#and yes the wedding is more closer than ever-

[kurokawaia]

DAY TWENTY FIVE - CORRUPTION 彡 Madara Uchiha

WARNINGS :: corruption, virginity taking, discrimination, breeding, size kink, madara is mean, degradation, x fem reader, restraining (using hands), prone bone, slight choking? afab, she/her terms, reader is timid / shy / scared / inferior / shorter than madara, CNC, Old ideologies regarding birth! + more

| WC :: 3.7k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

It was a reletively public wedding, so the entire village could see the bond growing further between the Senju and the Uchiha. All the villagers thought that it was a beautiful love story, one were the two of you fell for each other despite being from enemy clans. But how could they be so wrong, it was nothing of the sort.

It was an arranged marriage. 

This was the elder's decision, thinking that it would be a more secure way to confirm that the Uchiha would not fight back in the further future. The decision was made for the protection of Konoha and being Hashirama and Tobirama's timid, innocent little sister, you couldn't object.

It's your first night within the Uchiha estate, specifically Madara's. You stand in silence biting your bottom lip, in which the red lipstick that was previously there at been removed. Not only by the rigid kiss the two of you shared at the wedding but because of you nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands grip the primarily white kakeshita, you don't know what to do, Madara isn't in the room with you right now and you are too scared to do anything. You were a Senju, but now you are an Uchiha, bounded by those ridiculous ceremonies, paperwork and those vows.  Startled, you jump slightly at the creak the door makes as Madara slides it open, stepping into the room. His eyes trail up on to you, previously analysing every part of your body. YOu could feel it, it is so strong, the scrutiny in his gaze, the judgment.  "It would appear the Senju couldn't even grant me a worthy wife. Just a fragile little thing, aren't you?" Madara scrutinises and a shaky breath leaves your mouth.   Your stomach clenches at the words. Of course, he doesn't hide how much he hates your clan even now that you two have been wed. You feel small under his gaze, and his height. The way he looks at you makes you feel so inferior. 

To Madara, you aren't his wife, you are just a filthy Senju only here to bear his children. 

"I didn't ask for this," you whisper, your voice trembling.  He lets out a low chuckle and closes the space between you. "You think I asked for this? To be tied to the likes of you? A Senju, a weakling, a woman from the enemy's bloodline?" His words cut deep and the tears prick at the back of your eyes. You mean nothing to Madara but a means to an end, nothing more than a tool for him, to bear children, to give him strong children.

Madara moves around you, so now that he is behind you, his chest is almost inches away from your back. "What did your brothers think? That by sending you to me, it would make me forget the blood spilled between us? That I'd forget how your family has tried to crush mine for generations?" He adds. You flinch. Your blood running inside you was a brand of shame in itself, reminding you that no matter how hard you tried, you would never belong here, in his world, the Uchiha world, no matter how equal your clans really are. "You're nothing here," he sneers. "Nothing but a Senju in an Uchiha household. A reminder of everything I despise."

He steps closer, so his hot breath fans across your neck and your back tenses. His hand reaches up, catching your chin in an iron vice as he forces you to meet his gaze. "And now, you're here in— my bed, in my house. But don't let yourself think you'll ever be anything more than a Senju dog." Your heart races in your chest, but you grit your teeth, god, you're so scared. Madara gazes into your eyes. "I will never think of you as a Uchiha," he announces. "You shall never be of us. Our children? Yes. But you? Never." Your chest tightens. You feel yourself start to unravel, piece by piece, under his cold gaze and cruel words. You want to be able to fight back, scream at him, and make him see that you're more than the blood running through your veins. The hate weighing upon you from him crushes you, rendering you mute. The silence is then broken as Madara speaks once more, "Get into bed, it's time you played wife." Your heart sinks, and a wave of dread washes over you. There is no love in that command, no affection. His lips ghost on your neck, below your ear before pulling the sash that held your marriage kimono together before he slips the fabric down your shoulders. Instinctively, when the fabric slips to your elbows, a gasp slips past your lips and you pull your arms to your chest, covering your exposed body. 

"W-Wait," you managed to squeak out, your heart beating furiously, you swear that it was so loud that he could hear it.

You hear the click of his tongue and can feel the roll of his eyes. "What, woman?"

"I've... never... done anything... like this," you say quietly, your hands trembling, holding the fabric tighter to your chest.

"You'll do as I say, dear," he hums, emphasising the last word, almost to mock you. "I wouldn't want to... hurt you." Scared, you nod timidly, still clenching the fabric as you walk towards the futon, your body getting heavier with every step. You only just barely managed to sit on your knees, your weight on the insides of your feet. 

Your gaze was kept tight onto the sheets in front of you. Hearing a light thud hit the floor, you glance up through your mascara-tinted lashes, and you see that the sash holding Madara's wedding attire is on the floor. You can clearly see his abs through the opening of the kimono and his pants had been stripped too, you can clearly see the bulge in his underwear. 

Then, the last of his main attire was pulled off his body and tossed onto the floor, now he is only donned in his underwear, his body bare in front of you. And before you knew it, Madara was kneeling in front of you, tugging the fabric roughly out of your hold. 

Suddenly, the breath from your chest left with a sudden escape of breath as your body fell hard to the futon, Madara's bigger hands restraining your wrists beside your head. Your eyes widen while your lips tremble at the sight of Madara above you, his face so close to yours you could fall apart underneath his gaze. 

Madara closes in, his nose almost touching your own and your breath hitches. "I'm going to ruin you," he hums, moving his head to your shoulder, his lips skimming across your flesh slowly. 

God, you were trembling, you've never felt like this before, this sensation was making you loose your mind. He was being so mean to you, to one of the kindest people in Konoha, making you feel like nothing, and yet, how he made your body feel was something words couldn't explain. 

You were so focused on how he was so close to your neck, that you completely missed how Madara had already slipped down your underwear. His thick fingers pressed against the top of your pussy, so, so, so close to slipping in and hitting your clit.

Your back arches into the touch a breathy gasp falls from your lips and you want to scream in embarrassment. All you wanted to do was to cover your mouth and you couldn't even do that with how Madara was pinning your hands above your head. 

"Fuck, you're sensitive," Madara mumbles to himself, feeling and seeing how you react to such a simple touch, he smirks agasint your neck.

He's going to enjoy this.  

Opening his mouth slightly, he latches onto the dip from your neck and you squirm underneath his imposing touch. His legs spread apart your own, rendering you unable to move. Madara's stature is so big, that you didn't think you would be able to move anyway, considering how his weight was pressing down on you, how his warmth was seeping into you. 

Helpless whimpers leave your mouth as he sucks at your soft skin, leaving marks all over your chest while his fingers still lightly play with your folds, though, they never pushed past, teasing you. 

"Please...." you whimper quietly, pleading into Madara's ear so softly and as much as Madara wanted to hate your voice, it sent shivers down his spine.

"Please what?" he asks in a low tone, lips finally pulling away from your red collarbones. 

Your breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed a pinky-red hue from Madara's touches. "Please... could I have more...?" you question slowly, quietly and Madara smirks at the obvious nervousness in your voice. 

"More?" he teases, pressing his forehead against your own and you gaze into his obsidian eyes which sent electricity down your spine.

You nod small, "...Yes."

A hum comes from his mouth as he pushes his fingers past your folds, two thick fingers pressing against your clit and you moan shamelessly. You want to cover your mouth but can't, your hands are still bound above your head. 

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Madara hums as he presses his thumb against your clit and you moan, your back arched agasint the futon. Madara frowns to himself knowing that your eyes are screwed shut

At your reply, Madara's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Madara to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. You felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. As much as Madara hates the Senju's he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you, your face contorts into pain after a few seconds so he stops, head tilting.

"W-Wait," you whimper. "Gi- Give me a few seconds."

"Why should I wait for you?" Madara hums, eyes slitting at you.

"Hurts," you replied trying to regulate your breathing.

A tsk left his mouth, "It hurts because you're tense. Relax," he orders and you let your body relax under him, your breathing all controlled. "See? Doesn't hurt as much now doesn't it?"

You shook your head. "Exactly," he adds and he begins to pump his digits in and out your drenched cunt.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. 

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Madara's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

"Wait!" you sob, writhing under him. "Feels funny...."

"You're going to have an orgasm, just let it happen," he scoffs, beginning to scissor his fingers, respectively hitting your soft, gummy spot every single time. 

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Feels weird," you sob. "Feels... good too... though."

"You'll take it," Madara asserts.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release your from Madara's neck and move away from his hold.

Your legs are trembling around his waist, your cum and arousal soaked the sheets below you, dripping down your ass from your hole. As you open your squeezed-shut eyes, you see Madara take a taste of his fingers, licking a stip up his digits, swallowing your cum and your cheeks burn red. 

Madara almost groans at your taste, so sweet, he can't wait for you to break and split from his cock. Your whimpers and screams of overstimulation are going to be heaven for him. You pull your hands from his grasp as you feel the hold loosening and cover your face. It was an immediate reaction, Madara quickly pulled your hands back above your head. 

"You will not hide from me," Madara commands and your bottom lip trembles as you nod. 

God, your legs fall lip on either side of Madara on the futon and they tremble. Then you felt a big bulbous tip press against your entrance and you arch your back into the pleasuring sensation, a moan slipping past your innocent mouth. All you wanted to do was paw at his chest, and leave scratch marks everywhere, but you couldn't.

"Please... I... want to... touch you," you whispered through your whine.

A humoured chuckle leaves his throat. "As if I'd let a filthy Senju touch me."

You then got flipped around so suddenly, your breasts pushing against the futon, hands still pinned above you, face squished into the pillow. You then felt Madara's mass press down against your back and you let out a soft whimper at the sudden weight. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed. 

Madara's breath tickled your ear and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, your core getting wetter, your body trying to squirm away from the imposing hold that he had on you. Madara's hands moved slowly, changing his grip so that one of his hands held both of you over your head, being cautious not to get your hair entangled within the movement. 

A content sigh leaves your mouth when Madara raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance, dripping with your cum.

"You're going to take all of me," he mutters against your ear before taking a nibble at your ear, you let out a gasp at the sudden action.

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Madara sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A groan leaves Madara's mouth and a moan from your own as his length nudged the deepest spot within you.

Madara could've busted right there and then, your tight walls constricting him made him tense. You feel so good, and he couldn't wait to take you again and again, to fill you up to the brim with his cum every night. 

Madara moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good. His free hand grips your hip and he admires how you have perfect hips to give birth for, for a Senju, you're a perfect wife to breed. 

Madara didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Madara's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Madara rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Madara's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of you needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Madara was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Madara was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in your cunt that caused you to scream out in fulfilment. "Close?" He breathed in a humoured tone, causing you to let out a moan and sigh, body shaking with pleasure.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Madara's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. You sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "Too much, Madara.... S-Slow down.... too much."

"Oh?" he smirked, his hips moving now at a faster pace, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, "It's alright, you can hold out," he coos.

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. 

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. "Madara...?" you asked in a hush tone but he didn't reply and you wanted to sob because you just wanted one last thing. "Madara... please... I wan' a kiss, please."

"A kiss, huh?" he groans out. Madara hunches over you, pulling you closer to him and connecting your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallows your moans. 

"Good, taking me so deep," Madara groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripping again his lower abdomen, watching your cunt with black iris'. Observing how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of your cum and arousal around the base of his cock.

"Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Madara groaned his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, watching your innocence fade away, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

"Gonna fill you up," Madara groans. "You're taking me so deep, deserve to have my cum."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a filthy Senju," He leaned down and mumbled in your ear chased with a deep moan that stirred your insides clenching around his length.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head.

"C'mon darling," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing you to whimper in overstimulation, but Madara helped it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping you ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside you causing you to moan into his kiss. And you felt more of his cum spill into your fertile womb, painting your insides white, you could almost feel your stomach bulging from how much you had of your husband inside you.

Madara slipped his softening length out, and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt, watching with a slight frown as the cum spilled from your cunt. 

You're going to look so good plump with his children. He's going to make sure you get pregnant even if that means having sex morning and night. 

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[pearlymel]

A duty— Capitano

Synopsis: You were set to marry a fatui... Wait, is that a fucking harbinger?!

Wc: 3.3k

Warning(s): fem reader for this one, reader gets called "wife", Capitano is described to have dark blue eyes (i swear i did my research and they said yes to dark blue eyes), MDNI masturbation but no sex between them.

Notes: don't ask the reason why you are in an arranged marriage, my brain is fried. You can come up with your own reasons ! Wrote this with my eyes cursing at me to sleep so half not proofread. Part 2 is out here. Part 3 is out here!

Tick tock.

You watched as the clock ticked louder than usual, cringing to yourself when the sound became unpleasant to you, it was ringing in your ears.

Even the fatui around you were like statue's, you considered for a minute to check if they were even alive and breathing.

The door then swinged opened, everyone's head suddenly lowering slightly which made you even more confused, but you mimicked their gestures nonetheless for respect.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room, the sound only getting louder and heavier the closer it got you.

The steps finally stopped, and your glance up to see a big—no, giant man standing right infront of you. He seemed to be wearing a helmet to cover his face, long black hair that protrutes from the back of his helmet and over his shoulders, and the big coat that was full of fur draped around his shoulders.

You must say, he went all out with his appearance as a fatui.

"Are you perhaps..." You started, breaking the silence that hung think in the air, "... The person who I'm arranged to marry?" You finish off, tilting your head curiously.

He doesn't answer immediately, rather, he looks down at you, observing your features which makes you wipe your sweaty hands to your sides.

"Il Capitano," he finally spoke, a raspy voice, you noted. Capitano extended his arm out for you, and you willingly accepted it, giving it a gentle shake.

"Member of the fatui Harbingers."

His next words made your hand freeze. Did he just say Harbinger? Not even a normal fatui like you thought, but a whole harbinger. Standing right before you, and shaking your hand.

Well you were screwed because what the hell have you gotten yourself into.

You both were quiet now, staring at eachother that it's becoming almost painfully awkward.

"Your name?" He asks, letting your hand go and it's like you were snapped back to reality when you immediately blurt out your name.

He repeats your name like you were on his kill-off list, but that was just overthinking on your part.

"I'd like your company from now on." He announced, stepping a tad closer to you which made you hold in your breath.

"then i shall be at your company..." Giving him your best small smile, you bowed your head again.

•••

Your wedding basically consisted of a witness and marriage papers that needed your signature. You didn't even get the chance to wear a traditional wedding dress nor have a honeymoon, which you don't think is necessary for now since everything was going too fast for your liking.

And Marina, your new personal maid, has become your new friend in this big estate of Capitano's, teaching you everything you must and mustn't do. Kind of like a 101 guide on how to be a wife.

Ever since that day a two months ago, you have not done anything but cause trouble.

You wanted to go out? Well you need your husband's permission. You want to eat something? Ask Marina first and she'll whip it for you no problem, and no you're not allowed to cook by yourself. You bombarded Capitano with questions about himself, but his answers wouldn't be enough as they were about a word or a sentence long.

As boring as that is, this is your life now for... Archons know how long. But you remember it being temporary, if your memory did not fail you.

Capitano had returned back to the estate for the night, and for the first time, you greeted him at the front door with a smile, wishing you could see him smile back at you.

"My lord," you bow elegantly like how Marina taught you, speaking even softly like nothing ever happened a week ago, the fit you remember throwing at him, demanding an answer on why you couldn't do anything around.

The silence in the hallways was deafening, broken only by the clanking of his armor as he took a step closer to you, his towering figure cast an intimidating shadow upon you. "It is rare," he spoke in a blunt tone, "to see you this obedient." Capitano paused, his gaze scrutinizing your every move. "You have been behaving recently?"

