#but regardless i was mortified | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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foldingfittedsheets · 3 months ago

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Sometime around eight or nine my best friend and I learned about hickies. I suspect he’s the one who learned it and shared it with me. We were both utterly fascinated and on a dare I sucked mightily on my own upper arm to give myself one.

This was great fun, self made bruise. Hilarious.

But looking at the mark later I thought that perhaps it might be best to bandage it lest any questions crop up. My parents were often suspicious of my friendship with the boy across the street anyway, and I had a vague inkling that perhaps hickies might fall under the vaguely looming topic of Sex.

So I put a bandaid on it.

I’m not sure if my mom was suspicious regardless but as I was getting out of the shower a day later she popped in and spotted my unbandaged mark. The handle was flown off. She was a creature made only of yelling. She demanded to know where it had come from.

I told her I’d done it myself. She scoffed and said I couldn’t even reach that place on my arm. I put my mouth over the mark. She escalated her volume to ask why I’d hidden it if it were nothing and I gestured vaguely to encompass her irate direction. She did not care for that or believe me, but the discussion was tabled.

Tension simmered in the house. A few days later it was a weekend and I asked if I could stay over at my friend’s house. To the bafflement of my friend and I our parents were increasingly hesitant to allow this childhood bonding. If he’d been a girl there would be no issue but he was a boy.

It didn’t seem to matter that we were both children and that my menstrual cycle would not arrive for several more years. Or that a boy was safer from me than many female friends would be on later sleepovers. The constant jokes we both loathed from both sets of parents that someday we’d get married now seemed ominous.

There were phone calls. The sleepover was reluctantly agreed to. I packed up my pillowcase with all the stuff I’d need for the night and headed toward the door. My father stopped me.

He insisted I sit down. I sat.

He stuttered, “Now. You’re like. Ah. A flower. And your friend is a- uh. A bee. And bees will sting you- uhm- if they can so you need to use- uh- protection- from stinging.”

I was nine. I had no fucking idea what was going on and my dad was not really helping. As he rambled I slowly started to intuit that this was about S-E-X and was very probably the result of my hickey but I had no idea how to make him stop talking.

I will never understand why it was my father giving this talk in the first place. My mother had previously worked in a sex shop and phrases like, “Make sure to use lube, you don’t wanna rub it raw down there,” were a common part of my youth. My father meanwhile turned red as a beet and stammered at any mention of Sex.

He finished his mortifying and confusing talk with, “Don’t tell your friend about this talk.”

The door closed to my friends room and I immediately told him about it.

We were both utterly horrified at the thought of each other as anything more than frenemies. We fought, we played games, we set off fireworks. Why did adults need to taint that?

But tainted it was.

Both sets of parents continued to radiate an unwholesome suspicion about our friendship now and we never brought up the topic of sleepovers ever again. It is a source of tremendous amusement that despite all their worry over our relationship my friend and I both turned out gay.

#ffs foibles #childhood #story #writing #funny #birds and bees #story time

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cregansdingdong · 4 months ago

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imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

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That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#dingdonganswers #hotd #house of the dragon #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark smut

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bbydoll18xx · 5 months ago

Text

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 4)

Paige makes you feel so good.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Themes: hella smut this is actual filth, little bit of cuteness if you squint

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A/N: hiii sorry this took so long lol I've gotta stop writing multipart fics because i procrastinate too much but i turned down a date so i could write this so I'll be sad if this flops PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I'M BEGGING

The tension was palpable, as you sat next to Paige on her couch. Her eye contact was enough to make you want to shrink away, but you held firm, straightening your spine with a determined force. The smirk on her face sent a shudder through your entire body, and the anticipation of Paige’s hands on you made you wet instantaneously.

She reaches out to touch you, her fingertips ghosting across the exposed skin of your upper thigh where your shorts had ridden up. The sensitive skin blooms with goosebumps as she does so, and your head spins at the contact. You were getting drunk on it, and the real deal was yet to actually begin.

