#family tension mild

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Loki's Sweet Treat

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Dark!Loki x Honey!Reader

About 20k words, so tread carefully

Honey Duval navigates the treacherous world of high society, facing family tensions, personal struggles, and Loki's dark interest in her. As she tries to protect her family's fragile reputation, Honey finds herself entangled in dangerous power plays and secrets that threaten her future.

Warning:

This story contains graphic content that may be disturbing to readers, including themes of sexual assault, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Explicit scenes involving non-consensual encounters, coercion, and power dynamics are present, which may be triggering for some readers.

The sun streamed in through the tall windows of Lady Jane's sitting room, casting a golden glow on the well-dressed women gathered for tea. The gentle clink of China and the murmur of conversation filled the air, yet I couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. I lingered at the edge of the room, blending into the wallpaper as I clutched my teacup, regretting my decision to come to this wretched party.

Of course, I had little choice. My family, the Duvals, were barely clinging to their status, and everyone knew it. The invitations I received weren’t because I was welcome, they were because everyone wanted to bask in the schadenfreude of watching the once-prominent Duval family teeter on the brink of losing everything. That’s why I found myself at yet another gathering, pretending to fit in while my family’s fortunes slipped further through our fingers.

 Lady Jane, our host, sat near the center of the room, surrounded by her usual crowd of sycophants. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her thinly veiled hostility or the saccharine sweetness she used to mask it. Either way, she made my skin crawl and today, her vitriol was aimed squarely at the Royal Family of Asgard.

“Can you believe it?” Lady Jane sneered, her voice carrying across the room. “That woman, Cyan, is to be our future queen? It’s an outrage! A commoner, raised among peasants, is supposed to marry the crowned prince? What are they thinking?!”

Her audience murmured their agreement, some nodding so vigorously I wondered if their heads might fall off. They all knew better than to cross Lady Jane, who was still nursing her bitter disappointment over not being chosen by the prince herself. 

“I was so certain Thor had his eye on me,” Jane continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “But instead, they choose a woman without breeding, without class! Imagine Queen Freya’s humiliation.”

One of the ladies beside her leaned in. “I’ve heard the queen is mortified. She’s so ashamed of the match that she barely speaks of it.”

 I tried to tune out their gossip, but it was impossible. This was what passed for entertainment among women like Jane,tearing down anyone who dared to rise above their station.  

I took a small sip of tea, my gaze wandering to where my younger sister, Saffron, sat. She was newly debuted, and though she carried herself with grace, I knew she felt as out of place as I did. It was hard not to, with the ever-looming threat of our family’s collapse hanging over our heads. 

 “The only good thing to come from this debacle,” Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts, “is the ball they’re throwing to celebrate the engagement. At least we’ll get a grand event out of it.”

 The other women tittered with laughter, clearly enjoying the idea of a lavish ball more than the prospect of a common-born queen.

And to think," Jane added, her voice lowering, "there were times Thor would have done anything to get under my skirts. What a shame he felt the need to settle for Cyan."

The room erupted into gasps and giggles, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The audacity. The rumor about Lady Jane and Thor had been swirling for ages, but I had my doubts. If Thor had ever entertained such an affair, he certainly wasn’t entertaining it now.

 I leaned back against my chair, feeling invisible and detached from their world of petty gossip and social climbing. The Duvals may have been struggling, but at least we hadn’t descended to Lady Jane’s level of desperation. Not yet, anyway.

 As the conversation continued to swirl around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for someone like Cyan, entering a world that was waiting for her to fail. And as much as I despised Lady Jane’s cruelty, I also feared for what might be in store for me and Saffron. After all, even those who seemed untouchable could easily be cast aside.

The tea party was a spectacle of opulence, an excuse for the nobility to gather and show off their status. I sat toward the edge of the gathering with Saffron, doing my best to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult, most of the women here treated us as though we didn’t exist. I should’ve known better than to come, but Mother had insisted we make an appearance. As if mingling with these people could somehow save the Duval name.

I heard the snickers before I even focused on the conversation.

"Honestly, it’s a miracle the Duvals are still being invited to these things," Lady Margaret said, her voice unnecessarily loud. She made no effort to lower her tone, her words clearly meant for my ears. "You’d think they’d have the good sense to keep a low profile instead of parading their desperation."

The other women laughed, their voices high and cruel. Saffron’s face turned pale beside me, her fingers nervously clutching her tea. I clenched my fists under the table.

"They’re just biding their time, hoping to sell off one of those pretty daughters to keep the estate afloat," Lady Sharon added, her gaze flickering over to us briefly. "Though I doubt anyone of real consequence would be interested."

The comment hung in the air, and the group of women dissolved into more laughter. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was as if our very existence amused them, as if our struggles were a source of entertainment.

“Pathetic,” Jane sneered. “Trying to scrape by with the little dignity they have left.I would have never invited them had mother not insisted”

The tension within me snapped.

I stood up slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. "It’s curious, Lady Jane," I said, my voice calm though every word was sharpened with intention, "how loudly you speak about dignity when it’s something you’ve long since thrown away."

The laughter died abruptly, and all eyes turned to me. Saffron looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. But I had reached my limit.

Jane blinked, her mouth tightening. "Excuse me?"

I stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve heard the rumors, Jane. Everyone has. You thought lying on your back would secure yourself a crown, as if a few stolen moments beneath a prince would make you queen." I let the words sink in, watching as Jane’s composure faltered. "It’s rather tragic, really, how you’ve convinced yourself that by spreading your legs, you could spread your influence."

There was a collective gasp from the group, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Jane’s face went pale, then flushed a deep crimson. “You—how dare you speak to me like that!”

"I dare because it's the truth," I said coolly, holding her gaze. "You gamble with your pride, and yet here you are, no crown, no prince, no claim, just a scorned woman who can’t seem to grasp why a prince didn’t choose her."

The room had gone deathly silent. Saffron was staring at me, wide-eyed, and the other ladies looked like they couldn’t decide whether to intervene or flee. Jane’s face contorted with fury, but before she could spit out a retort, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"Next time you want to mock someone’s struggles, Jane, make sure your own failures aren’t quite so obvious."

I straightened up and walked back toward my seat, feeling every pair of eyes on me. Saffron looked at me as though I’d just declared war on the entire room, her hands trembling in her lap.

I could feel Jane’s burning stare, her dignity in tatters, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. The truth had been laid bare, and no amount of biting retort could salvage her pride now.

"Saffron, let’s go." My voice was steady, though my heart still raced from the confrontation. I guided my sister out of the room, her arm linked through mine, and we stepped out into the cool air, away from the judgment and venom of those who thrived on misfortune.

We were still the subject of their gossip, still teetering on the edge of ruin. But I wouldn’t let them crush us. Not without a fight.

Baroness Helena Duval, my mother, paced the drawing room, her eyes sharp and angry as she threw a furious glance at me. My father, Reginald, stood at the window with his back to us, silent, as was his usual stance when my mother unleashed her wrath.

"I can't believe you! Every invitation we had received, every opportunity to mingle with those that could possibly save us, gone!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

I remained silent, standing in the corner with Saffron beside me, while my mother focused all her ire on me. "Do you understand what you've done? Lady Jane is connected to half the nobility in the kingdom! And what do you do? Confront her about her...fraternizing with the Crown Prince?"

She spat out the last words as if they were poison, her tone as biting as ever. But I wasn’t about to apologize, not to Lady Jane, and certainly not for speaking the truth.

Helena's sharp eyes flicked over to Saffron, softening just a touch as she sighed deeply. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Graceful, quiet, and demure. Everything a young lady should be."

Saffron, at those words, dropped her head in shame, and my heart clenched for her. I knew she hated when our mother used her as an example, especially because "graceful and demure" really meant spineless. Saffron had told me that, late one night when we were younger, and ever since then, whenever someone praised her, I knew she felt nothing but shame.

I reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze, letting her know I understood. I wasn’t offended by my mother’s words; I knew this was simply how she thought. To her, Saffron was the perfect daughter, the one who played her role quietly, and I- well, I was the one who didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

My mother’s sharp eyes softened momentarily when she noticed me grab Saffron’s hand, but her anger was far from gone. She let out a deep, exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to me, her voice dripping with frustration.

“What in God's name possessed you to confront Lady Jane in the first place?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not quite as biting as before.

I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly. "She called us pathetic," I said simply.

She paused, her eyes flickering with something close to understanding. For a brief moment, the fury drained from her face, and she almost looked sympathetic. Almost.

"I understand your frustration, Honey. Truly, I do," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But jumping straight into social suicide...was that really the best course of action?"

I bit my tongue, looking down at my feet. No, it wasn’t.

 "We are on the verge of losing everything," she said, her voice softer but filled with a different kind of anger. "This was our chance, Honey. The ball, the invitations...they were supposed to help secure our future. Now-now we are outcasts. Again."

I said nothing, knowing full well she wasn’t looking for a reply. But deep down, I couldn’t regret my actions, not when I thought of the smug look on Lady Jane’s face as she droned on about her imagined place in the royal court.

As my mother left the room in frustration, I turned to Saffron, squeezing her hand again. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on both of us, and there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of it.

“At least we won’t be wasting any more money on dresses and jewelry,” I muttered under my breath.

At that, my father let out a hearty laugh, walking up to the both of us but locking his gaze on me.

“You realize what you did could ruin us, right?” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and warning.

I dropped my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Yes, Father,” I answered, my voice begrudging but respectful.

He grunted, smirking as he leaned down to kiss both Saffron and me on the forehead.

“Don’t worry too much, my dear. We’ll get through this, like we always have,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive of the severity of the situation.

It didn't erase the weight of my mother’s words or the danger we were in, but my father’s confidence, misplaced or not, eased the tension for moments as brief as these.

The Duvals were enjoying a rare moment of quiet in their living space. Saffron and Mother were embroidering by the window, their needles gliding through fabric with delicate precision. Father and I sat side by side, each absorbed in the local news when our butler, Gerard, suddenly burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Baroness, Baron! You’ve received an invitation from the palace!" he announced, holding the crisp, cream-colored envelope as though it were made of pure gold. 

Mother looked up from her embroidery, visibly shocked. "An invitation?" she murmured, her voice barely hiding her surprise. I could see it in her eyes, she had resigned herself to a quiet fall from grace, expecting our family to fade into the background without further notice. Yet here was a summons, proof that the royal family had not completely turned its back on us.