You couldn't help but fidget with the hem of your clothes nervously like you have been caught, a nervous quiet laugh escaping your lips, "i believe I've always behaved."

Capitano let out a terse sigh at your answer, his eyes unflinching through the slits of his helmet. "To your luck," he muttered, "you have been... tolerable." The word 'tolerable' hung heavily in the air, making it clear that it was the most positive adjective he could summon about you.

"However," he added after a few moments, "you seem more compliant than usual today. This is an... interesting change." His tone was questioning, as if hinting that he was wary of your compliance, expecting a hidden scheme behind it.

"Shall we have dinner?" You change the topic, changing your position to stand by his side so that both of you could walk to the dining room together. Capitano nods curtly, acknowledging your suggestion. He allows you to approach, though there is a stiffness in his movements as he lets you stand by his side.

The two of you begin walking to the dining room, your husband's steps were heavy, and it was evident that he was still in his full armor, the sound of his footsteps filling the hall.

"You are not usually the one to suggest dinner," he commented, "I thought today was nice... Despite how i always fight you, forgive me." you mumble apologetically.

You become quiet when he doesn't answer back, your hands clasped infront of you instead.

You both soon reached the dining hall, now sat opposite eachother on the dining table, Capitano's gaze remained fixed upon you as you both sat across each other, the coldness in his eyes didn't waver as he observed you intently. The silence seemed to thicken as the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware against the ceramic dinnerware.

"How was your trip?" You asked casually while stuffing some veggies in your mouth.

"The trip was... uneventful," he replied tersely, pausing briefly before continuing. "The usual Fatui business, nothing that concerns you, wife." His words were as biting as ever, indicating that he wasn't keen on discussing his business matters with you.

"nofing mfun?" You ask again with your mouth too full this time, "don't speak with your mouth full of food." You swallow your food down when you caught a glimpse of disappointment in his tone, maybe he was even frowning if you could see him behind his helmet.

"i will retire to my chambers after this," you place down the silverware on the tablecloth to reach for the glass of water next to you. Capitano doesn't answer, but he nods slowly in return.

•••

The world was still and the moon illuminated the grounds outside, casting a soft glow upon the landscape. You could hear the occasional sound of crickets and the whispered rustle of leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere inside the expansive estate.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one seemingly longer than the last as you anticipated Capitano's return this time. You fidgeted with the sheets, as you waited, you recalled Marina's words, a distant memory echoing in your head, "It is custom for a wife to wait for her husband to return before she retires to bed." You never did that, no. You would always sleep before he did and he would always wake up before you did. It was rare to even see him on your side of the bed, only sometimes when you would wake up from a sudden heavy weight shifting next to you.

Despite being married for quite some time, the connection between you two was still distant and cold. Capitano didn't seem to care for you on any emotional level, instead seeing you as a mere accessory to his life as a mighty Capitano of the Fatui Harbingers. A possession rather than a wife, you thought.

Capitano's steps echoed through the room as he stepped into your bedroom, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. He closed the door behind him with a thump, shutting out the outside world and isolating the two of you in the room.

He observed you quietly for a moment, "You're not in bed yet?"

"i was waiting for you."

"And why, pray tell, were you waiting for me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Marina..." You mumble, standing up from the bed while looking away in a bit of embarrassment, "she taught me it was custom for a wife to wait for her husband."

Capitano seemed even more surprised upon hearing your answer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Marina... I see," he said slowly, of her name sending a ripple of irritation through him. Capitano disliked Marina's influence on you and how she seethe mentioned to be teaching you things.

He strode closer to you, by now you were used to his presence that it would not make you involuntary step back, you instead wait for his next move.

Lifting his hand to take a few strands of your hair was the last thing you expected. The strands resting on his hand as he lifted it closer to his helmet, almost like a gesture of kissing your hair which made you blink rapidly.

"You don't have to," he whispered, his thumb gently caressing the strands, "don't have to listen to Marina or anyone. You may do your own thing in this estate. I just want you well taken care of and safe."

You think you may have just fallen in love with the man because... Why is your heart beating so fast that it could explode? Or wait, can he hear it?

Capitano then let go of your hair, walking past you as he started loosening the straps of his armor, "it is late," he muttered with a rasp, his hands working quickly to remove his armor. The sound of armor being unthreaded echoed through the room, punctuated by the clinks of metal.

Taking off his helmet next so casually made your eyebrows furrow and sit back on the bed with your head tilted to get a closer look at him.

His eyes were glowing dark blue, the most beautiful shade of blue you think you've ever seen. The prettiest face too despite his dark and intimidating aura.

"you're beautiful." You whispered in awe, though Capitano, who was half-way through removing his armor, paused for a moment as he heard your words. He wasn't expecting such a compliment from you. It was rare for you to praise him, preferring to defy him more often than not.

"Beautiful?" he repeated, his voice gruff, you noticed his expressions and tried to act cool, your fingers nervously scratching your neck out of habit when you get shy.

"You're beautiful too, my wife." This completely caught you off gaurd, but it doesn't stop you from smiling and laughing it off quietly.

"Goodnight." Your head rests on the pillow, and this time you face him in your sleep, and he makes the effort to mimick your gestures.

"Goodnight."

•••

"Marina, where is my wife?" That was the first thing he asked your personal maid the moment he arrived back from his mission. His head looking around rather than looking down directly at Marina.

"The lady should be at her chambers."

"She's not."

"What?" Poor Marina's eyes widened, she was sure she just gave you a basket of fruits and snacks in your room, even asking you if you needed anything else.

"... Forgive me, my lord. She's probably in the bat—"

"She's not in the bathroom." He replied in a low, dangerous tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

Where are you, my lady? Marinas thought through gritted teeth before exhaling out shakily, "i shall go find her at once." Marina began looking around every corner of the estate, and each room she opened without you in it, she would lose two years of her life with Capitano following her.

You couldn't have escaped, right?

Finally when she hurriedly went to the back of the estate, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw you sitting outside on the grass with the basket of goods she handed you earlier.

You wave your hands and both Capitano and Marina with a bright smile, causing his shoulders to relax when you were at last seen having fun by yourself.

"you're going to get me killed one day." Marina mouthed at you, but since there was some distance between you both, you just smiled and shrugged at her.

Capitano approached you slowly, his purposeful stride carrying him towards you with measured steps. You were perched on the grass, happily savoring the treats in your hands, when he suddenly materialized before you. "Sit." You pat the space next to you, to which he obliged without hesitation.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"Never? It's nice."

"You do seem to be enjoying yourself." He hums thoughtfully, and your smile widens, "The last couple of months have been interesting, and i get to know you better now." You say before popping a blueberry in your mouth to chew on.

"Blueberry?" You offer, raising your hand while holding a blueberry in between your thumb and forefinger.

You might think your husband is shy by how he looks around at first before taking off his helmet, cute. Eventually he leans to take the fruit between his teeth before chewing silently, the slight fruit juice glistening on his lips before his tongue along with his thumb swiped over his lower lip.

"you know," you suddenly speak, drawing your hips near him, "we've never kissed yet."

He pauses, staring at you while thinking deep about it, "does it bother you?"

"No, does the idea bother you?" Your question held a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

Without a warning, his hand held your left cheek with gentleness, his lips slotting against yours for three seconds max before it ended.

What?

Your eyes were wide open the whole three seconds of it too!

"What was that?" The horror in your eyes was evident, not because you were scared, but because you were caught off guard and your eyes were fucking open. Capitano, upon seeing your eyes, he immediately tried pulling away, thinking he might've scared you in some way.

But you were quick to hold his wrist firmly so it wouldn't leave your cheek. "I liked it." You blurt out with the reddest cheeks ever, and he's almost amused.

"But it was too fast," you clear your throat before tilting your head closer, "may i, husband?" How can he refuse when you asked so nicely too?

Your lips latch onto his for the second time, and this time, you were going to give him a proper kiss. With your lips moving with ease against his, the sounds of soft smacks of your lips together filling the air which makes the tips of his ears go red.

You don't continue after both of you pull away to catch your breath, your eyes staring deeply into eachother as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Let's not do this again," your heart almost drops at his words. Did you mess up again? Did he not like how it felt—

"In public, i meant. I wouldn't like anyone to see you in such a state."

You can definitely hear the crickets in your head. "So we can continue kissing?"

"Mm," he only hums back before reaching for his helmet to put it back on. "I have to leave, i will be back by midnight," and when he stands up, it was your cue to stand up to bid him goodbye.

"Take care, husband." You wrap you arms around him, and he circles his arms back around you into a tight hug. It was not your first hug together, so you got used to the feeling of not being able to breath for a couple of seconds before of his tight arms around you.

•••

Capitano expected you to be awake when he returned from a few errands he had to run earlier, expecting you to wait for for him so that both of you could sleep at the same time ever since you did that day.

But you were asleep, peaceful and relaxed on your shared bed. You, wearing nothing but a silky nightgown like you always do, the blanket shuffled messily on you which revealed your legs slightly parted, and your arms hugging the pillow underneath you.

You looked like an angel to him, so vulnerable.. so pretty like this—god was he pent up from today.

He hands clenched tightly into fists until his knuckles turned white as he looked away, instead busying himself in taking off his usually neat coat which was now covered in few splatters of crimson red.

The sound of the running water masked his muttering, instantly regretting his thoughtlessness. As he grabbed the bar of soap, he began to wash vigorously, trying to expel the memories of combat and the musky scent of carnage. His body couldn't be gentler with himself though, as he massaged his muscles that ached from the constant strain.

His heartbeat quickened as his mind wandered back to you. You were the sweetest thing in his life, and he would never ever hurt you, in fact, he would rather die than have your precious skin scratched. Or even cutting off the heads without hesitating if one would hurt you.

He hates himself for envisioning your body under his, or thinking about how skilled you would be with your tongue or hands. he thought he was a selfish lustful man for thinking of such thing when you were sound asleep and tired.

Unable to bear it any longer, he reached for himself, stroking slowly at first before heavier thrusts took over all while imagining how it would feel like to be inside your soft and warm cunt instead of his hard and rough fist. The steam from the shower served to muffle his low groans, half in agony, half in ecstasy. Closing his eyes, he pictured your warm smile or shy and embarrassed facial expressions as his release came steadily forth, his forehead hit the cool tiles as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

After taking a moment to get himself together, he turned off the water and faced the mirror. How can he go back to bed after jerking off to the thought of your smile and sleeping figure? He would very much rather bang his head on the wall.

But he dried off with a sigh and headed back to bed, trying to keep his eyes half closed with his back turned to you as he sinked down on the mattress, taking a bit of blanket to cover himself with his eyes forced shut.

Your sudden arms that enveloped around him from behind is what gave Capitano a scare. A literal scare to the big man.

Were you awake this whole time? Did you hear him back in the bathroom? Was he too loud?

But your soft snores made his stiff shoulders sag in relief, indicating you were still in deep in your dreams.

He decided to turn around to face you, looking down at how innocent you looked, how the moonlight seemed to glow on your face from the window, giving your features a glowy shine.

"You have ruined me," he whispered carefully while brushing off strands of your hair away from your face to press a goodnight kiss on your forehead. "I am yours, ruin me, break me, and love me as much as you want, my wife."

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[suiana]

(yandere! vampire groom x gn! reader)

He just wanted you forever. Was that too much to ask for?

"I don't understand why you're being difficult. I thought you loved me."

You were a human, he was a vampire. You were destined to live a much shorter life than he is. In fact, he's already lived way longer than you have. 500 years without you. 500 years without having a meaning in life.

And now he's found you.

How could you be so cruel to deny both you and him eternal happiness? To take away the very reason he's willing to live?

"Why would you resist heaven's grasp? This is our fate, to be forever together. You know it."

His sharp nails grip your arms, eyes narrowing at you as he tries to convince you into seeing his point of view. He really just wants to shake you until you give in, but he probably will achieve the opposite if he does so.

"Come on, a human life is pathetic. You can barely live a hundred years. I am not seeing my spouse wither away in front of my eyes."

Your vampire groom's tone turns desperate as he grips the sleeves of your wedding outfit. You look absolutely beautiful, he thinks. All dressed up like the angel you are.

You'll look even more beautiful when you're turned.

"Why are you so hesitant to be a vampire? Surely being human is not that important to you."

But it is. He knows that. You've told him multiple times already. That you don't want to live forever, to see all your friends and family die in front of your eyes.

His eyes narrow slightly as you remain silent. He leans in even closer, face stern as if challenging you to speak back.

"Come on, is being human more important than being with me?"

"I- and if I say yes?"

The vampire's jaw locks at your answer as his grip on your upper arms tighten ever so painfully. Wrong answer. He didn't like that response of yours at all.

"You'd let me watch you die? You're cruel, you know that?"

He spits in your face as he pushes you against fhe church pew. The candles around you burn bright, their wax dripping to the cold floor of the church.

If you squint hard enough, you'd see a hint of fear in his cold eyes. Fear of losing you. Fear of you dying . Fear of you being ripped away from his embrace.

"But you should respect my choice-"

"And watch you die?! When it could all be prevented?!"

His voice is shrill, eyes widening in a mixture of anger. You wonder if you've ever seen him like this before. Seen him this angry and fearful, or this desperate and annoyed. He's always put you before him. Never asked you for anything but your love.

"Come on my love... You're not seriously dead set on staying human, are you? You'd be so beautiful as a vampire too. I'd let you drink from me and we'd be together forever!"

His grip on your arms grows tight before he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. You remain silent, unmoving, rooted in your place. You didn't want to say anything. You know anthing you say will only anger him further anyway. He's so dead-set on turning you.

You'll reject him every step of the way though.

"I said no... Can't you just-"

"No. You're being selfish."

His words cause you to pause and think. You? Selfish? Well...

"Can't I have at least one thing? I deserve it. I deserve you."

You feel his lips touch the softness of your skin, his teeth threatening to pierce you. Instinctively, you try to push him away. No way! Was he actually trying to turn you into a vampire right now?

Your beloved groom merely holds your wrists down before nipping at your neck. Wait wait wait! Just hold on a moment-

"If you can't see it on your own... It is my duty to help you see it."

You lock eyes with your vampire groom, blood running cold as he slips a ring onto your finger.

"After all, I belong to you now, as you belong to me. In life and in death."

You feel a surging pain in your body as his teeth sink into your flesh. It's not like the bites he uses when he feeds, no. This time, it's clear he's doing it to lock you with him for eternity. To keep you with him.

"I am your husband now, my love."

Yours, forever and now.

Just like you are his, forever and now.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (the tiniest bit), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg

masterlist | part 1, part 2 (they're all bite-sized, dw), part 4 (this one not so much), part 5 (this one too), part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You drop your new 0.38 ballpoint pen and it goes tumbling down, down, to the pristine carpeted floor.

Right where your jaw is.

“My what?”

The man of the hour has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes.

Is it too late to actually follow through with your fantasy of strangling him?

As if he’s daring you to go for it, he tosses you the nth annoyed look of the night. “What did I just fucking say about not making me say things twice?”

You feel yourself flush with what you think is anger and embarrassment. “Bakugou, sir—”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Smartass.

That’s it.

Before you know it, you’re already on your feet, stalking your way toward the man with the proverbial steam coming out of your nose and ears. His eyes widen in surprise as you get closer and closer before you stop right in front of his desk, towering over him for once.

“My date? Really?” You sound so incredulous, even to yourself, and you can’t help the seed of pride that blossoms over what you think is worry dancing across his features. He’s out of his goddamn mind, and between the two of you, you’re not about to be the only whose feathers are visibly ruffled over this dumb-as-shit idea. He has no business being so cool about it.

Never mind that your heart is hammering in exasperation.

Yes, just that.