Paige chuckles as you let out a puff of air, overwhelmed from how her touch affected you, and you blush.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Know you’re probably used to girls who know what they’re doing.” Your insecurities were coming to a head once more, the reality setting in that books could only prepare you for so much. And as you sat before someone as enigmatic and beguiling as Paige, it was the tiniest bit overwhelming.

Only a tiny bit, of course.

Paige shrugs, her eyes bright with excitement. “Don't be sorry, baby. That's why I’m gonna teach you,” she adds with a wink and a huge grin, and the rolling in your stomach subsides.

Her nonchalance soothes you. She wasn't someone you could hide yourself around, as she beckoned towards your most inner self, pulling it out and appreciating it regardless of anything or anyone.

You nod, eyes still trained downwards at your hands where you were meticulously playing with them, rubbing them in a way that is not unlike Paige’s infamous “rizz hands.” She tuts at this, taking your hands in hers and then using the other to gently lift your chin to meet her eyes.

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta use your words,” she says, words husky and dripping with a soft dominance that had your insides purring.

“Okay,” you whisper, fighting the urge to look away from the heat of her gaze. The blueness of her eyes was hypnotic, and it was easy to get lost in them.

“That’s my good girl,” she praises, moving her hand from your chin to the side of your neck, holding it in a way that had you holding in a moan, as she stroked the delicate skin with her thumb.

Your heart rate jumps, and Paige can tell, the thumping evident under her thumb, and the pink in your face promptly returns.

“Sounds like someone’s got a praise kink,” she laughs, and you don't bother to even attempt to disagree. Your good girl disposition had stretched beyond just getting good grades and being innocent, and despite your lack of experience, you knew you liked being praised in that way. You preened under any kind of approval; it's just how you were wired.

Paige pulls you into a kiss, and you welcome the distraction. Her lips move against yours, and she sets the perfect tempo. Time slows as your tongues meld together, moans falling from both of your mouths at the sensation. Paige pulls away with one final kiss, lightly biting your swollen bottom lip with finality and dominance that had you swooning.

“Alright,” she begins, still stroking the flesh of your inner thigh. You had moved into her lap during your impromptu makeout session, and she had not protested in the slightest. “Tell me what you wanna try with me.”

You blush again. Having to verbalize to the gorgeous blonde that you did in fact want her to fuck you until you were a withering, moaning mess underneath her was mortifying. Your gaze drops back to your lap before flickering back to Paige’s before she could lightly chastise you.

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I don't know,” you mumble. “Everything?”

Her eyebrows jump in surprise at your boldness.

“Everything, huh?” She teases, her fingers dancing closer and closer to your clothed heat.

“Everything,” you breathe, affirming your statement, trying to avoid squirming in Paige’s lap. The size difference was adding to your arousal, and you feel the wet spot in your undies growing to an embarrassing size.

“How about we go to my bedroom?” Paige asks, and you immediately agree, wanting to somehow get even closer to the blonde. You go to stand up, but before you can do so, she pulls you in, picking you up and carrying you and dumping you on the plush, purple comforter that was thrown on her bed.

You scoot back so you're leaning against the pillows, and your legs are slightly spread. Paige stands at the foot of the bed, admiring you with an intense stare that had you squirming deliciously.

She takes off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in a black sports bra and matching boxers. Her skin was tanned from the summer, and her long, blonde hair was up in a bun. Her abs flashed as she moved towards you, getting on the bed and sitting next to where you were laying.

Your eyes rake over her figure, subconsciously licking your lips as you take her in. She was so gorgeous, and in this moment, she was all yours.

“Have you touched yourself before?” She asks, voice husky with want.

Fuck, this was getting real.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Her next two words have you reeling with arousal and the tiniest bit of anxiety.

“Show me.”

You slowly shed your clothes until you were laid out bare in front of Paige, and she looks you up and down with a fervent stare. Any thoughts of feeling insecure about your body vanish as you meet her gaze, the adoration radiating off of her.