Father reached for the envelope, breaking the royal seal. He cleared his throat before reading aloud: “You are cordially invited to the engagement party of the Crown Prince Thor and his fiancée Cyan.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips. Of all the people to be engaged to a prince, it was Lady Cyan. She had no title and no noble lineage to speak of, yet here she was, about to marry the future king.What a fairytale. The invitation, unsurprisingly, didn’t mention any title for Lady Cyan, she had none yet, but once she married Thor, she would become the Crowned Princess.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of delight. Deep down, I couldn’t deny my penchant for stirring the pot of intrigue. And watching someone like Cyan, a peasant girl, rise to a position of power was sure to throw the entire class system into chaos. And with our family teetering on the edge of ruin, what was the harm in finding a little entertainment before we were booted from high society?

The evening of the party arrived quickly. The Royal Garden was breathtaking, every inch of it meticulously prepared for the grand affair. Saffron and I stood by the fountain, sipping champagne and enjoying the soothing trickle of the water as we waited for the royal family to make their entrance.

When they finally appeared, the crowd gasped in awe. King Odin and Queen Freya entered first, regal as ever, their presence demanding respect. Hela and Loki followed, each exuding their own form of royal authority. And then, the couple of the hour, Prince Thor and Lady Cyan.

I nearly choked on my champagne when I saw Lady Cyan.

She looked... awful.

Her hair was down but tangled and unbrushed, her makeup was smeared and unflattering, and worst of all, she wore a dress that had been popular last season, as if she hadn’t noticed the fashion had moved on. Even her shoes were an insult,flats, when everyone knew a proper royal event required heels. It was clear to me that the palace maids had set her up for failure, likely encouraged by none other than the ladies in waiting, who were no doubt snickering behind her back.

A quick glance toward Lady Jane confirmed my suspicions. There she was, surrounded by her loyal gaggle of women, all of them giggling into their gloves like schoolgirls. I could practically hear the whispers, whispers that Jane herself had probably orchestrated.

Yet, even as Cyan stood there, a vision of royal disaster, Thor remained unfazed. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the room, his eyes filled with love and admiration. It was almost endearing, in a sickening sort of way.

When the time came for the royals to mingle, I made sure to stay out of the way. I had no intention of angering Mother any further after the debacle with Lady Jane. Saffron, naturally, trailed behind me like a shadow, her shy demeanor making her hesitant to stray too far. She chattered quietly about a romance novel she’d been reading with her friends, her soft voice blending with the music that floated through the garden. Just as she was getting to a particularly juicy part, where the Duke of the novel had finally caught the Princess in a compromising position, our mother appeared, with Duke Bruce Banner in tow.

Mother’s smile was painfully forced as she practically pushed Saffron into Duke Banner’s path. "Saffron, darling, the Duke was just asking about you," she cooed, already working her magic to arrange yet another another potential match for her favorite child. Despite Saffron’s beauty,for some reason her shy and quiet nature had kept many potential husbands at bay, one would think they’d enjoy it.But Mother wasn’t one to give up easily.

I stood back, watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Saffron might be the favorite, but she hated being paraded around like this. I gave her a sympathetic glance before turning my attention elsewhere. I had no interest in finding a match tonight, especially not when I was feeling like a mere observer to a world that was slipping away from us.

While Mother busied herself with Saffron and the Duke, I slipped away, seeking solace at the border where the Royal Garden met the Royal Forest. The sounds of the party grew distant as I found a quiet bench beneath a cluster of trees, my thoughts swirling as I sipped the last of my champagne. This engagement party was a disaster for Lady Cyan, and no doubt her ascension would continue to be entertaining, if nothing else, it would distract the nobles from our impending downfall.

The sound of a timid "Oh" pulled me from the quiet of my thoughts. I turned my head and found the future Crowned Princess standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Lady Cyan stammered, already stepping back as though she had committed some great offense.

“Nonsense,” I replied, rising from my seat near the edge of the garden. “If anything, I am intruding on your walk.” I bowed my head before making my way elsewhere, but she quickly spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Could you stay? I mean... if you don’t mind.”

I paused, unsure if I should humor the girl or retreat to the quiet, I had sought. Yet when I looked at her, there was something in her manner that reminded me of Saffron, fragile, in need of protection, utterly ill-suited to the cruel ways of this world. With a slight nod I sat back down, on bench, and she hurried to sit next to me. How unflattering for a future queen.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, the air between us light but unspoken words hanging on the edge of her lips. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't realize the noble world could be so cruel."

I glanced at her sideways. “Prince Thor did not warn you?”

She looked down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “He didn’t have time, considering how he picked me from a crowd.”

Now, that caught my attention. “How do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

Lady Cyan glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then spoke in a lowered tone, “I used to be... a lady of the night.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “Thor was just a regular customer. I never got the chance to see the royal family, so I didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t use his name either, he just called himself Donar.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. This was... extraordinary. “How did you come to be his fiancée?” I asked, genuinely intrigued now.

Lady Cyan sighed. “I was out one morning buying groceries for my mother when a knight seized me and pulled me into a carriage with Thor. That’s when he told me who he really was. He said he wanted me to marry him.”

I blinked, trying to suppress a laugh. “And you thought this was... what? A joke?”

“At first, yes,” she said with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “The next thing I knew, my mother and I were having breakfast with the king and queen.”

Now, this was beyond amusing. I had always known Prince Thor to be impulsive, rumors about him were legendary, but this? This was another level entirely. A peasant marrying into royalty was scandalous enough, but a former courtesan? The whole system was bound to erupt. I could hardly contain my amusement.

Lady Cyan frowned slightly, noticing my reaction. “What’s so funny?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, it’s nothing... except how very on-brand this is for Prince Thor. You should be careful, though. That bit of information? You should keep it to yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

I waved a hand. “Of course not. But be warned, others won’t be so kind. You’d best keep quiet about your past if you want to survive this court.”

Lady Cyan nodded, her expression softening into one of gratitude. “I was just... so grateful to be here. To wear such fine clothing...”

I looked at her more closely. And her ungodly look “Who dressed you for tonight?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Hela had some of her ladies-in-waiting help me,” she replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t let them help you again. They made you look ragged, and it was likely intentional.”

Her face fell. “I had a feeling when everyone started laughing at me... The servants say awful things when they think I’m not listening. That Lady Jane should have been Thor’s bride. They don’t know why he chose me.”

My blood boiled. “Fuck them,” I said without thinking.

Lady Cyan gasped, clearly shocked by my language. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, you need to build your own court. Your own ladies-in-waiting, your own servants,and most importantly your own thick-skin. As long as these current people remain, they will never respect you, and they will always try to make you look the fool.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that...”

I gave her a stern look. “Do you want to be treated like this for the rest of your life?”

She fell silent.

“You’re going to be queen one day. Prince Thor would give you anything you ask for, that I could clearly see, so use that power. Snuggle up to him, get what you need, and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a long time, Lady Cyan. You might as well rule in comfort.”

She nodded slowly; her gaze thoughtful. I could tell she was unsure of herself, but if she had any hope of surviving this world, she would need to learn quickly. And if I had to give her a push in the right direction, so be it.

“Cyan!” A voice cut through the stillness of the garden, deep and unmistakably male.

Both of us turned toward the sound, and soon enough, Prince Loki stepped into view. His presence carried the same shadowy grace as always, but this time, his gaze briefly flickered to me before settling on Cyan.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said smoothly, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer. “I suggest you go calm him before he sends out a search party.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lady Cyan hurriedly stood, her flustered movements betraying her nervousness. I rose to my feet as well, out of courtesy.

“Thank you so much for the advice...” Lady Cyan paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Honey. Honey Duval.” I offered my hand, knowing full well it was improper, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shook it with the casual grace of someone entirely untrained in court etiquette.

“I’m Cyan,” she smiled, her warmth genuine if not misplaced.

“I know” I retort, a smile on my face

I made a mental note: the girl would need to refine such small gestures if she hoped to command any respect in the court. There was more to being a princess than simply having the prince’s affection.

I watched as  she hurried away, her pace quickening as she no doubt rushed to find her fiancé before he acted on Prince Loki’s warning. Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned, ready to find my family, only to realize Prince Loki hadn’t moved. He was still standing near, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I immediately curtsied. “Prince Loki,” I murmured, trying to sound composed as I stood straight again, preparing to make my exit.

But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me cold. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

I froze, the weight of his words pulling me back in place. “Duval,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate, letting the name roll off his tongue as though it were some kind of secret he was savoring. Then he moved toward me, closing the distance until he was standing mere inches from my face.

Prince Loki was an intimidating man, far more dangerous than most cared to admit. I’d heard the stories, of course, of the legendary battles between him and Prince Thor, the ferocity with which they fought their enemies and, at times, each other. And though I prided myself on my resolve, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear. His presence, so dark and calculated, was enough to unsettle even the strongest of wills.

“You are of a house with status,Barons, I believe?” His words were a statement, not a question, as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Prince Loki,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “So, then you should’ve known better than to extend your hand to the future ruler of Asgard.”

I stiffened at the reprimand. I knew I’d made a mistake, but hearing it so coldly from his lips made it sting all the more. He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose... what else could one expect from a falling house?”

His words were a dagger. Before I could stop myself, my spine straightened, and the retort slipped from my lips without a second thought. “Nothing as bad as one would expect from a treacherous prince.”

The moment the words escaped me, regret surged through my veins like ice. I had struck too close to the truth, to the rumors that still clung to his name even after all these years. I knew of Loki’s dark history, how, as a young man, he had once betrayed Asgard by siding with Jotunheim in a fit of jealousy, trying to seize the throne from King Odin and Prince Thor. Though he had redeemed himself by turning around and conquering Jotunheim, earning back the trust of the kingdom, the title of “Treacherous Prince” still lingered in whispers.

Personally, I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s so eager to switch sides.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately began to apologize, my voice rushing out in a panic. “Prince Loki, I didn’t mean-”

He squinted, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but to my surprise, there was amusement as well. His lips curled into a smirk; his expression unreadable. “Bold,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “But foolish. You may Go.”

Then, before I could react, he grabbed me, pulling me roughly against his chest. My heart pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, I have more power than you. And with that power, I can do far more damage.”

He released me with a shove, and I stumbled back, fear and dread gripping my heart. The reality of what I’d just done washed over me like a tidal wave. Loki was not the type of man to forgive easily, and I had just signed the Duval family’s death warrant with my reckless words.

Terrified, I hurried away, my mind racing as I realized just how dire our situation had become. If Loki so wished, he could destroy us with a single utterance, and I had just given him reason to do so.

Several weeks had passed without a single word from the palace. It was strange, the quiet. The Duvals had not received any invitations to events or gatherings, but oddly enough, things seemed to be looking up,at least on the surface. Duke Banner’s interest in Saffron had become more obvious with each passing day. Bouquets of delicate flowers arrived regularly, along with boxes of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. He must have somehow learned of Saffron’s love for such indulgences. While I found his eagerness unsettling, Mother insisted it was nothing to be concerned about, calling it a sign of his devotion.