Shaking your head, you press on. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re coworkers.”

You gesture to the space between you, and he merely raises his eyebrow in response with his strong arms crossed in front of his chest—snobbish as ever. “You’re my boss and I’m your underling. And I’m the HR head, for crying out loud.”

You pause to debate whether or not to say the next thing before deciding fuck it. “And what makes you think I don’t have—”

“Do you?”

Your face scrunches involuntarily at being cut off, “What?”

He leans forward, not breaking eye contact as if he’s challenging you. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He cocks his head to the side, “Or a date, at the very least?”

Your voice is small when you respond with the pitiful truth.

“…No?”

At that, Bakugou grins. If you didn’t know any better, you would say the fucking behemoth of a man looked pleased. He pushes against the edge of his desk, effectively creating a much more appropriate distance between the two of you. “Well, that settles it then. I’ll be your dashing date, we show up to your shitty ex’s wedding, and I finally teach that dickhead a lesson or two.”

A million questions start racing in your head, like: Why is this his first solution to the problem? Did he even consider whether or not you wanted to go in the first place? What did he mean by finally? And just—why?

But the one you manage to stammer out is: “Dude—what the fuck are you going to do? Are you about to mangle a guy at his wedding?!”

He looks at you like you just unceremoniously bit his ass. “What? No. What do you take me for, a brainless Nomu who just goes apeshit?”

You can only grumble in response. Yes, sometimes.

He sighs for the umpteenth time as if you’re the one who has steered the already unpleasant conversation into this bizarre topic. He stands up from his seat, and you’re back to being the one looking up at him.

The same thing probably registers in his mind because a smug look takes over his features within seconds.

“And, if you must know, I’m going to do so by being the best trophy date ever.”

You fight the reflex to choke at his words. Instead, you squint your eyes and muster your most scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond for a while, choosing to circle his desk and plant himself to your right. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, let alone jerk back at the proximity, he bends toward you until his mouth is a breadth away from your ear. His minty breath tickles your skin when he finally says: “I’m a hero, remember?”

With that, the “hero” in question sashays to the glass doorway like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you, leaving you slackjawed and unresponsive.

He’s almost out of view by the time you manage to collect yourself and blurt out a reply.

“Hey, where are you going? We still have work to do.”

“Relax,” he calls out from the hallway, his voice receding as he walks farther and farther away from you. “’m just gonna take a piss.”

When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you slump back in your seat, all the strength that’s left apparently having dissipated after that ludicrous exchange.

How could he throw every caution to the wind just like that? Did he forget he was just one spot away from being number 1? His PR team is going to kill both of you for even thinking this.

As you wait for Bakugou to finish his trip to the comfort room, you can’t help but contemplate the absurd idea. Needless to say, and despite Bakugou’s apparent nonchalance, there’s planning involved.

What are people going to say? If (once) the people from your agency—no, anyone who knows the #2 Prohero, really (which is virtually everyone)—find out, you’re toast. You’re going to be the subject of every tabloid in Musutafu—no, the entirety of Japan and maybe even in some news sites overseas—and you are absolutely not ready for that scrutinization.

And all that over a one-day fake dating stint? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

But the more you think about it, the less foreign and preposterous the idea becomes. You know you shouldn’t even be considering it, but you can’t help it.

Getting dumped by your boyfriend over the phone only for him to reconnect with his high school sweetheart (did they even ever lose touch?) and get engaged five months later was humbling enough, let alone going to his wedding alone?

The first, obvious answer when you first saw the invite in the mail was to not go. But the more you sat on it, the more you realized how pitiful it would be to be a no-show. Was not going wiser than going alone? Probably. But you’re sick of hiding— avoiding—and you promised yourself this year that you’ll be facing your fears head-on.

Chewing your lip in deep reflection, your brain drifts back to the very person who came up with the proposition.

He seemed sure and determined enough—and it wasn’t like Bakugou to not be calculating and to not have everything mapped out, as similar as he can be to a raging bull. He probably has thought about the consequences to the T, in the few minutes of processing your situation, potentially more than you have.

And damn it, the man is attractive.

If there’s anyone you’d bring to your ex’s wedding to make him regret everything he did to you, it would be Bakugou Katsuki. Although you’d never admit it to the man even if you were held at gunpoint.

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil.

You startle at the sound of his gruff voice, abruptly dragging you out of your reverie.

He’s now standing beside you, hands in his pockets and face studying yours closely as if he’s searching for something.

You stare him back down before you finally decide on what to say.

You can’t believe what you’re about to do.

Gulping, you maintain your gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be suggesting it if I wasn’t?”

Fair point.

To your surprise, Bakugou crouches down to regard you and you find yourself directly face-to-face. Despite yourself, you gulp in nervousness at the sudden proximity, and you think he notices because the jackass has the nerve to flash you a smirk.

You furrow your brows in an attempt to regain your composure and any semblance of control over the situation. “And you’re sure you’re gonna succeed as, and I quote, my ‘trophy date?’”

He sneers, although he doesn’t seem to be offended by your challenge. It’s probably because the statement means nothing to him—at this exact moment, the guy is practically oozing with confidence.

Bakugou chuckles, and you find yourself grateful that you’re seated because the next thing he is about to say instantly floors you.

“One thing about me, princess, is that I always win.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii

[celandeline]

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children. 

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable. 

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say. 

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you. 

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder. 

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious. 

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts. 

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries. 

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands. 

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied. 

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less. 

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost. 

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully. 

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even. 

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another. 

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already. 

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone. 

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming. 

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance. 

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone. 

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist. 

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning. 

“Alright.” You say, stepping back. 

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work? 

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone. 

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other. 

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed. 

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable. 

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city. 

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside. 

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you. 

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon. 

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr. 

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.” 

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own. 

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded. 

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears. 

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young. 

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach. 

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom. 

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says. 

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king. 

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge. 

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say. 

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says. 

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze. 

“Where else, then?” Cole asks. 

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath. 

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most. 

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake. 

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon. 

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp. 

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice. 

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder. 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man. 

Still, there is nothing to do but wait. 

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion. 

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside. 

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. 

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut. 

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised. 

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair. 

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window. 

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries. 

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within. 

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall. 

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail. 

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop. 

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward. 

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide. 

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin. 

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth. 

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest. 

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision. 

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you. 

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along. 

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring. 

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you. 

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing. 

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing. 

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own. 

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering. 

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship. 

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach. 

“Of course.” You agree, confused. 

It’s been too long since you last did this. 

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight. 

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears. 

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze. 

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry. 

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say. 

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms. 

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair. 

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress. 

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him. 

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant. 

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons. 

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple. 

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides. 

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you. 

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed. 

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin. 

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again. 

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice. 

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place. 

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side. 

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much. 

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room. 

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say. 

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck. 

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek. 

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will. 

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you. 

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace. 

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent. 

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you. 

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs. 

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning. 

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm. 

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning. 

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired. 

But one cannot simply resign from the throne. 

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan. 

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions. 

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words. 

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company. 

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge. 

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful. 

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice. 

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king. 

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake. 

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face. 

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will. 

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition. 

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. 

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you. 

“As I, you.” You return. 

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

[paddockletters]

secret's out | lewis hamilton smau

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader summary: lewis accidentally reveals his secret relationship with you in an instagram story, sparking fan frenzy. request: yes/ thank you so muchhhh! author’s note:hey anon, i really loved and enjoyed writing your idea! thanks for you request and hope you like it and and sorry it took me too long❤

lewishamilton

lewis' imessage

y/username

liked by lewishamilton, f1 and 2,467,095 others

yourusername: i guess our secret has been reveled bt none other than my husband...

comments...

georgerussell63: you guys definitely made that podium moment legendary. Wishing you both all the best! 💪🏼❤️

danielriccirado: You guys, first you hid your relationship and then your wedding and you didn't even invite us…. I'm hurt

user1: the fact that george is his teammate and he didn't even know that lewis was married 😭😭

user2: ok, we already knew that lewis was very private but this, THIS is another level

charles_leclerc: took you long enough, Lewis! Wishing you guys all the happiness! 🥳

user3: can we just appreciate the casual hard launch AND a kiss on the podium?? absolute power couple energy 💯

user4: he way Lewis looked at you during the podium 😍 He’s been in love the whole time!!

user5: he fact that Lewis called you his wife on his story and we all lost it 🤣🤣 Congrats on your not-so-secret love anymore!

y/username

liked by lewishamilton, f1 and 3,456,955 others

yourusername: this secret and announcement took us less time this last time

comments:

lewishamilton: Can’t wait to meet our little one. Over the moon with you, love

user6: BABY HAMILTON?! Oh my God, I’m crying. This is the cutest news ever!! 😭🍼

georgerussell63: Congratulations!! Can’t wait to meet the future world champ! 🍼🏆

landonorris: BABY HAMILTON??? Alright, I’m officially shook. Congrats, guys! The paddock just got a whole lot more fun! 😂❤️

user7: Lewis is gonna be a dad??? IM NOT OKAY!!! CONGRATS!! 🥺❤️

danielricciardo: A little racer on the way? YES! Can I be the fun uncle? 😎🍼

user8: A podium celebration baby??? 👀 Looks like we know how y’all celebrated that win! 🤭

user9: he timeline is connecting… podium celebration = baby Hamilton?? You sneaky lovebirds! 😂💛

charles_leclerc: Wow, huge congrats!! The grid’s about to get a little bigger 😄

user10: OMG this baby is about to be more stylish than all of us. Already living their best life before birth! 👶🏽✨

Lewis' podium

The energy in the paddock was electric as Lewis’s car crossed the finish line, securing him a spot on the podium for the first time in what felt like ages. I could barely contain my excitement as I watched from the sidelines, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. The moment felt surreal, and my heart raced as Lewis climbed out of his car, a triumphant grin plastered across his face.

As he approached me, still wearing his helmet, I couldn't help but notice the way the crowd erupted in applause and shouts. The deafening cheers seemed to fade into the background as he got closer. “Honey, I’ve done it!!” he shouted, his voice slightly muffled but filled with uncontainable joy.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins made me feel invincible. I laughed, my heart swelling with pride as I reached up to remove his helmet. The instant his face came into view, I felt the warmth of his excitement radiate between us. The crowd’s energy shifted, anticipation crackling in the air as they sensed something special was about to happen.

Lewis leaned down, his eyes locked onto mine, and in that electric moment, he kissed me deeply, right there in front of everyone. The world around us disappeared; all I could feel was the warmth of his lips and the deafening roar of the crowd as they cheered for us.

From that day forward, we became the couple everyone adored. Fans began sharing videos and photos of the kiss, turning it into an iconic moment.

As the weeks passed, our relationship was the talk of the town. But it wasn't long before the news of our little family surprise came to light.

It was late, the dimmed lights in our living room casting soft shadows on the walls as I paced back and forth. The small plastic stick in my hand felt heavy, like it held the weight of the world. My heart pounded as I stared at the two pink lines that confirmed it—I was pregnant.

I had imagined this moment so many times, rehearsing how I would tell him, but now that it was real, my mind was a blur of emotions. Excitement, fear, happiness—everything at once.

Lewis had just gotten home from the gym, his usual easy smile lighting up his face as he stepped inside. He dropped his gym bag by the door, not yet noticing the turmoil in my eyes.

"Hey, love. Everything alright?" He asked, walking over to kiss me on the forehead, his hands automatically settling on my waist. But as he looked down at me, his brow furrowed in concern. He knew something was up.

I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hands on me, grounding me. "Lewis, I… I need to tell you something."

His eyes softened instantly, the worry easing away. He pulled me closer, concern still flickering in his gaze but now mixed with curiosity.

"You’re scaring me a bit, babe. What’s going on?"

I bit my lip, the words almost stuck in my throat. My heart raced as I reached for his hand, slipping the positive pregnancy test into his palm. He looked down at it, confusion crossing his face for a brief second before realization hit him like a wave.

His eyes widened, flicking from the test to me and back to the test again. "Wait… are you serious?"

I nodded, tears springing to my eyes as a nervous laugh escaped me. "Yes, Lewis. We’re going to have a baby."

For a moment, it was like time stood still. He stared at me, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then, without warning, he scooped me up into his arms, spinning me around as a wide, joyful laugh escaped him.

"Are you kidding me?!" He was grinning from ear to ear, his excitement so contagious I couldn’t help but giggle, too. "We’re having a baby?!"

"Yeah… we’re having a baby." I nodded, my heart swelling as I saw how happy he was.

Lewis set me down gently, but his arms stayed wrapped around me, his forehead resting against mine.

"I can’t believe this," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "You’re going to be the most amazing mom, you know that?"

"And you’re going to be the best dad. Our little one’s going to be so lucky." I smiled, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes, his expression soft and full of love.

"This is the best news I could’ve ever imagined. I love you so much."

"I love you too," I whispered back, my voice catching with emotion.

Lewis placed a hand on my stomach, still grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "Our little secret," he said, his voice hushed, as if speaking too loud would make it any less real.

As the initial shock and excitement settled in, Lewis and I spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, talking about everything that lay ahead. The glow in his eyes hadn’t dimmed one bit; if anything, it had grown brighter with every moment.

"I still can’t believe it," he whispered, running his fingers softly over my stomach. "We’re actually having a baby."

I laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder. "It’s real, Lewis. You’re going to be a dad."

"You know, now that I think about it, when do you reckon we… you know, made this little one?" A playful smirk spread across his face.

I rolled my eyes at his cheeky tone. "Really? That’s what you’re thinking about now?"

"Well," he chuckled, nudging me slightly. "It’s not every day you find out you're going to be a dad. I’m just curious." He paused, tilting his head as if considering the options. "I mean, we’ve been busy lately…"

I snorted, shaking my head. "Busy is an understatement. We travel all the time."

Suddenly, realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and I saw the gears turning in his head. "Wait… what about Monaco? You remember? After that podium…"

I froze for a second, my mind flashing back to that night. The celebration had been wild—Lewis had just gotten his first podium in a while, and we were on cloud nine. The champagne, the excitement, the adrenaline… and later that night, when we finally got back to our home…

I fele my cheeks flush. "Oh my God, Lewis."

He grinned like a Cheshire cat, clearly putting it all together. "That’s when it happened, didn’t it? The night of the podium celebration! No wonder the timing makes sense."

I covered my face with my hands, laughing as the memory came flooding back. "I can’t believe this! You’re right. That’s when it happened."

Lewis burst out laughing, clearly delighted by the connection. "No wonder I felt so invincible that weekend. Turns out, we had a little extra reason to celebrate!"

I playfully swatted his arm, though I couldn’t stop laughing either. "We’ll never live this down, you know. People are going to figure it out, and the teasing is going to be relentless."

He shrugged, still grinning like a fool. "Let them talk. They can tease us all they want. As long as I’ve got you and this little one, I don’t care."

I smiled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his words. "You’re such a sap sometimes, you know that?"

He chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "Only for you, love."

As we sat there, wrapped in each other and in the realization of what was to come, I couldn’t help but think about how crazy our journey had been so far. And now, with a baby on the way, it was about to get even crazier. But with Lewis by my side, I knew we could handle anything—even the endless teasing from our friends and fans.

"Just wait until the guys hear about this," he said with a wink, already anticipating the chaos to come.

I rolled my eyes again but smiled. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll never let us forget it."

[riboism]

me and my husband

》 pairing: emperor! k.hj x (f) empress! reader

》 wc: 5k

》 plot: In a cold and ruthless empire, the neglected Empress is trapped in a loveless marriage to a possessive and tyrannical Emperor. When he encourages her to take a lover to occupy her loneliness, she begins a forbidden affair with a kind-hearted gardener, discovering a tenderness she’s never known. But when the Emperor learns of her growing feelings for the gardener, he becomes consumed with jealousy, rage, and betrayal, prompting him to realize his conflicted feelings and take matters into his own hands.