Your hands start at your tits, fingers circling both nipples simultaneously. A slight pinch pulls a low whine from your lips, and you drag a hand down your stomach towards the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your touch was gentle, but an annoying voice in your head mocked that it was not comparable to Paige’s.

She had ruined everyone else for you, including yourself, and that was even before you were able to experience anyone else. You just knew.

You part your legs, gasping as the cool air hits your drenched pussy, and Paige lets out a similar noise as she sees how wet you are.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Keep going,” she urges, and her praise fuels you.

You dip two fingers into your sopping pussy, swirling the arousal around your clit, eliciting another groan at the large swell of pleasure. The build up of everything makes the process quicker than when you were alone, and Paige’s watchful eye adds to the sheer naughtiness. Your pants are coming out now in staccato breaths, pleasure building in the pit of your belly, and your eyes flutter close.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby,” Paige insists, and before you can even think otherwise, you open them once more, looking straight at her. Her dominance is soft, and your desire to gratify her takes over any sense of rational thinking.

Your hips stutter as the orgasm nears closer, but before you could bathe in the glorious pleasure of your orgasm washing over you, Paige pulls your hand away, and you pout in indignation as the tingling fades.

“You really didn't think you were going to make yourself cum tonight, did you?” She questions, cocking her head to the side with a smirk. “Let me make you feel good now, baby.”

You nod, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, trying to keep your eyes on Paige’s, but the intimacy of the situation makes you want to close them. You scoot back again, laying down further against the pillows.

Paige takes another moment to look at you, spread out perfectly and innocently before her. You look up at her with doe eyes, and the idea of you being all hers to do whatever she wanted to was nearly intoxicating.

She places a hand on your inner thigh, and goosebumps erupt at her gentle touch. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for everything you had been fantasizing about since you first laid eyes on UConn’s star basketball player.

Her hand trails down to your knee, where she then opens your legs, giving her the perfect view of you laid out open just for her.

It was always going to be just for her.

She leans down and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, nose nearly grazing your sopping pussy, and your stomach lurches dangerously.

Your breath quickens again.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmurs, as she travels up to your heaving chest, attaching that sinful mouth to a peaked and very sensitive nipple.

A small moan falls from your lips as you adjust to the new sensation. Pinching your own nipples felt nice, sure, but this was a whole new ballgame. You weren’t sure if this was something you could ever go without again.

Paige continues worshiping you, alternating between soft kisses, tantalizing licks, and sharp bites until you are a squirming mess underneath her.

“You like that?” She asks, and you moan incoherently, unable to verbalize just how much you did in fact like it.

Her kisses travel down your stomach until she has a direct view of your pussy.

“Been waiting to taste you for so long,” she murmurs, and if it weren’t for the sheer anticipation of her eating you out, you think you would have combusted right there on the spot.

Her breath fans against you, feeling warm against the slick that had accumulated. One hand strokes your thigh, while the other anchors your other leg, keeping you from closing them together.

Leaning down, she licks a long line from your weeping hole to your swollen clit, and the line of expletives and moans that follow are like music to Paige’s ears.

You are so vocal, and that turns her on in a way that should be almost concerning to her.

Her tongue swirls around your clit over and over again, and the orgasm that she had denied you was quickly building once more.

And just when you think it could not possibly get any better, Paige utters, “Gonna finger you, too, okay, baby?”

“Fuck, yes please, Paige. Need you,” you whine, eyes nearly shutting at the pleasure.

“So polite,” she chuckles, and she promptly slides a finger into your tight pussy.

The feeling was foreign to you, but you welcomed it, bucking against her hand wantonly.

“Such a good girl,” she praises. “Taking me so well.”

You moan at her words, the combination of the praise and the pleasure was making your head feel fuzzy, and you were simply relishing in it. You could not believe you had waited so long to allow yourself to feel so damn good.

Paige adds a second finger, stretching you out with a scissoring motion, before she curls her fingers, causing even more pleasure to shoot through your belly and float all throughout your body. Your g-spot was something you usually avoided during your impromptu masturbation sessions, and the sensations were otherworldly.