But I could see the confusion in Saffron’s eyes. She didn’t know how to respond to the Duke’s affections. Her heart was too gentle, too uncertain. She was torn between her own feelings and the expectations placed upon her. I couldn’t blame her,I had my own storm to contend with.

Prince Loki. The memory of our confrontation still hung over me like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding, threatening to break at any moment. I had said nothing to Mother, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable disaster. Confiding in her would only shatter this brief illusion of peace.

That afternoon, Saffron and I were sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of spades, trying to enjoy the mild weather. The gentle breeze was soothing, if only for a moment. But then, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the calm.

Both of us snapped our heads toward the commotion, just in time to see Mother rushing toward us, the head maid trailing closely behind. Her hands waved an envelope above her head, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight.

My stomach lurched. This was it. The reckoning I had feared.

Saffron, always attuned to my unease, clasped my hand under the table, offering silent comfort. She knew everything that happened with Prince Loki. We told each other everything.

Mother reached us, breathless, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Honey!” she exclaimed, waving the envelope as if it were a priceless relic. “You’ve been summoned to the royal palace!”

I froze, my heart pounding. What?

Mother continued, her voice filled with barely contained glee. “You’ve been called to interview as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen!”

The words barely registered. “What?” I whispered, my voice thin and shaky. I glanced at Saffron, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her wide eyes. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest.

But Mother, oblivious to the shock etched on our faces, began reading the letter aloud. The future queen, Cyan, had personally selected me for consideration. Me. Out of all the girls. The words blurred together as my mind drifted back to Loki. Had he said nothing? Was this a game?

Mother’s excited voice pulled me back to the present as she finished reading, her arms suddenly wrapping around Saffron and me in a tight embrace. “This is it! Things are finally looking up!” she squealed, her joy almost tangible. “This is exactly what we needed!”

I remained silent, my thoughts spinning out of control. This invitation, no, this summons,could either be our salvation or the final blow that brought everything crashing down. And somehow, I knew… this wasn’t a coincidence.

I sat across from Lady Cyan in the quiet Receiving Room, the silence hanging heavily between us. She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the edge of her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the moment. I waited, wondering if she would speak first, but when it became apparent she was at a loss, I decided to break the silence.

"Your Highness," I began, keeping my voice measured, "is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Lady Cyan blinked, as though startled by the question. "Oh," she replied softly, her uncertainty palpable. "I... I’m not really sure what I should ask. I requested that the Queen and Princess Hela be present, but they... well, they refused."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and I realized, once again, how out of place she must feel here. The future Queen of Asgard, yet still lost within the complexities of court.

"Would you like me to guide you, Your Highness?" I offered gently, knowing she needed a nudge.

She nodded, looking relieved. "Yes, please."

"Well," I began, "what do you think of me as a candidate so far?"

Lady Cyan straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly more formal. "I like you. I think you would have my back. Even Loki agrees."

“Prince Loki?” I asked 

She nodded “Yes, in fact when I mentioned That I would like to get my own Ladies in Waiting, he suggested you as the first one.”

How Curious.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her directness. "Right.” I chose then to ignore the mention of Prince Loki “So then,Why do you like me, and how do you believe that would benefit you in the court?"

She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter, almost vulnerable. "Since I arrived at the palace, I’ve felt like an outsider. No one truly talks to me, except Thor. The conversation we had in the royal garden…" she trailed off, as if collecting her thoughts. "It felt real, like I could tell you anything. And when you advised me not to spread the truth of my past, I felt... safe. You didn’t judge me, and you kept your word so far. I haven’t heard any whispers of it since. That’s why I feel like I can trust you."

She glanced down at her lap, her tone sincere but unsure, as if she feared I might turn her words against her. There was a certain naivety about her, but it was clear she was trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the court. I folded my hands in my lap and smiled softly.

"So you met me and felt that I could be useful to you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Lady Cyan's eyes widened, shaking her head frantically. "Oh no, I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her flustered reaction. "That’s the system, Your Highness. Everyone in court uses everyone else to further their own agendas. If you are deemed useless, they’ll find a way to cast you aside."

Lady Cyan nodded slowly, absorbing my words like a student eager to learn. She seemed to be coming to terms with the harsh reality of her new life. This wasn’t the world of commoners she once knew; here, survival depended on alliances and strategic moves.

"So," I pressed on, "since you already had a good impression of me during our first meeting, what is it you’re trying to confirm now, in this interview?"

Lady Cyan shifted, clearly embarrassed again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well... I wanted to hire you immediately, but Queen Freya said that was nonsense. She told me I should at least have an interview with you first."

It was clear that Queen Freya expected me to decline her request. After all, who in their right mind would willingly work under a former commoner, especially with my family teetering on the brink of ruin? But the Queen, in all her wisdom and grandeur, had overestimated my penchant for pride and underestimated the deep-rooted vitriol I held for the very system that sought to throw me and my family to the dogs.

I couldn't help but smile at her honesty, and there was something endearing about her candor. It was clear she was out of her depth, but there was potential in her, potential that could be nurtured if handled correctly. I leaned forward, my tone reassuring.

"Then, Your Highness, you have my word. If you choose to have me by your side, I will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this court. But remember, loyalty goes both ways. I will protect you, but I ask for the same in return."

Lady Cyan met my gaze, her expression softening with relief. "I understand, Honey. Thank you."

I nodded, knowing that from this moment forward, I had entered a dangerous alliance. The future Queen would need more than just trust; she would need strength. And if I was to help her navigate the world she had been thrust into, I would have to play this game carefully, for both our sakes.

My first week working under Lady Cyan, I made it clear that I was there to observe. She agreed, a bit relieved, I think. I spent the week silently watching the way the servants treated her, the way the butlers undermined her every word, and how Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, who were temporarily assigned to her, blatantly ignored her.

Lady Cyan mostly ate alone with her mother, and when they did, it was pitiful. They served them meals that even my own family, on the verge of ruin, would refuse. But when she dined with Prince Thor, everything was immaculate, like a magic switch had been flipped. Even Prince Thor’s courtiers, the ones supposed to show respect to the future queen, treated her poorly.

 And then there was the mountain of paperwork they threw at her, expecting her to understand and manage the upkeep of the palace without any guidance. It was clear that she was not only doing her work but the work of Hela’s ladies-in-waiting as well.

I had seen enough.

"Why haven’t you hired the new staff after I told you to?" I asked her one afternoon.

She sighed; exhaustion etched into every feature. "I haven’t had the time," she said.

"Of course you haven’t," I retorted. "You’re buried in work that doesn’t even belong to you."

As I watched her, overwhelmed and far too thin, I was reminded again of Saffron. Someone kind, gentle, and easily taken advantage of. This was more work than I’d intended to take on, but someone needed to help her.

"First things first," I said, taking hold of her wrist gently. "We’re hiring you a personal chef. You’re entirely too thin, and it’s obvious the kitchen staff has no intention of keeping you healthy."

"Will I be able to?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I don’t know. What do your funds look like?"

"Oh, I don’t—"

I didn’t let her finish. I strode over to her desk, pulling out her accounting book. As I read through the pages, it was clear. The funds allocated to Lady Cyan were being skimmed, and heavily. According to the records, she was eating lavish meals, wearing the latest fashions, and buying expensive jewelry. And yet, here she was, sitting in a handdown dress, malnourished and mistreated.

"When was the last time you spent any of the funds given to you?" I asked, holding the book up to her.

Lady Cyan’s face crumpled in confusion. "I didn’t know I was receiving any funds. Prince Thor didn’t tell me."

I shut the book with a sharp thud. "He’s not supposed to. That’s the job of his courtier. His courtier was meant to show you how to manage your paperwork, how your finances work, and how to oversee your responsibilities, both in maintaining the palace and fulfilling your duties to the kingdom."

Cyan blinked, clearly overwhelmed. This explained everything. No wonder she hadn’t hosted any balls or tea parties, and why she was wearing tattered clothing.

"Someone is stealing from you," I said firmly, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. "And I’m willing to bet the accountant knows exactly who."

 I shut her books and tucked them under my arm, turning to Lady Cyan with a calm but firm expression. “Show me where accounting is.”

She perked up immediately. “Oh, okay.” She started to stand, but as soon as she did, I noticed her posture was completely atrocious, slouched shoulders, head bowed. I stopped her with a slight raise of my hand.

“Before we continue, straighten your back, stretch your neck, and hold your head high,” I instructed. Lady Cyan blinked at me but did as I asked. I spent a few moments adjusting her posture, teaching her how to carry herself with dignity. She still moved with a bit of awkwardness, but with practice, she would improve.

As we made our way to the accounting office, I trailed behind her, as any good lady-in-waiting would. When we arrived, Lady Cyan politely asked the receptionist, Miss Elara Merton, if she could meet with Lord Gregor Voss.

Merton barely glanced at us and replied with obvious disdain, “He’s busy.”

I felt my temper flare. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said, stepping past her and bursting into the office. I had no patience left. Lady Cyan was being mistreated at every turn in this castle, and I couldn’t help but think had it been me the castle would have long ago been set ablazed.

There was Lord Voss, in all his disgrace, caught mid-act with a woman who was most certainly not Lady Voss. The woman, mortified, hurriedly gathered her things and bolted from the room.

“What the hell?” Lord Voss spluttered, adjusting his trousers.

“The future Queen of Asgard wishes to speak with you,” I said coolly.

He looked past me and saw Lady Cyan, standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and expectancy.

“I’m busy,” he repeated, sounding more defensive than before.

“Oh, we can see that,” I replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the scene. I couldn’t wait to tell Saffron about this later.

I ushered Lady Cyan into the room as Miss Merton approached, trying to assert some sort of authority. I stepped up to her, meeting her eyes with an intimidating glare that left no room for argument. “Step back,” I said, my tone commanding. Intimidated, she complied, and I shut the door behind us.

I walked up to Lord Voss and fixed him with a stare. “Tell us who has been taking money from Lady Cyan’s funds.”

Voss blinked, taken aback by the direct question, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lady Cyan has been making purchases on her own,” he said with a practiced smoothness. “Just check her accounting book. Her ladies-in-waiting bring in the necessary—"

“So, Hela’s ladies-in-waiting are stealing from Cyan?” I cut in sharply.

“I did not say that,” he stammered. “I was simply—"

“Of course you did,” I interrupted, holding up the accounting book I had taken. “Jewelry, clothing, shoes, and food, purchases made with her funds. Yet, look at her.” I gestured toward Cyan, who stood looking pale and tired, her dress ill-fitting and her frame almost fragile. “She wears none of it, and she’s thin as a pencil. The ladies-in-waiting have been making these purchases for themselves. They are stealing from her.”

“Baroness Duval—” Voss began.

“That’s my mother,” I said, flashing him a cold smile. “Just call me Lady Honey.”