》 content: royalty au, possessive! hongjoong, lots of plot before smut, affair, low key angry sex, cunnilingus, backshots, breeding, creampie, verrryyyy toxic ;)

》 a/n: this is heavily inspired by the Hulu drama, ‘The Great’, and that goddamn hongjoong mv…

🎧 me and my husband by mitski, all mine by brent faiyaz, heartless by the weekend, closer by nine inch nails, why do you love by hongjoong

You paced back and forth in your large bedroom, the quiet ticking from the grand clock slowly maddening you until your patience evaporated. Mingi is exactly eight minutes late. You wouldn’t have noticed his short delay if it was any other night, but tonight you were particularly desperate. It was only a couple of days before you’d start bleeding again, and your body craved to be taken care of. The frustration made you so hot and flushed to the point that you felt it unnecessary to apply any color to your cheeks. 

Exasperated, you fell back into the softness of your bed. Despite his occasional lateness, you had to admit—having a lover had its perks. At first, the idea felt like a betrayal of everything you stood for, a compromise of your values. But Mingi had been nothing short of a blessing. The loneliness of the palace had once felt suffocating, but his presence brought a much-needed light. He listened when no one else would, his warm gaze making you feel seen in a way the Emperor never had. And when words failed, he used his skilled fingers to help ease away your tensions. 

It was the Emperor’s idea for you to take a lover. Yes, you and your husband had sort of a dysfunctional marriage. When you first learned that the young Emperor was going to ask for your hand, you were quickly consumed with giddy daydreams of romance and devotion, the kinds you read about in books when you were just a little girl. You were ecstatic to have his companionship until reality struck you hard and fast. The hastily arranged wedding had barely concluded when you finally met him—a man who was far from the Prince Charming you had imagined. The dreams of a happily-ever-after faded quickly, replaced by the cold, bitter truth. You were merely another pawn in his political game, and he was far too absorbed in his own indulgences to care about yours.

Emperor Kim Hongjoong was a tyrant draped in silk and gold, a man whose cruelty knew no bounds. He ruled with a reckless disregard for his people. While his subjects froze to death in yet another senseless war, he surrounded himself with decadence—hosting opulent feasts that spilled into debauchery and indulging in nights of ecstasy with his concubines. The Court tread lightly around him, knowing full well he was a volatile storm, ready to unleash fury over the slightest inconvenience. Beheadings became as common as whispers in the palace halls, his wrath fueled by whims and dulled by the haze of opium that clouded his mind. Rational decisions—military or otherwise—were a rarity, yet the Court still pushed him toward one expectation: securing heirs to continue his blood-soaked legacy.

You quickly came to understand your place within the palace walls. Though you bore the title of Empress, in his eyes, you were nothing more than a vessel for producing heirs to secure the bloodline and strengthen the Empire.

Intimacy with the Emperor felt like a cold and mechanical ritual devoid of any tenderness or affection. During your ovulation, he would visit your chambers to complete the act, barely sparing you a glance as he did. There was no care or affection—just the unceremonious deposit of his seed before he rose and left without a word. More often than not, you were left lying on your back, alone in the dark, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall as he sought solace in the arms of his concubines. Whatever happened between you two during those nights was never meant to bring any joy or passion; it was simply a transaction, a duty to the Empire.

What stung most was how he never saw you as he did those other women. To them, he gave smiles, laughter, and sometimes even whispers of affection—crumbs of humanity that you yearned for but never received. And yet, despite his cold indifference, you couldn’t help but crave his attention. You told yourself that if you waited, and if you worked hard enough, he might one day change. Maybe, just maybe, he would soften, hold you, and love you the way you had once dreamed.

But with each passing day, the hope grew dimmer. He only seemed to drift further away, leaving you to grapple with the emptiness he left behind.

“I don’t have time,” the Emperor said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shoved the last of his rice into his mouth and rose swiftly from the table. He always ate with such haste in the mornings, as though the very act of sitting with you was a burden he couldn’t wait to escape.

“All I’m asking for is a short walk in the garden. Please, I’m so lonely here. Can’t you spare even a moment for your wife?” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the weight of your desperation.

He adjusted his trousers with a practiced indifference, striding toward the tall, imposing doors without so much as a glance in your direction. Just as he reached them, he let out a dismissive scoff.

“If you’re so bored, find yourself a lover.”

The Emperor had said many cruel things to you before, but this? To suggest such a thing as an affair to his wife? It was beyond comprehension. That very day, you found yourself pacing the palace garden, his vile words echoing endlessly in your mind.

Was he truly that done with you? you wondered bitterly. Did he care so little for you that the thought of you lying with another man didn’t stir even the faintest flicker of jealousy? No, he had encouraged it. Not out of love, but because your presence was a little more than an inconvenience to him. The realization gnawed at you. He treated you with less regard than his concubines, women he showered with affection, attention, and gifts—things you had only ever dared to dream of.

Your sadness was written across your face, too raw to hide, even when the tall, unassuming gardener approached with cautious concern. His voice was soft as he asked if you were alright, his eyes kind in a way you hadn’t experienced in ages.

And it was in that moment, standing before Mingi, that you decided. If the Emperor’s cruelty extended so far as to push you into the arms of another, then so be it. You would take his advice.

—

A loud thud at the door jolted you upright. That must be Mingi, you thought, heart racing as you leapt out of bed. Hastily, you grabbed the bottle of floral perfume on your nightstand, spritzing a delicate mist onto your neck. You smoothed your lacy nightgown and approached the door on light feet, careful to keep your movements discreet—though you knew the palace walls were full of watchful eyes, and rumors of your midnight visitor were no secret.

But the giddy flutter of butterflies in your stomach twisted into a cold, heavy weight the moment you opened the door.

Standing there, framed by the dim hallway light, was not Mingi.

“Emperor,” you murmured, quickly bowing to mask your shock.

Hongjoong’s gaze slid over you like a blade, lingering far too long on the delicate lace of your nightgown. His lips quirked upward in a faint smirk, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. You flushed under his scrutiny, the sheer fabric suddenly feeling like a cruel betrayal.

"All dolled up," he remarked, voice low and taunting. "Quite the effort for someone who isn't me."

You widened the door hesitantly, feeling cornered, as though you had no choice but to let him in. The Emperor stepped inside with an air of entitlement, his presence suffocating in the small space. As he moved further into the room, you instinctively leaned out into the hallway, glancing left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mingi—wanting to warn him somehow.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about the gardener,” Hongjoong said casually as if reading your thoughts. “I sent him away.”

You froze mid-step, the blood draining from your face. “S-sent him away?” you stammered, dread pooling in your chest.

Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, a sharp, grating sound that only deepened your unease. “Relax,” he said, waving his hands in mock reassurance. “I didn’t kill him. Tempting, sure, but no. I figured that might upset you.” His words were flippant, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. The reassurance didn’t land—it only left you more anxious.

Without invitation, Hongjoong strolled further into your chambers and collapsed onto your bed with an exaggerated sigh, as though he owned every inch of the space—and, of course, he did. His dark eyes roamed over you unabashedly, lingering on your bare, glistening legs and then rising to your barely covered chest.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in that nightgown before. Did I buy that?”

You didn’t respond, refusing to acknowledge his comments. Your thoughts were racing, consumed with worry for Mingi. Where was he? Was he safe? What did Hongjoong do to him?

The Emperor sat up, his expression shifting into something more serious. “I didn’t kill your boy toy,” he said bluntly. “I’m simply relocating him. He no longer works at the palace.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Now, sit down.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. The room felt colder, heavier. You wanted to scream, to hurl every ornate wedding gift he had ever given you in his face, to demand answers at the top of your lungs. But you swallowed it all—the anger, the fear—and silently moved to sit beside him. It had been so long since you were this close to him, and you needed a moment to size him up before doing anything rash.

“Why did you send him away?” you asked quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.

“Because I decided I don’t want to share pussy with a lowborn. You couldn’t have at least gone for the Chancellor? He’s always ogling at your breasts. Doesn’t carry much in length, but at least he has status.” He answered offhandedly.

“What?” You flustered. 

Hongjoong threw his head back in exasperation before turning sharply toward you, his expression a mixture of annoyance and condescension. “Everyone in the Palace knows about you two,” he began, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Court has been whispering that your little gardener was falling in love and planning to run away with you. He made a mockery of me. Me. So yes, I had to get rid of him. You should be grateful I didn’t have him beheaded. That imbecile.”

His words left you reeling. Was he telling the truth, or weaving lies to justify his cruelty? It didn’t make sense. He had ignored you for so long, humiliated you at every turn, yet now he took offense when you sought solace elsewhere? And with his permission, no less?

“I don’t understand,” you said, your voice trembling with both anger and confusion. “You told me I could have a lover.”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, the sound grating against your nerves. “I meant a fuck buddy,” he corrected, his smirk widening. “Not a boyfriend. But anyway, I take it back. You can’t have either.”

Hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting every nerve on fire. How dare he? Who was he to take the one shred of happiness you had and discard it on a whim? You rose to your feet, fists clenched, jaw tight. “Bring him back. Now,” you demanded, your voice firm despite the trembling in your chest.

His smirk deepened, his gaze alight with a maddening amusement. He leaned back leisurely, resting his weight on one arm as if your anger were nothing more than entertainment to him. “No,” he said flatly, his arrogance palpable.

The sheer audacity made your head spin. You had always tempered your tone around him, swallowed your words out of respect—or fear—but this was too much. “If you don’t bring him back to me,” you said, your voice rising, “I will leave. And I will never come back.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, though his smirk remained intact. “If you leave,” he said with maddening calm, “I’ll send my men to every corner of this Earth to find you and bring you back to me.”

“Then I’ll jump to my death!” you spat, your voice trembling with both fury and desperation.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head mockingly. “Do you need my assistance opening the window? They’re awfully heavy,” he said, his tone laced with derision.

It hit you then—the futility of it all. There was no winning with him. Every word he uttered, every action he took, was final. Your defiance crumbled as hopelessness set in. Your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor, staring blankly at the carpet.

My Mingi, you thought, your heart aching in the hollow silence that followed. If he had truly loved you, if he had asked you sooner, you wouldn’t have hesitated to run away with him. But now…

A sudden touch startled you. Hongjoong’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek before gently gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He studied your face with an almost detached curiosity, sighing as if your sorrow was an inconvenience.

“Oh, cheer up, dear,” he said, his tone mockingly light. “You don’t need that filthy cock to sit on. You have me.”

The sheer calmness in his voice, the audacious cheerfulness of his words, was infuriating. It gnawed at you, his willful ignorance of your pain more provoking than all his cruelty combined.

You pushed his hand away. “At least that filthy cock could make me cum.” 

You braced yourself for the sting of his hand against your cheek, but it never came. Instead, the Emperor’s lips curled into an amused smirk, as though your defiance was nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him. “Well, If you’d dropped that attitude and let me into your chambers from time to time,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “you might have seen my full potential.”

His words dripped with arrogance, and your stomach churned in disgust. The memories of the handful of nights you had spent with him were distant and cold, fleeting instances of duty you had long since abandoned. After meeting Mingi, you had shut your doors to the Emperor completely, forsaking the obligations of producing an heir as you allowed yourself to be swept away in the warmth of another’s embrace.

“Just get out,” you snapped, your voice brittle with anger and exhaustion.

Hongjoong tilted his head, studying you as though you were a puzzle he was just now beginning to solve. He hadn’t expected this level of fury—at least, not from you. A flicker of realization crossed his face.

“Oh,” he said, a note of amusement creeping into his tone. “Don’t tell me you loved him.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The truth sat heavy in your chest, threatening to burst free. It wasn’t just lust that had drawn you to Mingi; it was the way he saw you, the way he listened, the way he made you feel alive. You cared for him deeply, even when it terrified you, even when the impossibility of your circumstances loomed over you like a storm. There were nights when you dreamed of a life with him, though, they were only dreams, you had to remind yourself.

Hongjoong sighed, a long, dramatic exhale as he leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and venomous. “Oh, you don’t get it, do you, honey?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You can’t be with anyone else. You belong to me. Your mind, your voice, your lips, your breasts, your legs...”

His fingers brushed against the softness of your thigh, a teasing touch that made your skin crawl. His hand lingered there for a moment, as though threatening to move closer, before retreating entirely. “...The very essence of you is mine,” he said, his tone as cold as it was possessive. “And the next time you foolishly find another hard cock to bounce on, remember this: I graciously spared your beloved lowborn this time. I let him walk out of here with all his limbs intact. But next time?” His voice darkened, a shadow falling over his words. “I won’t be so kind.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his threat hanging heavy in the air.

Without another word, the Emperor rose to his feet, smoothing out his clothes with maddening calm. He strode to the door with the same regal air he always carried, pausing only to glance back at you with a mocking bow. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said lightly, as though he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Then he was gone, leaving you trembling on the floor, a hollow shell of anger, fear, and heartbreak.

—

It had been months since your last encounter with the Emperor. Tonight, he was returning from a diplomatic trip overseas. All morning, Courtesans and nursemaids visited to remind you of your wifely duties. They whispered about your dwindling fertility window, urging you to try for a child before it was too late.

You prayed he’d be too exhausted from his journey to come to your chambers. But you knew better. Time away from the Palace always left him restless.

You hadn’t forgiven him for sending Mingi away. Of course, he hadn’t apologized—he never did. Hongjoong likely believed that with time and distance, you’d forget. That you’d fall back into your role, returning to him as if nothing had happened. But the lack of replies from the letters he’d sent you during his absence told him otherwise.

Resigned to your fate, you lay on the grand bed in your best nightgown, the silk clinging to your skin. Waiting. At least it would be quick. The Emperor never lasted long anyway.

The heavy doors swung open, and Hongjoong entered, still wearing his elaborate robe. You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as he began to undress. You braced yourself, mentally preparing for yet another empty, soulless night.

Hongjoong broke the silence. “I take it you’re still angry I took your toy away?”

The arrogance in his voice made your skin crawl. You hated how he spoke of Mingi, reducing him to an object. A plaything. As if you hadn’t cared for him deeply. As if Hongjoong’s own heart wasn’t capable of understanding such feelings.

“Are you going to talk at all tonight?”

You stayed calm, swallowing the retort burning in your throat. “I’m not here to talk, remember? We have a duty to fulfill.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you make it sound so dull. Like we’re here to do paperwork or something.”

You didn’t answer. He busied himself removing his rings, laying them on the table beside you. His gaze landed on a pile of familiar envelopes, all sealed, untouched, and forgotten.

“You didn’t even bother opening these?” he asked, his voice tighter than before.

You sighed, unmoved. “Were they urgent?”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “No,” he admitted, quieter now, “but…”

He trailed off, his confidence suddenly faltering. You had no idea how much those letters meant to him. Each word, each line, was an attempt to ease the guilt that haunted him during his travels. He had replayed the memory of your tears over and over, trying to drown his regret in ink and sentiment. Yet now, staring at the unopened letters, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“You know, you hurt me too,” he blurted.

That caught your attention. You sat up, furrowing your brows. “Me?” you echoed, incredulous. “How? By doing the very thing you told me to do?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Your laugh was sharp and bitter. “Why? Because only you get to sleep with other people?”

Hongjoong scoffed, brushing off your words with a wave of his hand. “What I do is different from what you did.”

“Different?” you snapped. “How? How is it any different?”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you fully. His voice dropped, quieter but seething with rage. “Because I don’t fall in love with them!”