Another long whine leaves your lips, and you squirm. “More, Paige, please, need more,” you pant.

She obliges, adding a third finger. She fucks you while continuing her brutal assault on your throbbing clit, and you feel yourself begin to fall over the edge.

“Gonna cum,” you moan, Paige’s name falling from your lips like a prayer, the words and moans mixing together incomprehensibly.

“Cum for me,” Paige whispers huskily against your pussy, and with a loud string of moans, you fall apart.

Time nearly stops, and you are washed in pleasure. Paige helps ride you through the orgasm, slowing down once your breathing begins to even out. She pulls her fingers out of you, making a show of licking them while keeping intense eye contact with you.

You shudder, pulling her into a kiss, tasting yourself on her lips, and the horniness comes back instantaneously.

“That was incredible,” you whisper shyly, a soft smile on your face.

“Told you,” Paige winks, and you laugh, gently swatting at her.

“So cocky,” you tease. “When’s it my turn?”

She shakes her head. “Dont worry about it. This is about you.”

You pout, bottom lip jutting out. “But I want to learn. And I’ve been dying to taste you, too.”

A faint blush covers her features, and she wags her eyebrows at you. “Been thinkin’ about me, huh?”

“Shut up, Bueckers,” you whine, rolling her eyes. She was so goddamn cocky. And if she was literally anyone else, you would’ve gotten the ick. But she was Paige, and you could not help but be completely enthralled by her.

She quickly gives into you, and you help her take off the remainder of her clothes. It was your turn to gaze upon her, admiring her long, muscular limbs in all their glory.

Leaning down, you capture her lips in another searing kiss before trailing them down her neck and across her breasts. You could feel her heart racing under the tanned skin, and your ego soars. You were the one having this effect on Paige. No one else.

“Tell me if you want me to try something else,” you say, before promptly diving into her soaked pussy. Using what she had done to you as a guide, you begin swirling your tongue against her clit in tight circles. You groan against her, the taste and the downright idea of what you were doing sends jolts back down to your own sex. Similarly, Paige was a moaning mess underneath you.

“Doin’ so good, baby. Just like that,” she pants out, writhing on the bed and trying desperately to not trap your head between her strong thighs.

‘Wouldn't be the worst way to go, though,’ you think earnestly.

Her moans echo through her bedroom, ricocheting off the walls in undeniable proof that you were the one making her feel so good. Wanting to prove yourself even more, you slide two fingers in, curling them up to her g-spot, causing Paige to groan lowly.

The combination of the finger-fucking and the circling of her clit with your hot, wet tongue was efficacious, and soon she’s cumming with a long string of moans and your name on your lips. For a second, you worry that your roommates across the hall would be able to hear it, but you quickly determine that you really don’t give a fuck. Because you were the one making Paige feel like this, and you were pretty damn proud of it.

Letting her catch her breath, you pull out of her, sucking your fingers just as she had done, and sit back next to her against the pillows.

She looks over to you, and with her flushed cheeks and messy hair, you realize how incredibly fucked you are. There was no way you’d be able to go without this, without her, ever again.

“You get an A+ from me,” she deadpans, and you giggle, hiding your face in her neck.

“When’s the next lesson?” You ask, all sense of shyness wiped from your being.

“How about tomorrow? I could show you my strap,” she adds casually.

Your heart jumps. “Fuck yes,” you breathe, already getting excited at the thought.

“It’s a date,” she winks, pulling you in for another kiss. It was going to be a long night.

And you were okay with that.

wellll what do we think??? If you guys want i could do a part 5 but idk i really want to write some strap action lemme know!!

xoxo katy

Part 5

Part 6

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #paige bueckers smut

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comicaurora · 3 months ago

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How do you manage to motivate yourself when you're feeling tired or depressed?

Usually I try to give myself time to rest until those feelings lessen, since they're generally symptomatic of having pushed too hard, but on occasions where tiredness seems to be getting a little too cozy with depression, there's a few things I do.

