido called out and Ichigo checked in on said Omega who was mumbling things with his eyes closed much to the concern of everyone but Yuuki who was confused and a bit unsettled by the Omega "Kaname, take (name) back to the dorms will you?" Cross had to have a conversation with the youngest kuran-cross.
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Kaname held (name) close, walking him briskly to the dorms while (name) whispered things that only Kaname could hear "her hearts made of fire and Brimstone.... Her impatience will cause her to fall from the tree..." (Name)s words barely made sense but Kaname put it together enough to know a problem when he seen one. "Let's rest now, love" he ushered him up to their room where (name) looked at kanames hand and the burn mark from the weapon "her fire burned you, my love" (name)s voice grew colder, the polite tone in his voice vanishing and at that moment Yuuki Kuran was an enemy to (name).
Kaname knew it was only a matter of time before (name)s instincts caused him to lash out, he would need to satisfy the omegas base instincts to settle him before (name) caused problems for the Alpha.
Oh the double edged sword of having a hopelessly in love mate...
"None of this..." Kaname scolded (name) lovingly and pulled him into a kiss, trying to distract him from the rage that was filling the others being "behave for your alpha" (name) enjoyed the kisses, his rage subsided to soak in the attention the other was giving him "but--"
"Shh" Kaname bit his own lip, blood staining the alphas bottom lip and immediately captivating (name) who wanted a taste.
And falling for Kanames tricks like an obedient dog.
But Kaname knew (name) wouldn't forget such insolence from Yuuki, he knew the Omega had cards up his sleeves that he had yet to share with his alpha, did he know of the attack? It would explain the step back...
He would have to gently interrogate (name) once the other calmed down, knowing if he didn't get this in check that Kaname would be an only child.
-
Cross remembered when he first met (name), the tragedy of someone so sweet slowly go mad due to the powers gifted to them from generations before, it was slight things that he noticed with (name), the mood swings and jumping from fully lucid and passive to existing in almost a dreamlike existence.
And now Yuuki made an enemy of (name), an Omega who was trying to find the fox in his henhouse but not knowing he was his own fox.
For Yuukis own safety, he had to put her under house arrest, he knew this was just teen jealously and she would realize what she did but till then, (name) was to be kept far away from her.
"She's furious but she's safe" Yagari said softly, having locked her in her old bedroom "I can't believe she would do something so rash and--"" she's a scorned lover even if that loves one sided" Yagari calmed the man "only (name) would have seen it"
Which was something that made them pause.
"(Name) Would have seen this, why didn't he say anything?"
But they subconsciously knew why.
(Name) Wanted a fight.
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