The room fell silent, his words ringing in your ears.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was he more hurt over the possibility that you had feelings for Mingi than the fact that you’d shared nights with him? The absurdity of it made your head spin.

But then he said something that chilled you to the core.

“Seeing you cry over that bastard…” He paused, his voice tight with unspoken pain. “It enraged me. I wondered—would you ever cry for me like that?”

His admission hung heavy in the air. For the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes.

“You must be drunk,” you said quietly, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Come, lay down—”

“I’m as clear-headed as I’ve ever been,” he interrupted, his tone sharp but slightly slurred, betraying the truth. You noticed his steps wavered as he began pacing the room again, the hem of his robe brushing unevenly against the floor.

His words came faster now, laced with frustration and desperation, his worries of masking his inebriation quickly dissolving. “When you married me, you promised me your loyalty. It didn’t matter who you spent your nights with, as long as you returned to me. But instead, you gave him your heart.”

You stared at him, stunned. His jealousy, his possessiveness—it was suffocating. Yet there was something almost pitiable in the way he looked at you, as if your betrayal had cracked something deep within him.

He stopped pacing, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You belong to me,” he said through his wine-stained lips, his voice low and firm. “Your mind. Your body. Your soul. Your loyalty. Your love. All of it. And I’ll be damned if I ever let another man take what’s mine.”

Before you could even digest all of what he said, Hongjoong climbed up on the bed, nestling himself between your legs. Your breath hitched upon feeling the softness of his lips trace over your inner thigh, planting slow and messy kisses all over your soft skin.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked flabbergasted, not used to seeing him in this position. 

His arms wrapped from under your legs, locking you in place. “Showing you my full potential.” 

—

Your body tensed with each flick of his tongue. You held back your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but your sweat coated breasts and your shaky, quiet breaths betrayed you. He held onto your thighs as he tasted you, gliding his tongue in tortuously long and slow strokes. 

When you looked down, you were in awe at his focus, his brows furrowed in concentration, and saliva running down his chin as he savored you like a long-awaited meal. You felt trapped under him. Each time you got closer, he could sense it in the way your body braced itself, and he’d slow down again, ghosting his tongue over your parted folds, making you mentally curse him for stealing yet another rush of relief from you. 

You had reached your breaking point, and although you remained utterly mute, Hongjoong understood your frustration. Like an answered prayer, his tongue swirled briefly around your throbbing nub, before finally wrapping his wine-stained lips over your aching bud. 

As he suckled at your clit, you had no choice but to gasp out loud, your dry voice cracking as he consumed you. He purred into your cunt, smug with himself for finally breaking you. His craving for you grew even stronger, and he pulled you closer to him, his hips now rutting against the mattress. 

“You taste exquisite, Empress,” he breathed into your cunt, which didn’t fail to send goosebumps all over your exposed flesh, “Need to taste your cum next.” 

What felt like hours of edging had finally caught up with you, and your breathing started to get shaky again. Your hands slipped into his dark strands, holding onto them tightly as your hips jerked up, the fire in your abdomen finally snapping as you cried out, your milky white essence dripping onto Hongjoong’s tongue just as he desired. 

You collapsed back into the mattress, your vision blurring as he continued lapping at your sensitive cunt. He drank up every drop from your puffy, tender lips, his hand resting at your stomach to help bring you down from your high. You melted into the mattress as his lips shifted from your dripping cunt to your inner thigh, kissing and biting at your soft skin while he waited for you to steady your breathing. 

You looked down and met his deep, velvety gaze, his glassy eyes and slick-coated lips hitching your breath. In this moment, you took each other in. His once neatly top-knotted hair now loosely hung over his forehead, all roughed up from when you tugged and pulled at it earlier. You were disheveled yourself, your pretty lilac nightdress now sweat-drenched, the loose strands of your hair stuck to your rosy-red cheeks. He watched silently as your breasts which were barely covered by the hem of your dress, most likely hiked up from your convulsions, heaved up and down. 

You were a vision unlike anything he’d ever encountered. He had just returned from a journey that took him across vast snowy peaks and through valleys kissed by the first blush of cherry blossoms. Yet, the sight of you lying here, draped in soft shadows and the moonlight shining in from the window, surpassed the beauty of every natural wonder he’d seen. You were alluring—a temptation so profound it made the grandeur of the world seem pale in comparison.

"So foolish," he murmured, his voice low and thick as he hovered over you now, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin. His face lingered just a breath away, his eyes drinking you in. What he wanted to say—how foolish he’d been to neglect you, to waste time when he should have been losing himself in you—caught in his throat, heavy and unsaid.

Instead, he let his actions speak. His head dipped slowly and his lips found yours, claiming them with a hunger that had been simmering for far too long. You met him with equal fervor, surrendering completely to the kiss and tasting your sweetness on his lips, pulling him closer, tighter, as though you could make up for all the lost time in that single, stolen moment.

“Get on your knees,” He instructed after pulling away from the kiss, a tinge of impatience and restlessness painted in his voice. You obeyed his order, pivoting yourself from your back to your hands and knees. 

His hands gripped your hips eagerly, securing you in place as he lined himself up with you, giving his throbbing shaft a few pumps before sliding into your wet walls. You inhaled sharply as he entered you, his hard cock stuffing you so deliciously that you were forced to make a strangled moan, grasping at the silky sheets from under you to brace yourself. 

You had never been in this position with him before. It was always missionary as it was the best option for ensuring a successful pregnancy, but from this angle, his cock hit you so deep, his balls swinging and smacking into your aching clit as he thrust into you harshly. 

Your loud and lewd screams left Hongjoong teeming with ecstasy. He smirked as he watched you from behind, her royal highness, who was always so primmed and polished, so graceful in the way she walked and spoke, now babbling sinful moans, her makeup running, her hair tousled, covering him with her sticky juices as she cried and begged him to go faster, harder. He felt honored to see you like this. 

The wine made Hongjoong fatigued, and he slowed down his pace, which was a little too slow for your liking. Your brain had already turned to mush, and your hips started to have a mind of its own, forcing you to fuck yourself on his cock to reach your high faster. Hongjoong cooed as he watched you, his cock throbbing at the sight of you taking matters into your own hands. 

“You forget yourself, Empress,” He teased, placing a hand on your mid-back. He caressed your skin, watching your stretched-out pussy take him whole. 

“Just shut up and cum inside me already,” You huffed, your composure crumbling, giving way to raw frustration. 

A spark ignited in his eyes, a glimmer of something untamed and primal seeping through. His weariness evaporated and a renewed vitality coursed through him. He lifted you and pulled you into his chest, his hand sliding around your neck, fingers tracing your pulse before tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Want my cum?” He rasped into your ear, lips smashed against your hot skin, his hips never letting go of that rough pace, “you want it?” 

“Yes, p-please!” You choked, your salty tears falling onto your reddened lips, “Want it all!” 

His grasp tightened around your neck, fucking into you so raggedly now that there was a moment he thought he could break you. “Gonna take it all?” He growled, “All of me in that little pussy? Who’s fucking pussy is this?” 

Your head swam, a dizzying mix of exhilaration and the sharp, intoxicating absence of air. The rush of excitement left you lightheaded and entirely consumed by the moment. 

“Yours!” You cried out, “It’s all yours!” 

With a satisfied smirk, he watched you dissolve in pleasure, finally letting go of your throat as he shot his load into you, a mixture of your wetness and his creamy white dripping out of your cunt. You felt all your strength leave you as you came down, letting yourself be held up by Hongjoong, your head nestled between his chin and shoulder. 

“That’s right baby,” he pressed a few gentle kisses on your sweaty temple as he pumped his cum back into you, pushing deeper and deeper to make sure you don’t waste a single drop of him, “Your mine, all mine…”

a/n: feedback is appreciated

[gojoux]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐇𝐈𝐌 “𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃?”

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta. Inumaki.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

His eyes would light up and a wide grin appeared on his face. “Baby, it would hurt me if we’re not getting married.” He gives you many pecks on your face as he holds you close in his embrace. He’s actually already planning on how he’d propose to you. He’d be giddy at the thought and start pampering you. “I love you soo, sooo much!” as he kisses you with smooching sounds.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

“Of course we can. I’d be a fool if I refused to marry you.” He’d give you that gentle smile of his as he placed a hand on your cheek and caressed your skin with his thumb. “I will marry you, I promise you that.” In his head, he’s thinking of what would your wedding be like, and the thought of you being by his side in an important ceremony makes him happy.

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

A sly smile appears on his face, “What an interesting question, my dear.” He wraps his arm over your shoulder to hold you closer to him and presses a kiss on top of your head. “Why would we not get married? I can’t let you go.” He’ll grab your chin with his other hand to make you look at him straight in the eyes. “No other man will ever marry you except me.”

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation, yet his face remains the same so you’re kind of confused about what he’s actually thinking. “I don’t see why not, love. Marriage is a serious commitment, another proof of our love for one another, and I can’t imagine building a future with anyone other than you.” He already has the ring, he just needs to find the right moment.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

His eyes widen in surprise, he just can’t believe someone would want to marry him, and that someone is you, his love. “You want to marry me?” He asks to make sure if you’re certain. He knows he can’t give you much besides himself. When you assure him, he’ll be so happy like it’s a dream. He vows to himself to take care of you for the rest of his life.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He’d look at you with his usual cool-headed gaze, “That’s a hard request that goes beyond my interests. But if you ask me, I would say ‘yes’.” He answers as it is. For him, marrying you would be easy, but he may not feel like it at the moment, but he also changes his mind easily just for you. He’d rather have you near him and make it official rather than never see you again.

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

He’d never thought much about it, he always assumed he’d end up alone, so it took him a while to answer your question. “There is something about being with you. It makes me feel like I can be comfortable and happy with someone. So, yes, I’d love to marry you.” He looks away shyly but he’s honest with his words. He’d think about it for a long time.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

“Wait, you’re really asking me to marry you?” He points at himself as he stares at you. Don’t get him wrong, he’s actually very happy, just surprised. “Hell yeah! I want to marry you. You'd make my dreams come true. I'd be honored to be your husband!” He lets out a happy laugh and starts suggesting many places to go on your honeymoon.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

You made this boy beyond delighted by just asking him that. “Oh, yes, yes, of course. We can get married!” He nods eagerly. He’s passionate about love, and he’s just glad that you’re on the same page with him that you wanted to get married. He’ll ask what you want your wedding to be like, and all that. He hasn’t bought a ring to propose to you yet, so he’s rather panicky about it.

◈ — 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 🍙

He’s between happy and surprised that it’s making him even more speechless. He nods immediately like he’s going to break his neck and gives you two thumbs up of approval, “Shake, shake!” He’ll treat you like you’re already married, showering you with kisses as he hugs you tight. He’ll keep bringing the topic up, he just wants to marry you as soon as possible.

Uh, helloow, it's been a while 👉👈

[ghost-proofbaby]

foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m getting the watch.” 

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. 

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.” 

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.” 

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them. 

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better. 

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.” 

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now. 

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you. 

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.” 

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine. 

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal. 

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you. 

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?” 

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly. 

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?” 

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it. 

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.” 

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch. 

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.” 

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now. 

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time. 

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you. 

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him. 

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe. 

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely. 

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?” 

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. 

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.” 

“Wait, babe, no!” 

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.” 

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around. 

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it. 

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago. 

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred. 

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?” 

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.” 

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all. 

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because. 

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…” 

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.” 

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime. 

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him. 

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day. 

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder. 

Our wedding. 

It has a nice ring to it. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time. 

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year. 

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted. 

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

[buttercandy16]

In-laws

PAIRING: Dark!Agatha Harkness x Reader, Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: In-laws are the worst and you found out the hard way.

WARNING(s): Dark themes, Non-con, and a whole lot of SMUT!

A/N: Dark themes ahead. If you find these things disturbing I strongly advice that you skip this post. Thank you!

Y/N POV 

The night's cold breeze is crisp on my face as I stand outside the balcony thinking about how perfect my wedding tomorrow will be. 

Nicky and I have been together since my parents started working for his parents. At first, I was reluctant to engage in a romantic relationship with him since in the eyes of society we were unfit for each other, but he was persistent and in the end, I let love win. I was even more thankful that his parents accepted me and my family with open arms despite our lowly status in life. 

After years of being together, we are finally making it official tomorrow as husband and wife. 

I just finished celebrating my bachelorette party earlier which was neatly organized by one of my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Agatha. While Nicky is having his bachelor's party with his set of friends. 

Everything will be perfect, for sure nothing will go wrong. 

"Excited?" I was pulled out from my thoughts when Agatha appeared by my side with a bottle of wine in hand. 

For the record, I'm currently staying at Nicky's house. Both of his mothers insisted that I stay here before the wedding and I agreed.

"Yeah, I'm so excited to get married to Nicky!" I exclaimed excitedly. 

Agatha gave me a chuckle before waving the wine bottle in front of my face. 

"Good, then we better celebrate with this." 

"Ummm... I don't want to be rude, but I'll have to decline. I don't drink alcohol, remember?"

Agatha rolled her eyes at me before she leaned in closer to my ear. 

"Oh come on, sweetheart. That was different, this one we get to enjoy all to ourselves, and I think it's about time you try right? And it's not like we're gonna get wasted, you'll be fine tomorrow. I swear." 

I suppose... 

"O--okay then, but I'll only drink one glass.”

"One glass is enough" Agatha smiled at me mischievously before slightly pushing me inside the room. 

I was a bit nervous about how she was acting, she seemed pushy. But I was fast to dismiss that thought as she filled our glasses with wine. 

She gave me mine before sitting next to me on the sofa, only an arm's length away from each other. 

"Go on" she urged playfully... 

I swirled the wine in my glass slightly before carefully putting it to my lips and tentatively sipping the liquid. I found it delicious and very cooling.

“This is delicious!" 

"Yes, simple but very soothing. Finest wine you can ever have. But, you must drink deeply for the full effect." 

I eagerly did as I was told, and Agatha seemed satisfied with this. Soon I was holding an empty glass. I had drained it and hadn't even noticed. The drink was that smooth. The only problem is that I found that I was still thirsty. 

"Could I have another, please?" I asked, her eyes glinted with something dark from my request. 

"I think that can be arranged." 

Agatha was careful to replenish my glass whenever it emptied as we talked and talked into the night. 

It was quite odd, no matter how much I drink I still feel thirsty. 

I wondered if it was starting to affect me. I noticed that the room was becoming increasingly warm. Worse, I was finding my body becoming uncomfortably warm. My face was becoming flush. My heart was beating very fast and I was practically panting, my breath had gotten so fast. I was starting to sweat inside my clothes, too. My clothes were becoming very confining. How odd, I thought. It was supposed to be a chilly evening. But now, I desire nothing more than to get out of my clothes, then I would feel so much better. 

"Have you and Nicholas done it yet?" Her question almost made me choke on my drink, her eyes never leaving mine. 

Am I hearing this right? Does she mean th--- 

She slowly traced the rim of her wineglass while looking at me curiously, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did you have sex yet?" 

Her question slightly took me aback but answered, nonetheless. 

"N--no, we haven't. I'm still pure" 

The moment I said pure, a shadow seems to pass on her features as the corner of her lips slightly lifted sinisterly, barely noticeable in the dark. 

But I saw it... 

She snickered under her breath as she slightly swirled the wine in her glass. 

That's when I realized that she's never touched it. Not even a single drop. 

She followed my gaze to her wine glass before catching mine. Slightly tilting her head, she then smiled knowingly. 

She knows that I've noticed. 

I was starting to feel uncomfortable from this so I decided that it was time to retire for the night. But when I stood up, I was immediately met by sudden dizziness making me sit back on the couch ungracefully. 