I've observed in myself a habit of sort of… waiting in a holding pattern for something to push me into action. "Something" isn't defined clearly, but it becomes a real problem on depressed or low-executive-function days. This might just BE what low executive function feels like, tbh; like there's some invisible trigger and I can't Do The Thing until something trips it. When I notice I'm stuck in a holding pattern, I have a few tricks to snap myself out of it:

Flip a coin. Heads I get up and Do The Thing, tails I don't. The simple act of challenging myself is enough to motivate me sometimes, regardless of the outcome, but sometimes this makes me realize that I am legitimately tired, so I stay put and recharge a little until I want to flip for it again.

Set a five- or ten-minute timer and do whatever I need to do until the timer runs out. An artificial deadline can bypass the holding pattern. Sometimes this gives me momentum, and when the timer runs out I keep going. Sometimes this does NOT build momentum, and I crash after the timer runs out - but I crash with five more minutes of progress done. Any progress is better than no progress.

Assume Direct Control. This one only works sometimes, but sometimes it's as simple as breaking down a list of individual units of tangible progress - Get Off Of Bed, Put On Pants, Plug In Tablet, Etc Etc - and just grab the manual controls in my brain and make myself do each thing in turn. Sometimes I'll assume direct control to make myself take a Stupid Mental Health Walk, which has thus far worked every time to improve my mood and energy even though when I am in a Low Mood the last thing I want to do is subject myself to the mortifying ordeal of wearing pants and dealing with people.

I also find that sometimes it's helpful to pull the thread of what you're waiting for. Sometimes I'll realize I've locked myself into a weird paralysis because I've accidentally made something a prerequisite for other tasks. For example, I might realize I'm feeling weirdly frozen and uncomfortable because I haven't taken out the trash, and I've told myself I can't do X Y and Z until the trash is taken out, but I don't want to take out the trash, so I've locked X Y and Z behind Unpleasant Task in a subconscious attempt to motivate myself to Do The Task but instead I've just dramatically reduced the number of things I feel I can do. Often just noticing this pattern is enough to break out of it.

I also find that sometimes the invisible trigger I'm waiting for is just waiting to want to do something. That is unfortunately a trap. There are many things you can enjoy or benefit from without wanting to do them beforehand, because the thought of it is unpleasant or scary or anxiety-inducing or otherwise loaded down with what-ifs and caveats. I will never WANT to have a doctor's appointment, but I feel very good AFTER arranging and going to one. I very rarely WANT to exercise, but after the fact I feel very rewarded and more confident in my abilities. I've only WANTED to go on like a third of the walks I've taken this year, but every single one of them has been pleasant and beneficial to my mental health. Sometimes you just gotta say "I don't WANT to do it, but I'll be glad I did it" and manually pilot yourself into Doing It.

#asks #not aurora

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hoshifighting · 29 days ago

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LYLAAAAAAAAA OMG ILYSM EAT ABD SKEEP AND DRINK WELL!!!

if you don't mind a req, Jihoon (or svt reaction) when he finds how good it feels to use a shower spray against the hoohaa

clit stimulation using shower spray w woozi <33

WARNINGS: situationship!woozi, bath sex, using shower head to masturbate, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum)

it always started like this with jihoon—blurred lines that somehow felt crystal clear when you were with him. like, you knew what it was, but did you really? dude would pass by your place at 10 p.m. like, “you eat yet? i got chicken katsu.” then, five hours later, he’s snoring on your couch, legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your stomach like he lived there. and yeah, maybe he didn’t outright say things, but actions...oh, he was fluent.

tonight wasn’t any different. except it was.

you were mid-rant to your group chat about some guy hitting on you at the café when jihoon’s name popped up. jihoon: "should i bring dumplings or ramen? heading over." like. no question if you wanted him over; just straight vibes of "you good? i’m on my way."

fast-forward, and somehow, you ended up here—in the shower, your body pressed up against the tiles while jihoon held your leg like he was tuning a guitar. the steam made everything feel hazy, as he rinsed the soapy bubbles from your body.

the shower spray hit your inner thigh, the pressure tracing lazy lines up to places he wasn’t even aiming for. “lift a little,” he mumbled, voice low like the water could hear him. his hand slid behind your knee, steadying you like it wasn’t a big deal, but when that stream hit right at your clit. your breath stuttered, sharp enough to make his brows knit together.