“Right,” Voss muttered, leaning in to whisper, “Lady Honey. Between you and I, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hoarding it all.”

That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough that he could see the fire in my eyes. Cyan gasped softly behind me.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a man,” I hissed. “If you do not tell us who’s been stealing from the future Queen of Asgard, the next person walking through those doors will be the Crowned Prince Thor himself.” His eyes widened in fear, and I pressed further. “Or maybe I should let Lady Voss know exactly what you’ve been up to at work, since we all know who truly runs your household.”

Voss paled and quickly surrendered. “Okay, okay, it is Lady Vivienne, a maid named Kelly, and Lord Cyril Vance.”

“How spineless.” I shoved him back, wiping my hands of his filth. With a gentle voice I turn to Lady Cyan “Let us go.” as I have her walk ahead of me

I opened the door for her, and she walked out with her head held a little higher than before. When we returned to her office,she collapsed into tears, overwhelmed by the realization of how many people had been betraying her.

“Lady Vivienne is one of Princess Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, and Lord Cyril Vance is Thor’s courtier,” she sobbed. “What am I to do now?”

I embraced her gently, offering comfort before I spoke firmly. “You fire them.”

She stops to look at me, as if I’d said something ridiculous “I can’t do that,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Then ask Prince Thor to do it,” I suggested.

“But I—”

“Listen, Lady Cyan,” I interrupted softly but seriously. “You need a completely new court. Not only are they insulting you, but they’re also stealing from you. I understand you don’t want to rattle the cage, but you must do the uncomfortable things now so that you can be comfortable later. You have power now. Use it.”

She paused, considering my words. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered, “Okay.”

For the next several months, Cyan had gone on a thorough firing spree, and anyone she couldn’t directly remove was replaced for personal matters, leaving them slowly edged out. I was with her every step of the way, ensuring that each word she spoke was met with the respect and dignity she deserved.

The first major task was sending Hela back her ladies-in-waiting. Lady Cyan, with newfound confidence, informed Hela that Vivienne had been embezzling money from her books. I made sure to advise her to suggest Hela check her own accounts. It wasn’t long before Lady Vivienne was escorted from the palace in disgrace.

Thor’s reaction to Lord Cyril’s involvement in stealing from Lady Cyan was nothing short of fury. He dismissed Cyril immediately, along with the maid Kelly, their reputations shattered beyond repair. No person of prominence would dare to hire them again.

During these palace changes, I cleverly slipped in a word about the kitchen staff feeding Lady Cyan slop. If anyone should have a personal chef, it was her. Prince Thor did one better, he replaced the entire kitchen staff, ensuring that the finest food was prepared for everyone in the palace. He made it very clear that if anyone was served less than what was expected, they would face the gallows. Since then,Lady Cyan’s figure has filled out, and she looks much healthier, with her own strength returning.

She also found herself a new accountant. Prince Thor and I convinced her not to continue relying on Voss, given his negligence. Instead, I helped her hire a young man named Edric Hale. He seemed sharp, rigid, and incredibly thorough, like someone who wouldn’t let anything slip by unnoticed. And I was right, Edric was so good at his job that he not only fixed inconsistencies within Lady Cyans books but uncovered six more individuals committing fraud under the royal name. It wasn’t long before Voss was removed from his post, and Hale was promoted to Royal Financial Advisor.

Even Prince Thor’s courtier was replaced, as I recommended Sir Alistair Graves during the hiring process.He was tall, unsettling, and mysterious, Alistair's appearance drew questions from Prince Thor and Lady Cyan alike, but Alistair soon proved himself to be an invaluable asset.I was right again.

Surprisingly, Thor and Alistair developed a close bond, despite his eerie demeanor.

After all this, Lady Cyan finally had time to hire her own ladies-in-waiting. To my amusement, Lady Jane and Lady Sharon applied for the position. Needless to say, they weren’t hired. I took personal joy in turning them down during the vetting process. Instead, Lady Cyan appointed Lady Natasha Romanoff and Lady Pepper Potts, both competent and trustworthy. As the wedding drew closer, the palace bustled with preparations, fully ready to receive her as the Crowned Princess of Asgard.

The first time I noticed Queen Freya's distaste for me, it was subtle, a cold glance from across the room as I sat with Lady Cyan during a court gathering. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Surely, a queen had more important matters to concern herself with than a mere lady-in-waiting. But as the weeks passed, it became clear: it wasn’t just a glance,it was a warning.

Every time Lady Cyan made progress, especially with my guidance, Queen Freya's irritation grew more obvious.

I remember standing in the corner of the throne room when Vivienne was escorted out by the guards. Queen Freya had been across the hall, watching. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something, annoyance, perhaps even hatred. I had facilitated that firing, and she knew it.

Later, as I escorted Lady Cyan from the council room, the Queen called out to me, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade.

"Lady Honey," she began, forcing me to turn back. "You've done such a... thorough job cleaning up the mess around the palace." The way she said "thorough" was laced with disdain. "Though, I do wonder, have you left anything for Lady Cyan to do herself?"

I bristled at the remark, but I kept my expression neutral. "Her Highness has made all the decisions. I simply advised her where necessary." I could not allow my mouth to ruin this for me.

The Queen smiled that thin, humorless smile of hers. "Of course. But do be careful. A lady of your... talents should know when to step back. We wouldn’t want to overshadow the future princess, now, would we?"

The words cut deeper than intended. She wasn’t praising me. She was warning me. I was doing too much, and that didn’t sit well with her.

As Lady Cyan continued to gain confidence, Freya’s hostility grew. When Thor replaced the kitchen staff, I could see the Queen’s patience slipping further. I once overheard her speaking to Hela’s remaining ladies-in-waiting about how “some people simply don’t know their place” as I passed through the halls. I had no doubt she was referring to me.

It all came to a head during one of our morning meetings. I was assisting Cyan with the latest preparations for her upcoming wedding, ensuring all the details were perfect, when Queen Freya entered the room, her presence like a sudden frost in the air.

"Lady Honey," she addressed me without looking directly at Cyan. "It seems you’ve become quite indispensable. How fortunate for Lady Cyan."

I curtsied, though my stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

"You've certainly made an impression," she continued, her voice sharp, "but one wonders if you've made the right kind."

There was no mistake in her meaning. I had been far too effective in my role, far too supportive of Cyan. Queen Freya wasn’t just irritated anymore, she was furious.

Unfortunately, during all of this, I had to deal with Prince Loki breathing down my neck. He insisted on my company far too often, even intruding on Lady Cyan’s morning teas, meant for us to go over her itinerary. He was relentless.

One morning, after Loki had finally left, opting to go train I couldn’t hold back. “That man is infuriating,” I muttered, still editing the itinerary.

“You mean Prince Loki of Asgard?” Lady Romanoff asked with a smirk.

“Who else?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I think it’s sweet that he’s found interest in you,” Lady Potts chimed in, her words slightly tentative. “And, well, at least you’d know your future is secure if you married him.” She was prone to putting her foot in her mouth without realizing it.

I gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “Did you manage to find a venue for the next royal tea party?”

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly handing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of available venues for the date we need. I’ve marked the ones that would be most appropriate.”

Despite her occasional blunders, Potts was excellent at her job. I could always count on her efficiency.

With new ladies-in-waiting and the right servants, Lady Cyan was finally surrounded by a supportive circle. Her transformation was undeniable, and I was proud to have played a role in it.

Lady Cyan’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “Would it be so wrong to consider Prince Loki?”

I nearly scoffed. “If I were interested, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” she suggested, her large doe eyes gazing at me earnestly.

I sighed. I was ready to dismiss the notion entirely, but those eyes… “I’ll think about it,” I conceded, though the thought made me cringe inwardly.

“That’s all I ask,” Cyan said with a sweet smile.

I shook my head, standing up. “I’ll be back. I need to confirm a few numbers with Edric.” I made my way to the door, hearing the giggles of the other ladies as I left the room.

It took a tremendous amount of work, but for the first time, I felt I had done right by Lady Cyan. She had a proper support system now, and she was ready to step into her role as Crowned Princess of Asgard.

As I walked down the palace halls toward accounting, my footsteps slowed as I passed the training grounds. There, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was Prince Loki, sparring with one of the knights. His lean, muscular form moved with precision, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself, yes, Prince Loki was a very handsome man. But he was oh so arrogant.

Not to mention, something about him made me uncomfortable, a discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. It was the same feeling I got around Duke Bruce and, on occasion, even Prince Thor. Maybe it had something to do with their high positions of power or the way they carried themselves with an air of control. Whatever it was, I had no interest in exploring it further.

Before I could turn away, I caught Loki’s eye. His gaze locked onto mine, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he waved. My heart skipped a beat, but not from admiration, it was more like a warning bell. I quickly dispersed, pretending not to notice, and rushed down the corridor toward Lord Hale’s office.

After finishing my business with Lord Hale, I made my way back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, feeling a sense of relief that the conversation had gone smoothly. But midway through my return, I found myself stopped by none other than Loki himself.

“May I help you, Prince Loki?” I asked stiffly, my posture rigid as I forced myself to remain composed.

A playful grin adorned his face, and his tone was laced with flirtation. “Oh, nothing in particular, just wanting to chat with the pretty girl who’s managed to turn the palace upside down.”

I straightened my spine. “You mean right side up,” I corrected coolly.

Prince Loki chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. “Well, regardless. Tonight, I’m headed to a gathering. A close friend of mine is planning to ask for a woman’s hand in marriage. Quite the event.And I was wondering if you’d like to attend” he pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “With me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend,” I replied curtly. “I have a gathering of my own tonight.”

He chuckled again,as if he had some kind of secret,  clearly entertained by my formality. “Well, shoot. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together sometime.”

I forced a polite smile. “Of course.” I curtsied briefly, making it clear the conversation was over, and headed back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, the unsettling feeling from earlier creeping back into my chest.

“Do you want me to say something?” I’d asked her multiple times, my voice filled with the urge to protect her, but she always refused, her shy voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she’d insist, and despite my frustration, I respected her decision. So tonight, as always, I played the role of silent protector, standing close to her, watching her every move, and his.

The party was filled with the usual noble chatter and laughter, but I found no comfort in it. Saffron’s uneasy smile, her fidgeting hands, and Duke Bruce’s ever-watchful eyes were the only things I could focus on.

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt someone brush close behind me, their breath warm against my ear. “Hello, Honey.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.Prince Loki. Of course. His voice carried that teasing edge, filled with amusement and arrogance, as if this was all a game to him.

I glanced over my shoulder, my irritation barely concealed. “Are you following me, Prince Loki?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on me as though he found the situation endlessly entertaining. “Following you? No, darling, I’m here for a special moment.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. “And what moment might that be?” I asked, my words clipped.