It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of emptiness. I tried to stand again, desperate to leave this room. I swayed for just a moment before Agatha caught me. There was nothing I could do now, and as I slowly slumped sideways, she gently tugged on my shoulder, causing me to lie flat, with my head on her lap. Now all I could see was my fiance's mother smiling down at me… and the world went black. 

_=_=_ 

How long I was out, I’m not sure. I opened my eyes, and it took them a moment to adjust to the light.

Something was wrong. 

My arms could not move, despite my best efforts, and the air felt rather cold on my skin. And when my eyes adjusted, I immediately saw why. My wrists had been secured firmly in two straps, on either side of my head. And the cool air on my skin was because I'm completely naked! 

I tried to scream my lungs out, to shout for help, to do anything that might get me out of this situation. But the only thing that came out was a muffled sound. That has something to do with the gag placed over my mouth. But it did draw some attention to me because a figure suddenly appeared over my vulnerable form, and when it spoke, I heard the unmistakable voice of my fiance's mother. 

"So, you're finally awake" 

"I think before you try going off on one, I should probably introduce you to a bit of "context," I think you'd call it." She reached for the table next to her and picked up a remote. She turned on the TV that was positioned just above the bed I was strapped to. "Let's just say you might want to forget about struggling when I show you this video." 

My confusion made me forget my anger, for a moment. But as the film started, and what I was watching became clear to me, my anger was replaced by shock and horror. 

It was a video of me and my co-worker Tony, sitting in my office, and him kissing me. It had been a professional meet-up, he was showing me some files that we needed to sort out before the big presentation when out of the blue he just kissed me. I froze out of shock while his lips continued to press against mine but when I finally snapped out of it I immediately pushed him off me and gave him an ear-deafening slap on the face. But that wasn't shown in the film. It was just the kiss, making it look like I did it deliberately. I remembered him looking at me in pity like he was sorry for what he did. I didn't tell anyone about it, not even Nicky. And now my soon-to-be mother-in-law possesses proof of it.

But how? Why was there a video? Based on the angle I know it was filmed from a hidden camera. Was it done intentionally? For what reason?! Was she behind it? 

If someone got hold of it, I wouldn't just get fired from fraternizing with a colleague. I would probably lose Nicky as well. 

And that scared me shitless... 

Agatha pressed another button, and the video switched off. She looked at my face, now starting to become tear-stained and the fear now plain for everyone to see. She smiled. 

"I think that expression is a good one for you," she remarked. "It makes you look so sweet and innocent." 

She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but couldn't. The kiss practically seared my skin like molten lava. 

"Now that no one is going to disturb us, how about we get some fun done?" 

Agatha then began to touch me, and that was when I started to squirm a little. She moved her arms around my body, rubbing it in a very erotic way. "Aww… such a nice body, pet! I can't help myself but touch myself thinking about you every day. And now, I can't help myself anymore." She put a hand on my knee and began to gently stroke my leg. 

"What should I do first with your body?" She ran her finger on my smooth skin, before taking the gag off my mouth. 

I gritted my teeth from both anger and sadness. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Didn't I already tell you? I want your body to be mine! We are going to have so much fun, pet. And if you disobey me, I think you already know what will happen right? Not to mention, I can get  both of your parents fired, tsk... that would be unfortunate" 

A single tear ran on my cheek and Agatha kissed it, licking the drop. I know that I have no other choice but to let things happen. I have so much to lose if she doesn't get what she wants. 

She moved around and brought our lips together in a violent kiss, forcing her tongue past my gritted teeth. She bit my bottom lip hard enough to earn a gasp, allowing her to move her tongue past the barrier. 

The tongue quickly found its way around my mouth and explored every inch it could. In parallel to that, her hands moved around and groped my breast. She slightly massaged them and pinched the erected nipples. It was not that the events made me horny. It was the cold that made my body like that. 

The kiss ended after a while, me being out of air while the older woman was looking crazier than before. She licked her lips another time before stripping her shirt, skirt, and underwear away. She moved and kneeled in front of my face, her warmth being right on top of my face. "Eat up!" She said in a commanding voice, but I hesitated. The woman gritted her teeth in anger and grabbed my hair. "I ordered you to eat up!" She forced my mouth to get in contact with her entrance. 

Out of reflex, I attempted to close my mouth, but then felt a pair of forces crushing my head from both sides as her legs pressed me. The pain was enough to make me gasp. She took the opportunity to tighten her grip on my hair and pressed me harder. 

"That's more like it!" She started to move her body up and down, making my juice splash on my face. "Now, get that tongue of yours to work baby" She ordered and once again tightened the grip, forcing me to obey her order. 

I had to stick my tongue forward, forced to have a taste of the older woman. It was sweet and I can't stop myself from moaning from the taste of her. She also moaned at the feeling of my tongue inside her and moved faster until she cummed in my mouth. 

Just as I was about to let go of a sigh, my left leg was lifted, Agatha’s right leg sliding under it. "It is not the end yet! I still have a lot of things I want to teach your body." She pushed her hip forward, making our center meet.

I can't help but admit that it started to feel so good. The pleasure coursing through my veins like a blast of adrenaline... 

She repeated to thrush several more times, bringing our center together and making them part, and then collide again. She started to moan once again as I did the same, her hands starting to play with my breast, enjoying every contact through my body. Until my second orgasm was ripped from me this evening, followed by the beautiful temptress who laid on top of me while catching her breath from her release. 

She looked down on me in complete amusement as I lay helplessly underneath her. 

Agatha kissed the tip of my nose before sliding her warm body over me to reach something on the nightstand. When I saw what it was, my eyes grew wide as saucers... 

Oh no... please no more 

"P--please... I can't. It's too much" 

I struggled with my bonds as I tried to pull myself away from her. 

"Shhhh... I know you can. Just give mommy one more baby. I just need to taste you." 

She settled herself in between my legs, parting them by force. 

She reached between my legs and pushed something. The buzzing vibrator held against my clit sped up a notch, causing my back to arch. "Oh!" I gasped, head falling back. "Oh, oh—" 

Agatha cupped my left breast and mouthed at it, kissing and licking. I didn't know where to look but into her eyes, our foreheads practically touching on the pillow. 

I'm not sure what possessed me at the moment but I was suddenly desperate to taste her lips. 

"Kiss me," I begged. "Please..." 

And she did. Soft and sweet, holding me to her. Tugging my lip with her teeth and stroking my back, my butt. She took hold of my legs, cupping the underside of my knees. Bringing my legs around her waist, she rocked against me, teasing my lip with her tongue. 

I parted my lips for her, tasting her, sighing... Jolting when she tugged on my nipple. "Oh, ow, owie—, please don't—" 

I cried out with pleasure. This was so nice; it felt so good. 

She smiled at me. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, pet,” she said, reaching to touch me, pulling back the hood of my clit so she could rub me with her thumb. I shivered. “Look at this tiny clit. So fucking cute, and all mine…” 

She proceeded to slide down my body until she was face to face with my dripping warmth. 

I gasped when she started to lick me and felt my stomach twitch, surprised and excited at Agatha’s eagerness to please me. I felt her tongue trace the outline of my lower lips and shuddered. A moment later, the older woman finally slid her tongue over my clit, and that's when I felt my walls clenching in a sudden spasm, screaming in pure pleasure for the third time. Due to the intensity, I blacked out. 

_=_=_ 

A groan left my lips when I woke up in the middle of the night with a sore body. 

Slightly stretching, that's when I realized that I was no longer chained to the bed and I was all alone in the room. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to get the hell outta here I immediately grabbed my clothes that were placed on the vanity chair before frantically dressing. 

No longer caring if I was dressed right I immediately ran towards the door but stopped when it suddenly opened, revealing my fiance’s other mother, Rio Vidal dressed in her expensive suit. 

"Ri-rio..." 

"Sweethear, what are you doing here?" Rio asked as she curiously surveyed my disheveled form. 

"Rio, you have to help me, please" I pleaded as I went closer to her. 

"Why? What's wrong?" She asked as she gently held my arm. 

"It's A–agatha, she---" 

"Hello, my love! You're home early," My words were cut off as Agatha appeared from the bathroom only covered by a plush purple robe. "It seems you caught our little bunny trying to hop away." She smiled devilishly... 

Wha-what? 

"Which is quite fortunate, I wouldn't want to miss out" Rio chuckled darkly. "But I'm very disappointed that you started without me, my love." 

"Well, you were late. It's been so long since I wanted a taste of her. I lost all self-control the moment I had her in my grasp. But don't worry, I saved the best for you." 

My eyes widened in realization and I felt my whole body shiver in fear as I heard the door's lock click. Locking me inside with two predators hungry for my young flesh... 

Nonononono... this isn't happening... 

Tears started to fall from my eyes as Agatha walked over to me, and Rio’s hand settled over my shoulders in a tight and almost painful hold. 

Agatha looked down on me with a predatory grin before slowly tilting my chin with her finger to meet her eyes. 

It was so dark and full of lust that it felt like I was about to drown in it. 

"Do you know the real reason why we let our son be with someone as lowly as you? It's because the moment we saw you, we knew that we needed to have you. Our perfect little toy." My heart ached from her words. So after all this time, I was nothing but a fool. 

"So here's what will happen from now on, you will get married to my son tomorrow and officially become part of our family. You will be a good wife to him and grant him the children he desires. But behind closed doors, you will become our pretty little pet and cater to our needs. Do you understand?" I nodded weakly.

"But the most important thing is... Nicky must never know about this little arrangement of ours. This secret will stay with you until you reach your grave, or else... I'm pretty sure you are aware of the power that we hold Y/N, if you go against us, we will destroy you and your loved ones. Do I make myself clear?" Her grip on my chin tightened, emphasizing how serious she was. 

"Ye-yes" I stuttered through gritted teeth. 

Agatha's eyes moved from behind me as Rio pressed her lips to my ear as she whispered... 

"If you behave like a good little girl for us, we will reward you with anything you desire, aside from your freedom of course." 

"Since that's all settled then, I think it's time for the main event" 

"Wh-what would that be?" I fearfully asked. 

Agatha smiled at me before leaning in close, her lips almost touching mine. 

"We're going to take your virginity baby"

_=_=_

Please don't forget to like, repost, and leave a comment below. I love hearing other peoples thoughts about this. Also, if you have any good ideas for a Dark fanfic featuring mother agatha please do send it. Thanks! 💜

[rafecameronssl4t]

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (Aegon is jealous)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: This part has an extra reader/Aemond interaction. Time is skipping from present to past.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: aegon has a cold

- Next part: royal wedding

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995

The Red Keep is unusually quiet this afternoon as you’re making your way through the castle, intending to visit the gardens where you can enjoy the warm air and perhaps indulge in some idle gossip with your ladies. It’s a perfect day for it, or at least, it was until Aemond Targaryen unexpectedly appears in your path.

He stands in the hallway, arms crossed and expression as stern as ever, as if he’s waiting for some important meeting. When his single, icy violet eye fixes on you, it’s clear he has no such plans. You have the distinct feeling that this encounter is as unwelcome for him as it is for you.

“Aemond,” you greet with your best attempt at politeness, offering a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Aemond doesn’t bother with a smile. Instead, he inclines his head slightly, regarding you with that same, unblinking stare that could make a lesser woman wilt. But you’re no lesser woman. “Y/N,” he replies, his voice cool and precise. “I’m surprised to see you without my brother clinging to your skirts. Or did you manage to give him the slip for once?”

You chuckle, deciding to meet his coolness with warmth. It’s what you do best, after all. “Oh, Aegon can’t always keep up with me,” you say with a wink, gliding closer. “He’s busy with kingly duties, you know. Someone has to manage the realm.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, though whether it’s the beginning of a smirk or a grimace, you can’t quite tell. “Yes, I’m sure he’s terribly preoccupied. I imagine it’s quite exhausting, all that lounging about with a goblet in hand.”

You ignore the jab at Aegon’s expense, well aware that this is Aemond’s typical mood—bitter, acerbic, with an ever-present undercurrent of disdain. “Well, he does deserve some rest, don’t you think? After all, he’s got me to keep him on his toes.” You give him a bright smile, the kind that you know Aegon would melt for, but Aemond merely stares at you, as though you’ve sprouted a second head.

“And how fortunate for him,” Aemond mutters, rolling his eye. “I can only imagine what you keep him busy with, though I suspect it involves more idle flattery than sound advice.”

You laugh at that, a light, melodic sound that echoes off the stone walls, but the humor doesn’t reach your eyes. “Oh, Aemond, I didn’t realize you were so interested in my life with Aegon. I thought you preferred to keep to yourself, all stern and serious like some sort of dark knight.”

Aemond’s eye narrows at your teasing, his mouth flattening into a line. “You presume too much,” he says coolly, though he can’t quite disguise the irritation that seeps into his voice. “I have little interest in your affairs, but unfortunately, it seems I am forced to endure them regardless.”

You bat your lashes at him, taking great amusement in needling the typically unflappable Aemond. “Endure? My, my, Aemond, you make it sound as though I’m a burden. Surely you can find some enjoyment in my company.” You place a hand over your heart, feigning a dramatic sigh. “After all, not many get the pleasure of my presence without having to fight Aegon for it.”

Aemond’s expression remains stony, but you catch a flicker of something behind his gaze—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe resignation. “I would hardly call it a pleasure,” he replies dryly, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “More like an exercise in patience.”

You smirk, unperturbed. “Oh, patience is a virtue, they say. And I’ve been told I can be… a bit trying at times.” You lean closer, dropping your voice to a mock whisper. “But I’m sure a serious, level-headed man like you can manage it.”

Aemond’s jaw tightens as he regards you with barely concealed frustration, and for a moment, you think you might have finally struck a nerve. But then he huffs softly, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so begrudging. “You are nothing if not persistent,” he concedes, though his tone remains clipped. “I suppose that’s why Aegon finds you so endearing.”

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious smile. “Is that jealousy I hear, Aemond? Surely you don’t wish you had more of my attention?”

Aemond’s eye sharpens, and he steps closer, looming over you with his taller frame. “Hardly,” he retorts, his voice as cold as the North wind. “I prefer company that doesn’t talk my ears off with false pleasantries.”

You pretend to consider his words, then shrug with a grin. “Well, not everyone can appreciate my charms. But I can assure you, Aegon seems to have no complaints.”

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly done with your banter, but before he can walk away, you step into his path, forcing him to pause. “Come now, Aemond, it wouldn’t hurt you to smile every once in a while. It might even soften that terrifying expression of yours.”

He arches a brow, unimpressed. “Why would I need to soften my expression?”

You give a playful shrug, glancing up at him from under your lashes. “Well, it might make you seem less like you’re plotting everyone’s demise at any given moment.”

Aemond actually snorts, though it’s a dry, humorless sound. “You misunderstand me, Y/N. I’m not plotting everyone’s demise.” He leans in slightly, his voice lowering, as if confiding a great secret. “Only a select few.”

You let out another laugh, genuine this time, and Aemond’s lips twitch slightly, as if even he can’t help but find some amusement in your audacity. It’s brief, but you catch the ghost of a smile before his usual stoicism takes over again.

“Well, as long as I’m not on that list,” you reply cheerfully, stepping back and giving him a mock curtsy. “I suppose I shall leave you to your brooding, then.”

Aemond watches you for a moment longer, as though considering whether to respond, but then he simply inclines his head, his expression settling back into cool indifference. “Good day, Y/N,” he says curtly before striding past you, his coat swirling behind him as he disappears down the corridor.

You watch him go, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Aemond Targaryen might be as rigid as the Iron Throne itself, but it’s almost fun to poke and prod at that iron shell of his. He may endure your company with all the grace of a man suffering a long sermon, but you know he’ll remember every word.