“what?” he asked, head tilting like a curious cat. the fucker.

you shook your head, mortified.

his lips twitched, like he didn’t fully buy it, but he adjusted the angle anyway, aiming higher. too high. a broken moan fell out of your mouth, and your hand flew to his shoulder, digging in like it could stop time. it didn’t.

jihoon froze, the stream still very much pressing where it shouldn’t. “wait.” his tone was careful, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “does that—does it feel good?”

you groaned, smacking your forehead against his collarbone. “don’t.”

“i’m not judging!” he insisted, but the joy in his voice was hella obvious. “just—wait. do you do this by yourself? like, on purpose?”

“oh my god, stop talking.” you could feel your face burning, like the steam was actively conspiring against you.

jihoon chuckled under his breath, this low, knowing sound that made your embarrassment worse. “okay, okay. no answer needed.” he adjusted the spray, the water softening into a gentler stream, but he didn’t let go of your leg. didn’t pull away either.

the shower went silent for a beat, save for the soft patter of water hitting tiles. you thought that was it—mortification over, donezo. until jihoon, of course, had to ruin it.

“so... you want me to keep going?”

your gaze flickered to him, catching the way his eyes softened regardless the sneer tugging at his lips. you bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the water. and then, quietly, like you were confessing to a crime, you mumbled, “mhmm.”

his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction, his smirk deepening. “okay,” he whispered, so gentle it made your chest ache. “just relax, yeah?”

his hand tightened around your thigh like he was steadying himself, except you knew it was for you. the spray hadn’t moved yet, still teasing the edge of your inner thigh, the warm water trailing in lazy streaks down your skin. jihoon adjusted his grip slightly, his thumb grazing the back of your knee.

“you good?” his voice was soft, almost too soft, and when you peeked up at him, his eyes weren’t mocking anymore. he looked focused. calm. it made your chest twist in ways you weren’t ready to deal with.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah.”

“okay.” he glanced down, adjusting the showerhead with his free hand, the click of the spray setting sounding far too loud in the intimate quiet of the bathroom. then, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he tilted the stream closer, the water landing in a direct line that made your toes curl.

“jihoon—” your voice cracked, half his name, half a choke, and your body jolted on reflex. the spray circled over your clit, not quite a flick but not soft either, the pressure just shy of overwhelming.

he paused instantly, pulling the water back. “too much?”

“no, no,” you rushed, your hand gripping his shoulder like it was your lifeline. “just—fuck, i wasn’t ready.”

his lips curved into the faintest smirk, a tiny dimple ghosting one cheek. “should’ve said something. i could’ve warned you.”

you grumbled, heat blooming up your neck, he was already moving again, guiding the water in slow circles. it was gentle at first, the warmth rolling over you, but as he shifted his wrist, tilting the angle just slightly, the stream narrowed, honing in on that one spot.

your hips bucked forward, a strangled whine slipping from your throat, and jihoon chuckled low under his breath. “there it is,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. “feels good, hmm?”

you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop talking like he wasn’t wrecking you in the middle of your own bathroom, but the words dissolved into a needy moan as he flicked the stream upward, the water hitting just right. your fingers dug into his arm, and you swore your knees might give out.

“careful,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, his hand sliding to cup your hip as his forearm holds the back of your knee now, grounding you. “don’t go falling on me now.”