His smirk widened as he casually nodded toward the center of the room. “That one,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

I followed his gaze and froze. My heart sank as I saw Duke Bruce Banner on one knee, proposing to Saffron in front of the entire room. She stood there, pale and trembling, but with all eyes on her, there was no way out. Her lips moved in slow motion, forming the dreaded word. “Yes.”

Applause filled the room as the crowd celebrated the engagement, toasting to their future. Saffron’s eyes darted toward me, wide with panic, but all I could do was stare, powerless to stop what was happening.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement,” he said, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems Duke Banner will soon be family.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight with barely concealed rage. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Bruce is a close friend of mine. He’s been planning this for some time.”

I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my composure as I watched Saffron, my heart aching for her. Loki’s smug smile felt like salt in the wound. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Honey,” he added, his tone mocking. “I’m sure there will be more surprises to come.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, helpless as my sister’s fate was sealed before my eyes.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress and unanswered questions. Saffron’s engagement to Duke Banner weighed heavily on my mind, though she insisted everything was fine. I knew better. Every night she would come to me, her face tight with worry, sharing how uncomfortable everything made her feel. I’d offered her an out, told her we could make a formal request to call off the engagement, but she refused. She was too afraid of disappointing our parents, especially our mother.

“Everything will be fine,” she’d said with that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes. It made me furious, but I couldn’t force her hand. All I could do was stand by her, ready to step in if things went too far.

And then there was Lady Cyan. Rumors had spread quickly about her being ill, though I had my doubts. Something about it felt... off. The palace was rife with gossip, and yet Prince Thor, always the picture of calm, didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he appeared more focused than ever.

My attempts to see her had been blocked at every turn. Alistair, ever the watchful guard, was always there, standing between me and the answers I sought. A time where I’d tried to visit her, I was met with him stepping out of her chambers just as I approached. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Lady Cyan is resting,” he’d said, his tone polite but firm. His cold, calculating eyes met mine without so much as a flicker of guilt. I couldn’t stand how easily he lied to my face. "She needs her privacy."

“She’s been resting for weeks,” I shot back, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Surely she could spare a moment?”

Alistair didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Her health is delicate. If you truly care for her well-being, you'll give her time.”

His words were a steel wall, and I had no choice but to retreat, fuming. But I didn’t stop trying. Each day, I attempted to get close, whether it was checking in through the maids or attempting another visit myself,but Alistair was always there, standing guard like some immovable sentry.

Pepper and Natasha told me to let it go, that if Prince Thor said she was unwell, it was best to leave it at that. But I couldn’t. Something in my gut told me that there was more to it. And as the days passed, that gnawing suspicion only grew stronger.

It didn’t help that Loki seemed intent on feeding into my doubts, though his information came in small, tantalizing pieces. Each time we crossed paths, he would drop a hint, a little morsel of knowledge that made my curiosity burn brighter. He never gave me the full picture, just enough to keep me coming back for more.

I had just finished reviewing some paperwork with Edric when I stepped out into the hallway. Prince Loki was there, casually leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His eyes immediately found mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Lady Honey,” he greeted, his tone smooth. “Busy day?”

“Always,” I muttered, not in the mood for small talk. “Do you need something?”

He pushed off the wall, sauntering over to me, his presence impossible to ignore. “Not at all. Just curious how Lady Cyan is faring.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, hinting at something beneath the surface.

I stiffened, trying to mask my surprise. “She’s unwell, or so I’ve been told,” I replied carefully, eyeing him. “You would know that if you bothered to ask.”

Prince Loki chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to grab my chin. “Oh, I ask plenty of questions, my dear. Just not to the right people, apparently.” His touch lingered longer than necessary, and before I could say anything, he stepped back with a knowing smile. “Keep an eye on her,” he added, his tone soft but carrying weight.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Days had passed, and Prince Loki’s cryptic comments continued to nag at me. I was heading down the palace corridor, lost in thought, when I felt a sudden arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace. Prince Loki again.

“You always seem so tense, Lady Honey,” he teased, his voice close to my ear. “What has you so worked up this time?”

I tried to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place, his warmth both irritating and oddly comforting. “Prince Loki, I have work to do,” I grumbled. “This isn’t the time.”

He laughed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go. “Is it ever? You’re always working, always investigating. I wonder... what would you do if you found something you weren’t supposed to?”

I stilled at his words, the weight of them sinking in. He knew something. “What are you implying?”

He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say... not everyone in the palace is who they seem. Keep digging, and you might be surprised at what you find.”

I pulled away from him, trying to regain my composure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful,” he replied with a wink before walking off, leaving me even more frustrated than before.

I was pouring over documents late one evening when Prince Loki appeared out of nowhere, his presence once again unsettling but familiar. He stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my back as he leaned in.

“Still working, I see,” he murmured. “Do you ever rest?”

I tensed at the closeness, but his hand was gentle, not imposing. “Someone has to do the work around here,” I replied dryly, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he mused, his fingers lightly tracing down my spine before lifting away. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re just looking for something you shouldn’t be finding.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you ever going to just tell me what you know, or are you going to keep playing these games?”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that, my dear? Sometimes, the best discoveries are made through patience... and persistence.”

Before I could respond, he was gone again, leaving only the faint warmth where his hand had been. 

I stormed through the palace halls, my frustration building with every step. This was the fourth time I’d been turned away from seeing Lady Cyan, and I wasn’t about to let Alistair dismiss me again. My pulse quickened as I approached her chambers, my mind already preparing for a confrontation.

As soon as I reached the door, there he was, Alistair, standing outside with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for me. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Move aside,” I said sharply, not caring how harsh I sounded. “I’m seeing Lady Cyan whether you like it or not.”

Alistair didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed and straightened, blocking the entrance with his large frame. “Young One,” he began in that infuriatingly calm voice, “how many times must we go through this? Lady Cyan is ill, and Prince Thor is taking excellent care of her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “Every time I’ve tried to see her, it’s been the same excuse. Do you think I’m some fool who will just let it go because you keep repeating the same thing? Lady Cyan hasn’t been seen for days!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And she won’t be seen until she’s recovered. Now, go back to your duties.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. “I’m not a child, Alistair! Don’t treat me like one just because you don’t have the decency to tell me what’s actually going on. You think I’m blind to what’s happening?”

Alistair stared at me, unfazed by my outburst. Then, to my utter fury, he reached out and gently patted me on the head, as if I were some bothersome child. “Young One,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone, “you should focus on your own work and let Prince Thor handle LadCyan. You’re only going to exhaust yourself meddling in things you don’t understand.”

I slapped his hand away, my blood boiling at the insult. “You can’t keep me away from her forever, Alistair.”

He merely shrugged, unfazed. “Perhaps not, but for now, you should go. I won’t tell you again.”

My teeth ground together, but I knew I couldn’t push him further without making a scene. I had no choice but to turn around and leave, but the fire of frustration burned deep in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this go, not by a long shot.

As I walked away, I could still feel Alistair’s patronizing pat on my head, and it only fueled my determination. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what.

The royal wedding was only a few days away, and I’d reached my breaking point. The palace had become a den of whispers and secrets, and it seemed that the closer we got to the wedding, the more the air thickened with lies. I had tried everything, pushing past Alistair, confronting Prince Thor’s other courtiers, even pleading with Lady Natasha and Lady Pepper to help me get to LadyCyan. But all paths led to closed doors.

And Prince Loki  with his cryptic words, his teasing smiles, and half-baked hints. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed through the palace halls, not caring who saw me. My feet led me to the Royal Garden, where I knew he’d be. He always found some quiet corner to lounge in, away from the royal duties he couldn’t be bothered with. Sure enough, there he was, seated by the fountain, leaning back like a man without a care in the world. He hadn’t seen me yet, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap.

“Prince Loki!” I hissed, my voice cutting through the peaceful evening air. His eyes snapped open, a smirk already curling his lips as he straightened, watching me approach.

“Well, well, Lady Honey. I was wondering when you’d come seeking my company,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. He pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What brings you to me so... heatedly?”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me what’s going on with Lady Cyan.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few slow steps toward me. “And what makes you think I’ll just give you the answers you seek?”

“Because you know something!” I shouted, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been dropping hints for weeks, playing with me like a cat with a mouse, and I’m done! I need to know what’s happening to her!”

Prince Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my outburst. He circled me slowly, as if appraising me. “Oh, my dear Lady Honey, I do know many things. But nothing comes for free in this world.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want?”

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “A kiss.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“A kiss,” he repeated, his voice low and velvety. “Give me one, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I stared at him, stunned. This was a new game. A dangerous one. “You’re joking.”

His eyes darkened, and the smirk on his face faded slightly, replaced with something more... possessive. “I never, Lady Honey.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. A kiss? For information? It felt wrong. But I had to know. I needed to understand what was happening, why Cyan had suddenly vanished behind locked doors, why everyone was pretending everything was fine.

With reluctance weighing heavily on me, I nodded. “Fine.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more victorious. Before I could even prepare myself, he stepped forward, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. His grip was firm, and the heat of his body was overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate , his lips crashed down on mine, strong and possessive, swallowing my breath. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, and claiming. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me even closer, while his other hand gripped my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t relent. His fingers dug into my waist, his body pressing me tightly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His lips moved with a fierceness that stole the air from my lungs, and when I tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding me in place.

The kiss grew rougher, more demanding. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my thigh. He groped me as if I were his to take, his hold possessive, his body commanding.

My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was paralyzed. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and something else , something I didn’t want to name. His lips moved over mine, devouring me, until I was left breathless, gasping against him.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, my knees weak. I could hardly catch my breath as I stared up at him, my lips swollen, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and hungry, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Lady Honey,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

I tried to steady my breathing, still reeling from the kiss. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Loki didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still firmly gripping my waist. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against mine in an almost affectionate manner, a contrast to the possessive way he had kissed me moments earlier.

He pressed his lips softly to my forehead, lingering for a moment as his breath fanned over my skin. “Thor has been spending a lot of time with Cyan,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Alone. Uninterrupted. But she’s not ill. Not at all.”

His hand slid lower, caressing my side as he spoke, his lips brushing against my hair. “They’ve been keeping her in her chambers, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Loki’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Because she’s trapped, just like you, little honeybee. Thor has no intention of letting her go.”

I stared at him, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach.

The day after my tense encounter with Loki, I finally managed to see Lady Cyan. She was glowing, radiant even, but her expression, her eyes, told a different story. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I rushed forward and embraced her tightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice low, laced with concern.