And that, you think with a smirk, is victory enough.

The Red Keep’s dining hall is bathed in the warm glow of candlelight as the royal family gathers for a dinner. The long table is laden with platters of roast meats, steaming vegetables, and freshly baked bread. It’s meant to be a family meal, a time for unity and bonding, but the atmosphere is already taut with the undercurrents of various rivalries and tensions. At one end of the table, King Viserys looks weary, doing his best to keep up with the conversation between coughs, while Queen Alicent hovers nearby, ever the dutiful wife.

You sit comfortably beside Aegon, who is only halfheartedly stabbing at his food with a fork, glancing up every few moments to check on you. But tonight, for once, your attention isn’t entirely on him. Across the table, Aemond sits with his usual upright posture, speaking to you with a surprising degree of politeness, even if his compliments have that sharp edge he never quite seems able to dull. It’s enough to draw your interest, and Aegon can see it.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Aemond says, his tone smooth, “have you ever read the histories of Old Valyria? I find them quite fascinating—the rise and fall of empires, the shaping the bloodlines. Few truly understand the weight of it.”

You smile at him, leaning in slightly, clearly interested in the conversation. “I have, actually. The legends and lore are beautiful, if not tragic. It’s incredible how much history shapes our present.”

Aegon’s grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles turning pale. He glances between the two of you, his mouth curving into a frown that deepens with each word exchanged. You’re supposed to be looking at him, not his self-important little brother. He coughs loudly, just shy of a theatrical gag, as he leans closer to you. “Y/N,” he says in a voice that’s far too loud for the setting, “you remember that story I told you about that time I fought that wild boar on Dragonstone, don’t you?”

You blink, turning your attention to Aegon, who is now staring at you with an intense, almost desperate expression. “Yes, Aegon,” you reply, though your voice carries a hint of amusement, “you’ve told me that story a few times.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit, but he says nothing, instead taking a slow sip of his wine. You get the sense he’s enjoying watching Aegon squirm, though he hides it well. Aegon catches the subtle smirk, and his frown deepens. He isn’t about to let Aemond outshine him tonight.

“But did I ever tell you about the time I caught two wild boars, at once?” Aegon blurts, leaning in closer as if the detail will turn the tide of the conversation. “It was quite the ordeal, really. Very dangerous. Everyone said it couldn’t be done, but I proved them wrong.”

Alicent shoots Aegon a withering look from her end of the table, clearly exasperated with his antics, but Aegon doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s too busy trying to win back your attention.

You give Aegon an indulgent smile, though it’s clear you haven’t entirely forgotten your conversation with Aemond. “That does sound… impressive, Aegon,” you say diplomatically, though you can’t resist glancing back at Aemond, who raises an eyebrow ever so slightly.

Aegon’s eye twitches at your distraction. He reaches for the jug of wine and refills your cup to the brim, his movements overly eager, as if hoping the gesture might sway you. “You know, Y/N, Aemond may know his dusty old books, but I—” He thumps a hand against his chest, nearly knocking over a plate. “—I know how to live. And isn’t that what truly matters?”

Aemond’s expression barely changes, but his single eye gleams with amusement. “Is that so, brother?” he drawls, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “I suppose it takes a certain… perspective to see chasing boars as living.”

Aegon bristles at the veiled insult, his face turning a shade redder than the wine in his cup. He reaches out, draping an arm over your shoulders in an overly possessive manner. “Y/N knows what I mean, don’t you, darling?” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You prefer my company, don’t you?”

You manage to suppress a laugh at the sudden shift in his demeanor. It’s like watching a puppy bark at a much larger dog, trying to prove it’s just as fearsome. “Oh, Aegon, you know I appreciate you,” you say, patting his hand in a way that’s meant to soothe, but your amusement is barely hidden.

Helaena, who has been sitting quietly beside Aemond, looks up from her plate of roasted duck and glances between her brothers with mild curiosity, though she seems more fascinated by the way the candlelight reflects off her goblet than the tension in the room. “Boars can be very tricky,” she muses dreamily, as though it’s a perfectly normal contribution to the conversation.

Viserys, who has been struggling to follow along with the rapid exchange, chuckles weakly, though it’s clear he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. “Yes, yes, tricky creatures,” he mumbles, before lapsing back into silence, his weariness overtaking him again.

Aegon takes the opportunity to press closer to you, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant to sound sweet, but it comes out more desperate. “You see, Y/N? Even the king agrees with me. I know how to keep life exciting.”

Aemond snorts softly into his wine cup, just loud enough for Aegon to hear. “Yes, brother, you’re certainly a master of excitement. Like that time you… fell off your horse at the tourney? Or was it when you set fire to your own cloak trying to light a candle?”

Aegon’s face flushes with annoyance, his grip on your shoulder tightening. “That was an accident, and everyone knows it!” He turns to you again, trying to recapture your attention with an exaggerated pout. “But you don’t think I’m clumsy, do you, Y/N?”

You look between the two brothers, thoroughly entertained by their bickering, and finally take pity on Aegon, though not without letting a hint of mischief creep into your voice. “Of course not, Aegon. I think you’re… very capable. In your own way.”

Aemond raises his goblet in a mock toast. “Yes, to Aegon’s… unique talents.”

Aegon glares at him, and then, as if he can’t think of a better response, leans closer to you, pressing a noisy, dramatic kiss to your cheek. “You see, Y/N, some people might call my talents unconventional, but I think that just makes me more… interesting.”

You try not to laugh, but the sound escapes despite your best efforts. Aemond rolls his eye again, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but he remains otherwise silent, clearly enjoying Aegon’s discomfort too much to intervene further.

Alicent clears her throat, her patience wearing thin as she glares between her sons. “Enough,” she snaps, her voice low but cutting. “This is a family dinner, not a competition.”

Aegon, undeterred, clinks his goblet against yours with a grin that’s more petulant than charming. “To family, then. And to those who know how to enjoy life to the fullest.”

Aemond merely raises an eyebrow, taking another sip of wine, but you can see the faint amusement lingering in his gaze. He seems content to let Aegon claim his small victory, knowing that the real prize is seeing his older brother squirm with jealousy.

You lean back, enjoying the view of the two brothers’ very different styles of vying for your attention, thinking that this family dinner has turned out to be far more entertaining than you’d expected.

[writemekpop]

Stolen Kisses | Na Jaemin

Summary: A drunken kiss at a wedding leads to something more...

Genre: Suggestive, Cutie!Jaemin, Friends to lovers

Word count: >1k

“Oh, I wish I was in love,” you sigh as you watch Jeno and his new wife twirling around the dance floor.

“I know,” Jaemin says, sipping his beer.

“Maybe it’s just the alcohol talking, but I’ll tell you a secret,” you say. "I'm planning to be married by thirty. It's my dream."

“Wait,” Jaemin says, cocking his head. “Aren’t you turning thirty next year?”

You freeze. The ice cubes tinkle in your drink. ”That- that’s not right. I’m already twenty… nine?”

Jaemin rests his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ve got ages.”

You glare at Jaemin. “I’m 29, and I’ve never had a boyfriend! I might be optimistic, but I’m not an idiot.” Grains of heat spread over your face. “Oh my god. I’m never getting married. I’m never-”

Jaemin cups your cheek with his hand, and the movement is so tender that it takes you by surprise.

“Listen to me," he said. "You’re a hotshot lawyer. You’re unbelievably funny. And - let’s face it - you’ve got a smokin’ bod. You could have any guy in this room, right now.”

You smirk. “Any guy? Even that one?” you say, pointing at the muscly bartender.

Jaemin smiles softly. “Oh, please. That idiot? You’re way too good for him. You’re way too good for any of these losers.”

You take Jaemin’s hand and kiss it. His body is still hunched away from you, but his eyes flash to meet yours, sideways. He grins like the two of you are sharing a naughty secret.

That look.

Tingles run over your body. Jaemin has given it to you before, but tonight, there’s a hint - just a hint - that it means something more.

You loosely let go of Jaemin’s hand, your fingers run up his arm until you’re clutching his shoulder. Both if you are breathing unevenly. Somehow, your bodies have gotten close. You can smell him.

“Do you… feel…” you start to say, but trail off.

“Yes,” Jaemin says. “Do you…”

”Yes,” you reply, before he can finish.

“We’re just drunk, right?” Jaemin says, his voice trembling. “That’s all this is?”

You pause, considering whether or not to say the answer that jumps to your mind. It is not the safe option.

“I’ve never been more sober in my life,” you say.

Jaemin blinks, then replies, “Me neither.”

That’s when your lips meet his. At first, the blood in your body springs into overdrive. Alarms crash in your head. You’re kissing Jaemin! Your best friend! But then you sink into the kiss, enjoying the coolness of his lips, the way they give into yours entirely.

You feel closer to Jaemin than you ever have. It’s like you’ve become one person with two hearts.

You draw back, panting. Jaemin struggles to act normal after your kiss, and you love it. Finally, he gives up trying, and a dazzling grin breaks out on his face.

“There we go…” you sigh, acting like you’re embarrassed of him.

“What? Can’t I celebrate? I just got kissed by the prettiest girl in the room!” Jaemin says, swinging his arm around your shoulder.

You glare at him.

“Sorry! I mean the most beautiful woman,” Jaemin corrects.

You fight a smile. “That’s right. You better treat this woman good.”

Jaemin lowers his head gravely. “It will be my solemn duty.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[nana-gumi]

my heart belongs to.. who? g.satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of cremation, depression, starvation, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of self-harming, please read at your own risk!! NOT PROOFREAD AGAIN HELP (i'm sleepy alr but i want to update TvT)

a/n: here's the part two of the 'anyway, don't be a stranger.' yes the title has changed. also based from a song a piece of you by nathaniel constantin. that's all, enjoy reading ;) PLS NOTIFY ME IF YOU HAPPEN TO SEE TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS!! THANK YOU <3

now that you had lost your only strength to continue living, what should you do now?

prev | next

satoru doesn't know why something in him ached when he randomly spotted his best friend, his dear best friend, suguru with you, on a random place and at a random time.

your backs were turned to him but he surely didn't like the way you cling to his best friend, it hurts him in many ways he couldn't explain but, satoru knew too well that he doesn't have the rights to feel that way, that's because every pain and sorrow that has happened to his life would be different if he didn't do that one big mistake.

ever since the divorce, satoru never saw you again. you left and none of the people you knew where you've gone to. satoru thought it was for the best that you should be away from him because the moment he feels vulnerable again, he would look for your presence, even though you weren't together anymore.

although sometimes, satoru do hope that you didn't run away from him. he wanted to fix everything, to apologize, to try things with you again. he never wanted anyone other than you. you were the only person that could see his other sides, the only person who knew him very very well, the only person he wanted to grow old with but everything was too late already.

he shouldn't have listened to you when you pushed him away and there, he would've never saw the pain look in your face when both of you separated your ways, he would've never saw the way you tried to stop yourself from crying infront of him, and he would've never saw the way you accepted to keep your wedding rings so desperately as if he would still be around you if you keep it.

satoru regretted every decision he made up until now, it was all of his fault, it was his fault why you had to leave, everything was his fault, you didn't have a choice because of him and he hoped that you've already forgave him for that. he really hoped so.

because of the heavy thoughts, satoru didn't know why his feet brought him to his best friend's apartment. maybe to ask how you were doing? are you still single? do you have a new lover now? was it suguru? are you both dating? oh gosh, he hoped not. it could be anyone but his best friend.

"(name) trusted you with it suguru, you shouldn't break your promise." satoru suddenly stopped on his tracks. that was shoko's voice, he was sure of it.

"but, don't you think he still has the right to know? satoru's the father after all."

"you're right though but—"

"what did you just say?" both eyes were widened at the sudden appearance as satoru revealed himself from hiding as he went closer to his best friends.

"when did you—"

"i'm the father? what do you mean?" satoru asked as he furrowed his eyebrows and suguru looked away from him. satoru could recognize the worried look of his best friend's face. "shoko?"

"well.." she mumbled, looking at suguru.

"are you hiding something from me?" satoru asked.

"it's not like that—" shoko said.

"then why do you both look nervous?"

"satoru." suguru called as he felt shoko's hand stop him and she shake her head left to right. "i'm sorry, but he needs to know."

"needs to know what? come on."

"satoru, you had a child, with (name)." and he couldn't be more surprised as he looked at suguru, lost and confused.

"what?"

"yeah, unfortunately, sanyu is—"

"stop." satoru said as he placed a hand on his temples. "is this some kind of prank? therefore, it's not funny."

"satoru, i'm not lying." suguru said, his expression blank.

"no. that's— that would be impossible.."

"go talk with her, satoru. heh, in the end, i couldn't keep my promise to her, huh?" suguru said as he placed a hand on his nape. "i'll send you the address, go." and satoru didn't waste any more time as he walked towards the front door but suguru stopped him again. "satoru." he called and suguru almost laughed at the worried and somehow excited look on his best friend's face. it's been a while since he saw that.

"what?" satoru said, cleary annoyed and impatient as suguru lightly smiled at him.

"be gentle with her, she's still vulnerable." satoru didn't get what suguru meant by that as he finally left, following the map where suguru had sent him.

you knew this day would've eventually come as you stand face to face with your ex-husband, he was panting and you were just about to go back home from the convenience store.

"(name).." he whispered your name as he took a step close to you, another one, and then another one as he started sprinting, embracing you in his arms and no one knew how much he missed feeling you around his arms. you let him embrace you but you stopped yourself from doing the same thing, you just stood there.

"why are you here?" you asked as satoru pulled away, his sleeve flying on his eyes as he slightly rubbed it. he was about to tear up.

"is it true?" satoru asked and he hoped you get what he meant with the question as you slowly nod your head.

"let's go inside my home first. it's getting cold here. i'll tell you everything there."

and there both of you ended up inside your home as satoru quietly inspected the surroundings. there was your picture and his son hanging on the wall.

"here." you said, handing him a glass of water. "i'm guessing suguru told you?"

"no. i actually overheard them."

"i see."

"so, where's.. um— can i see our child?" he asked and your heart ached at his question. you thought suguru told him already?

satoru didn't know what to do you when you started sobbing as you covered your face with your palms.

"you can't." you mumbled, wiping your tears as you look down on your lap.

"i understand.. but if you're—"

"you can't, satoru. we can't—"

"i know. i know you still don't trust me but i promise i will—"

"he's gone, satoru! don't you understand it? he's gone, he's dead, we can't see him anymore!" you exclaimed. everything was just overwhelming and you didn't mean to yell at him. "i'm sorry." you mumbled, once again, covering your face with your hands as you cry.

you felt his presence beside you as he wrapped his arms around you. he didn't know what else to do and satoru thought being close to you will help, being close to you will maybe help his almost shattering soul.

"i'm sorry." satoru said as he felt your arms around him. was this suguru meant when you were still vulnerable. he should've asked suguru to be more clear so there, satoru would know how to comfort you very well.

"i'm sorry, satoru. i kept him away from you when he wanted to see you. i should've pushed aside my own feelings and let sanyu meet you but i just couldn't, and now guilt is eating me up. it's my fault he couldn't see his papa on his last days. it was his last wishes but—"

"shh, stop it already. it's okay. don't blame yourself."

"i'm really sorry." no. satoru told himself he doesn't deserve your apologies and thinks everything was his fault to begin with.

"it was my fault that i couldn't be there for you. for our son. i deserve all the blame." satoru said as you slightly pulled away from him as you wiped your tears.

"it's not your fault either. sanyu was born with a weak heart. i couldn't protect him with that, no?" you said as you placed your hands on your lap.

"when we met at the parking lot, was that?.." you nodded your head in response as you recalled that day.