“easy for you to say,” you bit out, your voice trembling, but he only hummed in response.

he switched the spray again, this time narrowing it even more, and when he angled it just below your clit, letting the water ripple against you in a teasing rhythm, your head tipped back against the tile. “holy fuck,” you choked, legs trembling.

jihoon’s smirk widened, but his grip didn’t falter. “yeah?” he asked. “you like that, hmm?”

your only response was a broken whimper, and his hand flexed against your hip like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. “relax,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own breath hitched slightly. “just let it happen. i got you.”

you did relax, maybe too much, because the next moment, your leg wobbled, your body sliding just enough to make you panic. but jihoon moved instantly, catching you before you could even process it, his arm locking around your waist while he adjusted the spray back to that perfect rhythm.

“gotcha,” he said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or just satisfaction at the way you melted into him. “thought you were gonna make me work for it.”

you glared weakly at him, your cheeks burning, but it only made him laugh, the sound soft and familiar, grounding you even as your body threatened to unravel.

“don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping as the spray circled again, the pressure building making your vision blur. “i’m not stopping ‘til you’re begging me to.”

jihoon adjusted the spray again, sharper now, the stream jolting directly onto your clit. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. the sound that ripped from your throat wasn’t human, and your body arched against the tile, your back curving like a bowstring pulled too tight. your neck stretched, your breasts lifting as your lungs fought for air, and he didn’t move.

he just watched. studied, really. his eyes darted between yours, flicking from one to the other, then down to your parted lips, swollen and trembling. but then, as if he couldn’t resist, his gaze fell lower, trailing the path of your shivering belly, your chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.

his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you steady as your legs buckled again. the way you shook wasn’t subtle—your entire body was trembling, your muscles pulled taut under his hands. but jihoon didn’t stop. he tilted the stream slightly, letting the water flick at just the right angle again, and the sound that escaped you was downright obscene, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.

“fuck, jihoon—” your voice cracked on his name, and the way his lips twitched into a barely-there smirk made you want to scream for an entirely different reason.

“yes?” he asked, his tone smooth, but his breath wasn’t. it was uneven, shaky, like he was feeling this just as much as you were. “i can feel it—you’re so close.”

he was right. too right. the pressure built and built, your thighs clenching around nothing as your core tightened, heat pooling low in your belly and spilling over. the water, the angle, his goddamn voice—it was all too much.

“hoon, i—fuck, i’m—” the words dissolved into a scream as your orgasm tore through you. your hips jerked forward, your body trembling uncontrollably as the spray kept hitting that same devastating spot. your moans were loud, messy, your breath hitching in sobs as your climax rolled on.

jihoon didn’t move, his hand firm on your waist, keeping you upright as your legs gave out completely. he looked mesmerized, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering between your face and your trembling pussy. “fuck,” he whispered like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

but the spray didn’t let up. even as you sagged against him, your hands clutching his arms for dear life, the water kept its merciless rhythm, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks. “jihoon,” you whimpered. “s-stop—too much, it’s—”

he blinked out of his trance, his fingers brushing your hip in silent reassurance before he turned the showerhead aside, finally giving you mercy. the sudden absence of stimulation left you gasping.

jihoon’s gaze dropped, and when he saw it—saw the string of your cum clinging to your folds before dripping down to the tile—his breath hitched. it was wet, but wasn’t water; it couldn’t have been. it was too viscous, too familiar. the memory of your taste, sweet and unique flickered in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

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luveline · 11 months ago

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Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3

Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed.

Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile.

You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again.

But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell.

You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.

“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?”

“I wouldn’t say struggling.”

“You don’t need any help, then?”

“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”

“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.”

Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says.

“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully.

“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him.

“Thank you for helping.”

He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully.

Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly.

“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers.

“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”

Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that.

“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.

Not that nice.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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nakahras · 6 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying.

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him.

he was… distant.

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong.

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door.

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom.

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion.

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris.

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around.

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…”

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face.

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features.

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp.

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched.

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn’t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways.

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.”

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire.

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button.

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs?

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same.

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was.

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.”

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance.

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease.

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in.

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him.

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared.

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek.

“c’mere…”

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused.

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

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