Pepper and Natasha, standing nearby with knowing smiles, seemed to think my worry was misplaced. “Honey, had been worried sick about you,” Natasha said, her tone light, almost dismissive of the tension that clung to me. It was as if they were brushing off the entire ordeal.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cyan answered, but her eyes,they were haunted. Despite her soft smile, there was a sadness there that pulled at my chest.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. Something was wrong, and as the days leading up to the wedding crept by, I tried to coax her into talking. She remained tight-lipped, her melancholy growing more apparent, but she wouldn’t say a word.

Prince Loki, who had been dropping hints and playing his games, was nowhere to be found during this time. It should have unsettled me, but I was too focused on Lady Cyan to care.

Then, the day of the royal wedding arrived. It was the grandest affair Asgard had ever seen, extravagant, dazzling, and utterly flawless in its execution. Everyone was there, dressed to the nines, and the entire kingdom celebrated the union of Crown Prince Thor and Princess Cyan.

But then, during the reception, Princess Cyan disappeared.

I knew where to find her.

I followed my instincts, weaving my way through the palace grounds until I reached the Royal Forest. There, in the center of the garden, was a bench where she sat, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Princess Cyan?” I whispered as I approached. She looked up at me, her eyes red, streaked with tears.

Without a word, I sat beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, stroking her hair as she cried.This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Or so I’ve heard.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she extended her hand. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing me her wedding ring.

I frowned. “It’s your wedding ring, of course.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. “No, Honey, it’s a Vowthorn.”

Confusion filled me as I studied the ring more closely. My blood ran cold as I saw it—tiny thorns lining the underside, almost imperceptible unless you looked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again, and before I could stop her, she tugged at the ring. To my horror, pieces of her skin began to tear as she tried to remove it. Blood welled at the edges, and I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “Princess Cyan, stop!” I cried, my heart pounding.

“I can never take it off,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I’m bound to him, Honey. Forever.”

My eyes widened as I stared at her bloody finger, my stomach churning with revulsion. The thorns had sunk into her flesh, marking her, chaining her to Prince Thor in a way far crueler than I could have imagined.

“Princess Cyan.”

Alistair’s voice broke through the moment, his presence looming as he stepped out from the shadows of the trees. “Your husband is looking for you,” he said calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Princess Cyan wiped her eyes, standing slowly as she gave me one last, heart-wrenching hug. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

I held her tightly for a moment before releasing her, watching helplessly as she walked toward Alistair. He smiled, cold, knowing, and I could only stand there, frozen, as he gently escorted her back to the party.

I felt my heart twist, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Do you understand now?”

Prince Loki had emerged from the shadows, lurking like the serpent he always was. I didn’t bother looking at him, my gaze still fixed on the spot where Cyan had disappeared, her broken form haunting my thoughts.

If I were being honest, I didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But there was one thing I was almost certain of.

“He’s harming her,” I said aloud, unable to shake the memory of her fear, the wedding ring that tore into her skin when she dared to remove it. “But why? I thought he loved her.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest. It grated on my nerves, and I finally turned to stare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, his smirk both infuriating and dangerous. “Hardly harming her,” he corrected, his tone dripping with amusement. “There may be a bit of pain involved, yes... but the pleasure, from what I’ve heard, is immaculate.” His voice deepens

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. “What in gods’ name are you babbling about, Loki?”

He chuckled darkly, as if I were some naïve child. “Thor is playing a different game, Honey. One where control is disguised as love, and desire is wrapped in thorns. You see, your dear crowned prince has no intention of letting his bride go. Not ever.”

My stomach twisted. "That doesn't explain the ring. The pain."

Prince Loki's gaze softened, almost mockingly. “Ah, but pain and pleasure often intertwine. Thor’s made sure she feels both, he wants her to be bound to him in every way. The ring, the restrictions, they serve a purpose beyond mere possession. It’s a reminder. That no matter how much she may try to escape, she’ll always come back to him.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising in me like a tide. "You're saying he's... manipulating her into staying?"

"Isn't that what marriage often is?" Loki raised an eyebrow, his voice deceptively light. He moved closer, until the heat of his body was almost touching mine. "But don’t think of it as cruelty. In Thor’s eyes, it’s love. Just a... particular kind."

I felt sick. "And you? Do you condone it?"

Prince Loki leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t condone or condemn. I observe. And I act when it suits me.” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "As I’ve been observing you."

A shiver ran down my spine. His presence, his words, it was all too much. I stepped back, trying to put distance between us, but Loki only smirked, as if he enjoyed seeing me unsettled.

He gestured toward the path Princess Cyan and Alistair had taken. “If you really want to know what’s happening, you’re asking the wrong questions. Thor loves her, yes, but his love is one that consumes, one that binds. Just like the ring on her finger.” His eyes gleamed. "The real question is, how far will he go to keep her?"

Before I could even think of leaving,Prince Loki’s slender fingers grab around my neck, his grip deceptively strong. He yanked me closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my stomach churn with both fear and an unexpected flicker of something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Now, then,” Loki whispered in a voice as smooth as velvet, his lips barely brushing my ear. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Let go of me!” I demanded, my voice shaking but defiant as I pushed against his chest, trying to create distance. But it was no use, he barely moves, his frame lean yet unyielding as if carved from stone.

“Now, now, little Honey,” he purred, his tone dripping with a sick sort of amusement. “You’ve been so curious about what’s happening to sweet Cyan... I think it’s only fair I show you ”

His lips descended on mine with a force that took my breath away. I gasped, my body instinctively tensing at the sudden invasion. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation, his kiss demanding, harsh, and unforgiving.

My hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but it was futile. Loki was everywhere. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as though he intended to merge us into one being. His other hand roamed, sliding down my back, groping and kneading as if he were staking his claim.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and I could feel his fingers curling into the fabric of my gown, tugging me impossibly closer. His lips moved against mine, rough and unrelenting, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees buckle.

"L-Loki—" I tried to speak, to push him away, but my voice was swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his hand trailing lower, grabbing my hip and squeezing with enough force to make me gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing mine in a cruel mockery of tenderness. "You’ve wanted this, Honey. Don’t pretend otherwise."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine, stealing my breath once more. His hands slid down to my backside, gripping and pulling me against him in a way that left no space between us. I could feel every inch of him, his body pressed tightly to mine as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.

His lips left mine only to trail down the side of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I whimpered as he nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh just enough to send a bolt of heat through me.

"You’re mine now," he growled against my skin, his voice low and possessive. "Don’t think for a second you can escape me."

His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, and the dip of my back. His touch was rough, insistent, as though he was marking me with every stroke of his fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear, and confusion

I've never done anything like this before, I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. For the first time in my life, I feared what would happened next.

Loki's grip tightened, his hands digging into my flesh as if daring me to try and escape. But there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made me want to run and hide. His thumb traced the line of my jaw as he smirked down at me, his lips swollen from the kiss.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My head smacked against the cold earth, a sharp pain shooting through my skull as the world spun for a moment.

Using my confusion as an opportunity, Loki climbed on top of me, forcibly lifting my skirts and ripping apart my undergarments.

“Wait” I called out “Loki! Please! No!” my pleas falling on deaf ears as I heard and felt him shuffle about.

I tried to get up, but this only caused Loki to grab my neck once more, shoving my head back into the ground. The pressure on my neck causing me to still.

All at once, I feel a searing pain in my nether regions, and Loki growls with what I can only assume is pleasure. I begin digging my nails into his arm and dragging them down. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

The anguish squeezing every bit of breath I had in my body.

He takes one look at my face, at the agony and discomfort he was causing, and he laughed loudly.

“You are a virgin?” he asks, shock laced into his voice.

I swallow, whimpers escape me as I try to breathe through the torment.

“And you worry about the whore?”

He begins moving his body against mine the pain sharp, and persistent, a deep, stretching discomfort catching me off guard. Distress overtaking me as tears fell down my face. It felt as if a fresh wound had been torn open, and he was mercilessly digging into it, over and over, each movement sending waves of torment through me.

A pressure that started small but grew with every motion, my muscles tensing instinctively. It wasn’t just the physical sting; there was an emotional weight behind it too. A feeling of vulnerability, of crossing a threshold I could never return from. It was unbearable, and far from pleasant, a blend of confusion and distress mixed with the ache.

With every grunt and growl Loki worked to steal away my innocence. I became tired, my arms dropped to my side as I allowed him what he wanted. I still cried to myself wondering when this would be over.

He removed his hand from my neck, planting both firmly on to the ground as he worked to move faster. Finally, just when I felt that I could take no more he lets out a final roar pushing himself as deep as he could inside me, causing me to cry out in pain,before collapsing on my worn body.

"See?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "I told you, Honey. You’re mine."

I stared up at him, panting, my mind still spinning from the events that occurred.

He stood, fixing himself before leaving me on the ground with a chuckle.

I had never felt so ashamed, to allow something so awful to happen to me. I move into a fetal position, wondering where I went wrong.

Afterwards when Prince Loki stood up and fixed his garments I chose to lay on the ground for what felt like hours, my body aching, my mind swirling in the haze of disbelief. Used, humiliated, and utterly broken, I could hardly muster the strength to move. The cool earth beneath me felt foreign, much like the shell of my own body. I wanted to scream, to cry, but the exhaustion and shame anchored me to the ground.

Eventually, reality clawed its way back in. I still had to go home. As battered as I was, I couldn’t allow myself to be found like this. I still had my family’s dignity to uphold, fragile though it was. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the vile memories of what had just happened. Loki's touch lingered on my skin, searing like a brand I’d never erase. But I had to get up. I had no choice.

With trembling arms, I pushed myself off the cold ground. Every movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through my body. My dress was filthy, covered in dirt and torn in places. My hair, usually so neatly kept, hung in tangled clumps around my face. I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears had long since dried. I felt like a ghost of the woman I was when I arrived.

My legs shook as I took one step, then another. My body protested, but I bit back the groan of agony and pressed on. I couldn’t afford to be found here. Not like this.

It was a miracle no one had come across me. The palace grounds had plenty of hidden corners, but in this state, I felt exposed, vulnerable. With every faltering step, I felt the weight of what had been stolen from me. I was no longer Honey Duval, the thorny, snarky daughter of a struggling Baroness. I had become something else entirely.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the palace. There were still people milling about, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that raged inside me. I kept my head low, pulling my ruined dress around me to hide the worst of the damage. I prayed that no one would take a second look, that no one would notice the way I limped toward the line of carriages.

I spotted an empty one, its driver standing idly by. I approached him as steadily as I could, my voice a ragged whisper as I asked, “Take me home.”

The driver, with barely a glance, helped me inside, and I sank into the seat, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. The door shut, and with the soft lurch of the carriage, I felt myself collapse inward.

I managed to stumble my way through the door without a soul in sight. The house was still and quiet, no sign of my family. Of course, they were all still at the wedding. My parents, Saffron, even Bruce, none of them would have noticed I was missing yet. That gave me some relief, though it was fleeting.