"that was the day after sanyu died." you mumbled and satoru couldn't help but clench his jaw. if only he knew.

satoru snapped out of his thoughts when he felt you sit up from the couch as you kneeled infront of the small table, taking something beneath it as you went back beside him.

"come, i'll show you his pictures." you said as you smiled at him and satoru couldn't help but mirror you. just for now, maybe you both could be happy, even just for now.

-

"he even cut his own hair, look!" you exclaimed, pointing a certain picture as satoru laughed with you.

he missed a lot things. when you were carrying his child, when his son was born, when his son was growing up. he wasn't there to witness everything and he almost– no, he regrets it so so much.

"i almost dyed his hair black 'cause he reminds me of you so much." you sighed as you closed the album, finally reaching its end as you place it on the table.

"we really do look like each other." satoru said as you lightly smile at him.

"you're not wrong." you responded and suddenly, it became silent.

"i'm sorry (name)." he started as you stayed still in your position. "i tried looking for you." he continued as he held your hand on his with you still avoiding to look at him. "why didn't you tell me before?" he said and that's what made you look at him. is he seriously asking you that?

"i don't know, satoru. do you?" you asked and he was completely taken aback.

"you should definitely go home now, someone might be waiting for you.." you said as you stand up from the couch, only for him to stop you by your wrist.

you looked at him for a moment and he did too. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as your hand slowly slipped out of his grasp and you turned your back at him.

"if you want to know more about sanyu, just ask."

it's been a week since you and satoru talked things out. it felt good to be able to talk everything with him. you thought at some point that satoru will hate you even more for not informing him about his son's existence but it was the opposite.

and maybe, you shouldn't have stalked his social and there you wouldn't stumble on his ex' account, because you never knew that it would hurt you this much, that it would hurt your already, broken heart.

you felt some type of jealousy seeing his family be happy in those pictures. they even went on a trip, on different places and many more. satoru looked happy. maybe if those mistakes were prevented back then, it would be you, him and sanyu.

there were missed calls and unread messages from suguru and shoko but you didn't have the energy to reply to each of them.

you just wanted to lay in your bed all day, almost wishing that sanyu would knock at your door asking for a help with his assignment, but no, it wouldn't happen anymore. you were all alone now, you'll never be able to feel happiness again, everything felt too empty for you to feel any type of emotions except for sorrow.

-

your eyes slowly opened when you felt something cold in your forehead.

"you're finally awake."

"what happened?" you asked as you tried to sit up from the bed, only for satoru to push you back.

"don't stand up yet. you passed out on the living room. you've been sleeping for a day already. are you eating? don't starve yourself." he talks too fast that you almost didn't catch his words.

"why are you here?" you asked.

"well.. i guess i want to know more about sanyu." he said as he hesitantly looked at you. "i'm sorry for walking around your house without your permission but, i saw a small shrine on the room beside here. is that sanyu's?" satoru asked as you nod at him.

"i forgot to tell you but i had sanyu cremated."

"okay, i understand."

"you can visit him anytime if you want."

"that would be great. thank you."

satoru did visit once a week. you noted that it was always on thursdays, just like suguru had told you that satoru's always available on thursdays.

your house would be messy if satoru wasn't around but if you knew that he'll be visiting, you'll force yourself to clean the house. you didn't want him to see you in worst state again, not anymore. he didn't have to know that you were starving yourself, that you would only eat when he brings you food.

he doesn't need to know. not that he would care, right? satoru is not in the position to care for you after all. he only visits for his son, it's wasn't because of you. maybe you should stop being delusional and face the reality that satoru and you couldn't work together anymore. he already has a family on his own. he has nothing to do with you anymore. a part of you is still hoping though but then again, he doesn't need to know.

there was a time where satoru visited you on tuesday. it was unexpected that he caught you almost hurting yourself. house and room messy.

it hurts him to see you like this. he couldn't help but to compare the old you to the you now. a big difference. he doesn't see you smile anymore. he doesn't hear your laugh anymore.

"you needn't to hurt yourself, okay? tell me if i can help in any way." he said as you sit on the couch, knees close to your chest as you stare at nothing.

your thoughts was playing with you because all of the sudden, you recalled everything that has happened between you and satoru. his mistakes, his wrongdoings, his happy family. your blood started to boil and you couldn't help but blame him in your mind. that it was his fault why sanyu have to suffer.

"hey, i know it still hurting you but—"

"you know nothing!" you exclaimed which took him off guard. he was unfamiliar with that look in your face.

"(name), calm down." he said as he tried to reach for you, only for you to slap his hand away.

"shut up! don't order me around! can you just leave my house?" you yelled. "this is all your fault." you mumbled and satoru heard it loud and clear. you weren't wrong though. "leave! i don't want to see you anymore. i hate you."

-

and even if you push him as many times as you want, satoru would not lose hope. he still visits you and sanyu. though he took note of the changes in your mood sometimes.

satoru visited late than usual. you already fell asleep on the couch. you swore you weren't waiting for him or something. it just happened that you got tired from the cleaning the house.

after the usual visit of you and satoru in your child's room both decided to eat the food he brought.

"sorry i was late. i had a hard time choosing a ring—" he cuts off himself with a fake cough as he looked away from you. "anyway, sorry for making you wait."

"it's fine. thank you for bringing me food."

"of course."

today, you seemed a lot more good now. satoru can notice you smile everytime. he didn't want to assume that you're smiling because of him though.

"is there something wrong?" he asked when he noticed you staring at him.

"i'm fine. thank you for visiting." you said as you walked satoru at the front door. "oh wait." you said, walking back to your room as satoru stood still on the front door and you went back after a minute.

"take this." you said, handing him a certain necklace.

"for me?" satoru said, taking the necklace in your hand.

"i asked them to put a little bit of sanyu ashes inside. you can't open that anymore since they locked it." satoru's eyes widened at your words.

"thank you." he said as you smiled at him.

"here, let me help." you said, as you wear the necklace on him. "sanyu will always be by your side, wherever you are." you said as you smiled and suddenly, satoru turned around, his face was too close to you and you think he could almost hear on how loud your beating heart is.

you awkwardly took a step back as you cleared your throat to ease the awkward tension.

"thank you (name), really. i will treasure this." he said as you smiled at him, for the last time.

"sorry for yelling at you sometimes, satoru."

"don't worry, i understand. just let me know if you want to release some stress. i'll try my best to help." he said and despite of answering, you only smiled, again.

"thank you, satoru. sanyu was the best son i could ever have." you said and he suddenly placed a hand on your head. like how he always does before as he leaned to your level.

"thank you for raising our child." he said as you look at him with widened eyes and you couldn't help but frown as you place a hand close to your chest.

stop giving me false hope, satoru.

"take care." you couldn't help but tear up as you whispered those words as satoru left. be happy, always. even if it's without me.

"i had a hard time choosing a ring." you mumbled, mimicking his words.

you smiled but what you were feeling inside was opposite. maybe you shouldn't expect too much because in the end, if reality didn't reach your expectations, it'll just hurt you more.

it really hurts to think that you made a man for another woman but, it is what it is. you're just glad that satoru seemed to cherish his new family now.

he did changed a lot, huh.

"satoru."

"be quick, suguru. i'm a bit busy right now." satoru said as he heard his best friend sigh at the other line.

"did (name) said something to you?" satoru immediately sat properly on his office chair when he heard your name.

"nothing much. she gave me a necklace though, why?"

"i see. look, if you have time today come in her house."

"why? what happened?"

"do you have a time today, at least?"

"i guess i could try." satoru said. "is there something wrong with (name)." satoru asked and there was a long pause from suguru's end before he answered.

-

satoru went back from what it seemed like a long trip as he sat on his office chair.

he stared at a certain velvet box on his table. his black glasses was discarded as he lightly move the office chair left to right.

he did had a hard time choosing a ring. he doesn't know of you still like the same design. did you change your preferences?he doesn't know that's why satoru bought a limited edition ring for you. he was told that the ring brings luck and now he just wanted to throw the ring in the middle of an ocean.

"brings luck my ass." he muttered. he was too tired to think. he refused to believe suguru's words because he just saw you 2 days ago. was suguru playing pranks on him again?

"she's been found in her room. unalive." suguru's words kept repeating inside his head like a broken radio as he clutched the necklace on his hand.

he was supposed to ask you to start over again, to try things out again, from there, he swore that he wouldn't do the same mistake again but it was all too late now.

maybe the universe didn't want you and him to be together again that's why they took you away from him, his son too. he knew he did mistakes back then but was it too much that they have to take his family away forever?

yeah, this must be his punishment for doing those unforgiving things to you.

-

"suguru, do you think (name) would agree if i ask her to start over again?"

"there's nothing wrong with trying, satoru, but know that people tend to change. don't be surprised when she doesn't want you in her life anymore." suguru said as his best friend kept quiet. "but what about them?"

"who?"

"your ex and your son."

"i couldn't care less about her, but i still cherish sanyu since he grew up with me, even if he's not my legal child."

"you don't really want to tell (name) about it?" suguru suggested and satoru couldn't help but think if he could do what his best friend is suggesting.

"what's the point? will it change everything?" satoru mumble, an ache going straight to his chest. "it hurts for me to say this but i only accepted to raise sanyu because i couldn't stop thinking of (name), of having a family with her. i forced myself to believe that he's our son. i didn't even know that (name) is actually carrying our child."

"why don't you just sue your ex for paternity fraud?"

"there's no point in it. she's still sanyu's mother."

"you're too nice, satoru."

no, he wasn't. in fact, he almost sent his ex to prison but he couldn't stop thinking of how sanyu will react if he found out that his mother was sent to jail by his father. he was too young for those things.

but satoru asks himself, why? why does he have to do these things? why does he have to think of how sanyu would feel? they weren't relatives anyway. he could take everything he spent for raising sanyu, he could just leave them to live their own life, but he just couldn't do it.

"if only i could go back in time." satoru mumbled and suguru didn't know what do respond to that anymore. if only.

tags: @skylarlyn823 @mo0nforme @mor-pheus @he4rts444mi @bubblysunwoosworld @arieltate @imaniitheoneee @kaiiriiis @ichikanu @witchbybirth @yoimiya-m @hojoslutoru @itsvalomfg I COULDN'T TAG THE OTHERS SORRY TvT

[bluejutdae]

Dom han... him being your bff and like being all touchy with him,and him being a literal girlfriend for you till you realize he is more manly then you thought let him fuck my brains out pls💕...DOM HAN JISUNG BRAINROT FOR ME YALL

-🫶 a request from me perheaps?...😃❤️❤️

Sometimes I can’t let go of an idea, so here’s soft dom Ji. Very soft, but you know that think about writers not being in control of their stories? Yeah. That.

Happy belated birthday, love 🫶

Posting without much editing because I am very tired and I have a wedding to attend to tomorrow. Sorry for any mistakes.

You and Jisung have been dating for about a month, after an eternity of flirting. Despite all the dates, the movies spent cuddling and your hands constantly on him, you still haven’t had sex. You both agreed on waiting. It wasn’t a question of inexperience, but more of a mutual understanding that you wanted to build a solid relationship first.

Tonight is just another night in which you’ve been invited to watch a movie with all the members. You love seeing Jisung surrounded by his friends, he’s always particularly happy, completely in his element. He’s so calm and relaxed, you spent the last 30 minutes braiding his hair and playing with it.

Seungmin’s voice is louder than the tv’s when he says, “is he always this soft or is it just when he’s with her?” They all laugh and everyone adds his own comment on the matter. The only non-teasing one comes from Felix and you. You know your boyfriend is a soft boy, you never had a problem with that. Jisung grins, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. “Don’t you wish to know?” he teases back and makes a show of sticking his tongue out to Seungmin. But when he turns back to look at you, there’s something in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before, that sends a shiver down your spine, and makes your pussy clench. What the fuck was that?

The rest of the night passes uneventfully, but you can’t shake the feeling that you awoke some beast or something. Something that was simmering just below the surface.

When the night ends and you both return to the quiet of your tiny apartment, the playful atmosphere from earlier seems to be just a distant memory. Your usual sweet and cute boyfriend is not looking at you with a new expression, with something you can only describe as lust.

“Do you think that, too?” He asks in a low voice.

“Think what?”

“What Seungmo said earlier, that I’m soft.” As he says that, he removes his rings, putting them in the pockets of his jeans.

You swallow, suddenly feeling very aware of the quiet of the night surrounding you, the only light really illuminating the room is the one from the streetlights, penetrating through your windows. “I mean- you are soft with me.”

“I am, am I?” He steps closer and he’s now just a few feet from you and you seem to be frozen, with your ass against the kitchen counter. “You know that’s not all there is about me. Right?”

“I mean-” there have been instances in which you think you saw something less soft and more… horny. But you thought it was just that: arousal. Yes, you decided to wait, but it doesn’t mean either of you ever wanted more. And just as some night ended with you with your hands inside your underwear, imagining your fingers were Jisung’s, you expect some of his ended in a similar way. “I don’t really know?”

The intensity of his gaze sends a thrill through you. He finally closes the distance and uses his fingers to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Do you want to find out?”

Your nod is all that he needs before pulling you to him to kiss you. The kiss is a demanding one, nothing like the lighter kisses you are used to. His hands grips your waist, pulling you against him even more. When he pulls back (not without a complaining noise from you) his breath is warm against your ear. “I’ve been wanting so much to have you.”

You make it to your bedroom, mouth or hands never leaving the other’s skin, shedding clothes during the slow march. Contrary to so many other times you kissed him, there’s a certainty in his movements, a loud confidence that makes your skin hot and your pussy wet.

His hands slide up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and he guides you down on your bed. He follows you down, covers you with his body and kisses you again, softer this time. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he says on your lips, and then starts his slow and maddening way down your neck and towards your chest. His mouth, hot and wet against your skin, is perfect. Every now and then his teeth graze your skin, making you moan. When he finally reaches your tits you hold your breath, anticipating the wet hot sensation of his mouth, but he smirks and makes you wait, teasing you. “Is my baby impatient?” Before you can answer he takes your nipple into his mouth, lightly pinching the other between his fingers.

He gives your tits his whole attention, alternating between sucking and gently biting, pinching and massaging. After yet another request of speeding things up, he begins to move lower. His hands trace the lines of your waist and your hips, ending their descent on your thighs, gently spreading them apart. “Look at you. You look so good I could eat you alive.”

“Sungie.” He smirks again, one raised eyebrow pressing you to ask for what you want. But his mouth and hands made a mess of your brain, so you just beg again in the form of his name. He chuckles at your behavior. “Already such a mess? Be patient, my baby”

He lowers his face to nips at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, following with his tongue in lieu of an apology. When his mouth finally gets on your pussy and Jisung starts to eat you out like a starving man, you let out a loud moan and your hands grip the sheets as his tongue flicks out and presses on your clit.

He finds a rhythm and your pleasure builds and builds with every stroke of his tongue. You push his hair away from his eyes and his eyes are set on you. Anytime he sucks on your clit you let out a loud and filthy moan, so he keeps on doing it until you cum, one hand gripping the sheets and the other in his hair, pulling a little (a lot) making him moan around your most sensitive nerves. He keeps working his mouth through every aftershock until you are boneless, panting beneath him and blabbering nonsense.

He pulls back and travels his way back to your lips with his. The kiss tastes of you and him, and it’s heady. He chuckles when you compliment him, blushing like he didn’t just eat you out like a starving man. “Everything for my girl.”

The night is still young for you two, and as you get ready to repay the favor, you feel your love for him grow a little. Waiting for this was worth the wait.

His voice breaks through your thinking, stained with arousal and something else. “You’re mine, you know that?”

You nod, lips kissing his skin, getting close to his hard cock inch by inch. “Yeah. And you’re mine.”