The servants had long retired to their quarters for the night. There was no one to see me in this state, no judgmental eyes to pry at my disheveled hair and filthy gown. I was grateful for the emptiness of the estate.

I moved quietly through the halls, each step painful, my body still aching from the night’s cruelty. When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it and letting out a ragged breath. My legs gave out from under me, and I slid to the floor, my dress pooling around me in a tattered mess.

I could still feel Loki’s hands on me, the weight of his body, his mocking smile as he took everything I had left. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise.

I was falling apart.

With shaking hands, I dragged myself to the mirror, catching sight of the wreck I had become. My eyes hollow, my hair tangled and dirty, my dress in ruins. I could barely recognize myself.

I stripped off my ruined dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Every inch of my body ached, bruises I hadn’t noticed earlier now flaring with every movement. My mind was clouded with the horrors of what had transpired, but I knew one thing,I needed to wash it all away.

The bathwater was scalding as I stepped in, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the heat, letting it burn my skin, hoping it could sear away the filth that clung to me. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder than I ever had before. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of his hands, his breath on my neck, the unbearable weight of him.

Loki’s sins clung to me like a second skin, and no amount of scrubbing could make them disappear.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time I couldn’t stop them. They fell silently, mixing with the water, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let this break me—not yet. I had to keep going. I had to find a way to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, I dragged myself out of the tub, my skin tender and sore. I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I dressed quickly, slipping into a nightgown, my body trembling with every movement. Each bruise, each ache, was a reminder of what had happened, of what I had endured.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheets around me as tightly as I could. I wanted to disappear, to become invisible, but the memories wouldn’t let me. They played over and over in my mind, tormenting me, reminding me that I was no longer the person I had been just hours before.

As the night deepened, I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, my body too heavy to move, my mind too shattered to rest.

The morning after the... incident, I went to work, doing my best to avoid Loki like the plague. Thankfully, he wasn't lurking anywhere near me, but my focus stayed on my work, burying myself in it to ignore the memory of last night.

Princess Cyan was finally available today, but something was off. She was quieter than usual, almost distant, her glow subdued. I glanced around the room, noticing Natasha and Pepper were unusually silent too. The whole room felt heavy, but I was too preoccupied with my work to dwell on it. There were more pressing things to address,or so I thought.

Queen Freya had summoned me.

When the notice arrived, I paused, the paper trembling in my hands. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I kept my composure as I made my way to the Queen’s receiving room. What could she possibly want? Had something else gone wrong?

The air in Queen Freya’s receiving room was as cold and stiff as the Queen herself. I stood quietly, waiting for her to get to the point of summoning me here. She'd been polite enough, making small talk about the weather and my family’s well-being, but her eyes never softened. Not for a moment.

It wasn’t long before she finally sat back in her chair and sighed, an air of finality in her voice. "Honey, you’ve done quite a remarkable job assisting... Princess Cyan." The way she said "Princess" made it sound like an insult rather than a title. "But I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

I blinked, completely thrown. "Your Majesty, may I ask what I’ve done wrong?"

She folded her hands and looked at me with the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "It’s not about wrongdoing, per se. But your absence on the night of the wedding was entirely unprofessional. We cannot risk something like that happening again. What if Princess Cyan needed you? You were nowhere to be found."

My heart raced. That night… my time spent with PrincesCyan had been brief before I stumbled upon her secret. I knew better than to mention it. "Your Majesty, I—"

"There’s no need for explanations, dear," she cut me off sharply. "I am well aware that you have been rather... vocal in your support for Princess Cyan. Too vocal, perhaps."

There it was. The truth. Queen Freya’s gaze flickered, revealing the venom she had been holding back. It wasn’t about my absence or my professionalism. This had nothing to do with any potential failure on my part.

"Your service to her has been... commendable," she continued, her tone laced with condescension. "But it’s not what is needed at court. We must think of the future of Asgard, and Princess Cyan’s role. You... would do better to think of your own future outside these palace walls."

I stood there, stunned into silence.

"There are no second chances in court, Honey. You must understand that. You’re dismissed."

It hit me like a blow. All my work, all my effort to support Princess Cyan, to make sure she was respected, treated as she should be, would be undone by a queen who saw her as a blemish. And I was simply collateral.

I gathered myself, curtsying. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As I walked out of the receiving room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the power Queen Freya wielded. This wasn’t about professionalism or duty. This was about control.

Mother’s eyes blazed with fury, the air between us crackling with her frustration. I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, trying to steady my breathing, but the storm in her gaze only grew.

"What could you have possibly done?" she spat, pacing in front of me like a lioness ready to strike. "Did you offend someone again? Oh, did you open your big mouth to the wrong person this time?"

I flinched at her words, though I knew better than to respond too quickly. I kept my head down, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the rug beneath my feet, as if I could disappear into the floor. Her accusations, though harsh, were nothing new.

She stopped pacing, turning to me with that piercing look that always left me feeling smaller than I was. "Speak, Honey. What have you done? You must have done something, or you wouldn’t have been fired as Princess Cyan’s lady-in-waiting! So what was it?"

I stayed silent, my throat tight with the truth I couldn’t say. She wouldn’t understand, not now, not ever. And even if I told her everything, how would I explain Loki?

Her voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and biting. "Answer me!" she demanded. "Do you know what you’ve caused? To be dismissed from court like some common servant, disgraceful! You’ve brought shame upon this family."

I swallowed, the words heavy on my tongue, but none of them would make a difference. My mother was looking for someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.

Her gaze darkened, filled with suspicion. “So you’ve nothing to say? No defense for yourself?”

I shook my head. "No, Mother. Nothing."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down as if searching for some clue, some evidence of the disgrace I’d caused.

Her lips curled into a sneer

It was another day of being reprimanded by her. But this time, it stung more than usual. Saffron wasn’t here to soften the blow, to offer that silent comfort only a sister could. No, she was off with Bruce’s mother, going over preparations for her own wedding, blissfully unaware of the disaster that had become my life.

I stood there, feeling the weight of my mother’s words, the shame and frustration building up like a dam about to break. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back. Could I even tell her what had really happened? Could I tell her about Loki, about the things that I didn’t even want to think about, let alone speak aloud?

"Answer me, Honey!" my mother snapped, her impatience rising.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I rushed past her, ignoring the startled look on her face. I needed to get away, to hide. I fled to my room, slamming the door behind me as the tears finally broke free.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to hear anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. This life, this shame, this pain,I couldn’t bear it.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, wishing for everything to just disappear.

Weeks had passed, and I was growing weaker with each day. 

I stayed silent. Lying in bed, withering away, my body betraying me as much as my mind. What could I possibly say? What could my family do if I did tell them? Loki was the Prince of Asgard, untouchable by anyone in our position. And with Saffron dealing with her own issues with the Duke, I couldn’t add more burden to the family.

From what I knew, Saffron wanted to delay the wedding—push it back a year or two, give them time to get to know each other better. But The Duke refused, insisting that he could hardly wait the few days left until they were to be married. The fear in Saffron’s eyes was clear as day. She was terrified, but with me having been fired from the palace, she felt like she had no other choice. Bruce was our only hope of pulling the Duvals out of the pit of "nonexistence," as my mother had begun to call it.

I tried to tell Saffron that she always had a choice, that there was another way, but she wouldn’t listen. The weight of saving the family seemed to matter more to her than saving herself.

We were walking through the Duval garden when I could feel my body rebelling again. Saffron had convinced me that fresh air might do me good, that perhaps I was simply exhausted from being cooped up for so long. But I felt nauseous, my head swimming. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned over, vomiting into the bushes, and before I knew it, everything went black.

When I woke, I was surrounded by my family. Saffron, my father, and my mother, along with a doctor who was wiping his hands clean on a cloth. My mother was hovering over me, panicked, her voice shrill as she called my name. My father stood by, trying to calm her down, while Saffron sat silently at the edge of the bed, her face pale.

"She's awake," my father sighed in relief.

I blinked, trying to shake the fog from my mind. "What happened?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You've fainted, Lady Honey, but you're alright now. However, there’s something else... You’re with child.”

The words hit me like a boulder.

"That’s impossible," I muttered, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. The memory of Loki’s hands on me flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist.

"I think you know how this happened," the doctor said, his tone professional but laced with an understanding that made the room feel even heavier.

Silence fell, and the air grew thick with tension. My mother was the first to break it, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Who is the father? Who have you been with?" Her words came sharp and fast, like a blade cutting through me.

I said nothing. What could I say? How could I explain something I barely had the strength to acknowledge myself?

My father quietly ushered the doctor out of the room, but Saffron remained, her face frozen in shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

My mother’s voice rose again, frantic now. "Who is the father, Honey? Answer me!" Her hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, but still, I stayed silent.

I couldn’t bring myself to utter Loki’s name. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—I’ll..." My mother’s voice cracked, her eyes wild as she searched for something that might break me. She straightened, her face flushed with frustration. "I’ll send you to your Aunt Gertrude."

I blinked, the words settling in the air like an empty threat. Aunt Gertrude. As a child, her name had been synonymous with punishment. The strange spinster, cast aside by the family for reasons never fully explained to me and my sister. I used to shudder at the mere mention of her name, but now... now, the thought of being sent to her estate didn’t stir the same fear it once did.

In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having a true reason to fear Aunt Gertrude. She was an outcast, yes. Blamed for the Duvals’ declining status in society. But what had she really done? No one had ever told me.

Maybe it was because she was different, unconventional, and refused to play the endless games of high society. Or maybe it was because she didn’t fit into the mold my mother had set for the family.

And now, I was beginning to realize... I might not either.

I was much too tired to fight, to resist the weight of my mother’s constant reproach. My head ached, and the room spun slightly as I forced myself to sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. Her threat hung in the air between us, but the words that escaped me were softer than I intended, drained of their sting.

"Then send me," I said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t care anymore."

She recoiled as if I’d struck her. "How dare you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "After all we’ve done for you, after everything our family has sacrificed, this is how you repay us?"

I turned my head, gazing out of the window as she raged. My chest felt hollow, my heart heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, perhaps I cared too much, but what could I do?

She stood abruptly, the anger still palpable in the air between us. "You’ll leave for Gertrude’s after Saffron’s wedding, she will be in attendance, and will take you with her when she leaves" she declared, her voice colder now, resolved. "And don’t expect us to welcome you back anytime soon."

I nodded silently, still looking away. As she left the room, I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the pillows. A strange calm washed over me. The threat of being sent to Aunt Gertrude no longer loomed like it once had.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the less frightening it seemed.

Aunt Gertrude had been cast out for being different, for failing to meet society’s expectations. Maybe, just maybe, I had more in common with her than anyone else in this family.

Saffron looked radiant but terrified. Her eyes darted across the grand hall, her smile faltering every time someone came too close. I should have objected to this marriage, but I couldn't. Not for lack of love or loyalty,no, I simply couldn't find the energy within myself. The truth was, I had no reason to.

On paper, Duke Bruce Banner was everything one could hope for. Powerful, wealthy, and above all else, terrifyingly loyal to Saffron. Since their courtship began, he had proven his devotion in ways that made him seem perfect, like the ideal match for a girl of Saffron’s standing. And with our family’s name teetering on the edge of ruin, he was exactly what she needed. What we all needed.

Mother had remained by my side throughout the day, ensuring that I didn’t cause a scene. Her hands were always just a breath away, offering water, passing sweets, shielding me from questions thrown by fellow relatives. It was the most affectionate she’d ever been, a strange contrast to her usual distant demeanor. Perhaps she feared what the slightest slip would reveal that her daughter carried a secret far more scandalous than a dismissal from court.

My pregnancy was the one secret she seemed determined to protect, at least for now.

I managed to slip away and found Saffron standing alone, staring into the mirror, her smile long gone. Her hands were trembling as she adjusted her veil, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can run away together, you know?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the murmurs of guests in the distance.

She looked at me, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "And I know you’re seriously considering that," she said, a soft laugh escaping her. But there was no joy in it, only resignation. “But I can’t, Honey. I can’t abandon my obligations. I don’t have the luxury of running away.”

I nodded, though my heart ached for her. Saffron, my strong-willed sister, had always carried the weight of responsibility on her delicate shoulders, and despite her fear, she would never cast it aside. That was who she was.

She pulled me in close, her breath warm against my cheek. "I’d like to see my little niece or nephew often, though," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So I expect frequent visits."

I couldn’t help but smile, though tears blurred my vision. "You’ll be the best aunt this child will ever know," I said, meaning every word.

We hugged tightly, holding onto this fleeting moment of peace. It was one of the few moments we’d had where neither of us had to pretend. For just a heartbeat, it was the two of us again,sisters, not trapped by titles or duties, but bound by love.

But we both knew it wouldn’t last. We had already lost, each in our own way.

“Dear!” A voice interrupted our embrace, and we both turned to see Duke Bruce Banner standing at the entrance, a charming but calculated smile on his face. His eyes flickered between us, though it was clear his attention was only on Saffron.

"I truly hate to interrupt a bonding moment between sisters," he said with a grin, "but it’s time for the cake."

Saffron gave him a strained smile before taking his arm. But before she let go of my hand, she squeezed it tightly, a silent promise, a reassurance that no matter what, we would always have each other. Even if the world we lived in forced us apart.

As they walked away, the weight of what was coming settled over me like a shroud. Soon, I would be gone, sent away under the guise of preserving what little dignity we had left. And Saffron would stay, locked in a life she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t refuse.

I watched them go, my heart heavy, knowing that we had both become prisoners of our fates. But for now, we could pretend,for one last time,that everything was still as it had been.

The weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. A chapter of my life that I had barely begun to understand was forcibly coming to a close, and it was out of my control. I let out a small breath, placing a hand over my belly. The child inside me had yet to show, but the reality of it, the enormity of it, was already sinking in. Would I be a good mother? Would I ever have a chance to make things right?

The carriage rumbled through the forest, cutting a path toward the next town where we would stop to rest. I watched as tree after tree passed by, but the rhythmic movement of the ride made me nauseous. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the twisting in my stomach, but instead, my mind filled with questions.

What will my new life be like?

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off into sleep until a sharp jolt startled me awake. The carriage had come to a sudden stop. At first, there was nothing but hushed murmurs from outside, voices low and indistinct. But then the gurgling screams began.

My heart seized in my chest.

Were we being robbed?

Terror gripped me, and I curled up tightly in the corner of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer to the carriage door. There was a pause,three distinct knocks,before the door swung open.

Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement. A familiar, infuriating smirk followed.

"Loki."

Confusion flooded through me. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He stepped forward with all the casual arrogance I had come to expect from him taking a seat across from me, his grin widening. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

His words took me aback, my confusion deepening. What did he mean?

Loki sighed, as if I were being slow, and moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against my cheek, a gesture that was oddly tender coming from him. But then his hand traveled lower, resting over my stomach. His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “This," he said, his fingers pressing gently, "and this.”

I recoiled instinctively, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. Panic swirled inside me as I whispered, “How did you know?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something more serious. “What made you think I wouldn’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, searching for something that would make this moment less terrifying, but nothing came. The air between us felt suffocating.

Loki sat back, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms along the back of the seat, completely at ease as though we weren’t discussing the life growing inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?”

“There was nothing to tell,” I said quickly, my voice tight.

He laughed then, a cold, humorless sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, there’s plenty to tell,” he said, his tone darkening. His gaze dropped to my stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Did you think you could keep the child from me?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you could keep yourself away from me?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze but feeling the weight of his words press down on me.

Loki leaned back again, watching me with those sharp, calculating eyes. “Since you’re carrying my child, I won’t punish you as I normally would.” His voice was low, almost casual, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “But make no mistake, Honey,you will be punished.”

The carriage fell eerily quiet. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension was thick, palpable.

Then, slowly, Loki stood, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t escape me, Honey. Not now, not ever.” He grabbed my hair, banging my head against the wall. “Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more forthcoming about your condition.” He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp burning as I feel my skin being pulled. He begins moving me around, as if molding me to his touch. Before I know it, I am on my hands and knees. I try to move away but Loki slaps my face “No, you will behave.” I still, his hand still in my hair. I feel fingers creeping down my dress before lifting my skirts over my bottom. Tears flow from my eyes as I begin to beg him to let me go. “Please Loki do not do this to me.” He ignores my please as he removes my undergarments, I feel the cool air against my naked skin, and I begin to struggle once more. He pushes me into the carriage seat “If you’d like my guards to join, that please continue to move.”

I still once more.

This could not be happening again. As much fear as I had to be meeting aunt Gertrude, the one thing I was glad to avoid was this.

But it seems to be something I am unable to escape.

I feel his fingers ghosting my bottom, before feeling their way between my lips, gently pushing against my pearl. My breathe hitches as I whimper at the feel. He chuckles slowly rubbing it as my arousal begins to stain his hands.

It wasn’t long before I felt him moving around behind, and I felt something soft and firm poking between my legs.

“Please” I whisper with one final plea

He carefully moves to grab my hips, tightening his hands against them. “You will be mine forever.”

He thrusted into my pussy, prying the flesh apart, pushing until he reached the hilt of his pubic region.

Although there was pain, as expected, it did not feel as terribly as the first time. Slowly he began to move, pushing in and out until his cock was soaked with the juices of my cunt. Although it stung, the feeling wasn’t torturous, in fact, it was beginning to feel pleasurable.

Guilt began to eat away at me as his thrusts became more forceful, and I slowly begin reach a peak. My whimpers becoming moans, as he hovers over me to pinch my nipples.

 I don’t realize what’s happened, until I feel vibrations in my body and see stars in my eyes.

“Good Girl.” Loki whispers into my ear as \ he continues to thrust until I feel his body stiffen with his own release. He collapses on top of me, feeling my exposed skin while still inside of me.

I was still wrapping my head about what had just gone on when Loki moved to open the carriage door, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at me. His expression was unsettling, a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation.

"I feel like a game of tag," he said casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

My mind was still spinning, my body worn out, trying desperately to gather my bearings after everything that had just happened. The situation felt surreal, like some twisted nightmare.

"I’ll give you a five-minute head start." His words made my stomach drop as the pieces slowly started coming together in my mind. "If you make it to your mother’s home before I catch you, I will leave you alone forever."

I sat up, quickly fixing my dress, my heart pounding in my chest. Loki was playing a game, one I knew I couldn’t afford to lose. Staying in this carriage with him would lead to nowhere good, but the alternative was no less terrifying.

"However," he continued, pausing just enough to let the weight of his words sink in, "if I catch you first, you’ll have to say yes to my proposal." He smiled wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous excitement. "And we’ll continue to play tag until you do reach your home."

Before I could respond, Loki stepped out of the carriage and, with alarming ease, pulled me out and lifted me onto the ground. His grip was firm but not painful, yet it only heightened the sense of helplessness coiling inside me.

When I looked behind him, I found the coachmen dead on the ground, laying in what I assumed to be blood. I was too scared to speak, so I remained quiet.

"Your five minutes starts now." His grin widened as he glanced at an invisible clock. "Four minutes and fifty-four seconds."

I didn’t waste another second. I took off running, my legs stiff and unsteady beneath me, my body still heavy with the shock of what had just occurred. My heart hammered in my chest, each step labored and uncoordinated as I struggled to push forward. All with his essence dripping down my legs.

This can’t be happening, I thought to myself, as tears welled up in my eyes. This can’t be real.

But it was.

The trees blurred as I stumbled through the forest, branches catching at my dress, my shoes sinking into the uneven earth beneath me. Tears streamed down my face as I tripped and fell hard into the dirt, my hands scraping against the ground as I hit the earth with a dull thud.

I could hear Loki’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me with his smile, his challenge. The reality of what he wanted, the cruel game he was playing, pressed down on me, suffocating my thoughts.

I lay there for a moment, my chest heaving, dirt smeared across my hands and face. I felt the ground beneath me, solid and cold, but all I could think was:

what am I supposed to do now?

[moss-flesh]

cora hale is such a nothing character poor girl

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

🪶

[cheralith]

wish you well — 「 celebrity!gojo x manager!reader (drabble & headcanons 」

synopsis ; after being one of the nation's most well-loved celebrity's manager for nine years, it's time to call it quits. said celebrity, however, doesn't take it too well.

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns for reader used, mild angst, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; celebrity!au, a-list actor!gojo satoru, manager!reader, no powers au

notes ; plot inspired by "what's wrong with secretary kim" after my nth rewatch haha

now playing ; i wish you love - nancy wilson

Everyone goes to lean forward in their seats, gripping the edge of it as the music that’s singing from the movie theatre’s speakers suddenly stops, letting the sound effects of rain pebble through instead. The screen displays a running, drenched man in the rain of a lonesome road in the middle of the countryside, his crystal blue eyes hazy with a brim of tears balancing in them as he huffs and puffs, the exhaustion within him visible. The camera cuts to a woman seated safely under a bus stop as the rain pours down with the same view of a descending countryside town still blurred in the distance. She grips the handle of her suitcase as her head goes to gaze solemnly at her shoes. 

A bus goes to a screeching halt, only the tender wheel of it visible as the woman’s gaze is still stuck on the floor before she looks up to see the bus doors opening before her. The running man appears before the screen, desperation clear on his face before the camera slowly turns towards the bus stop the formerly-sitting woman is now standing under. 

“Loretta! Don’t you dare get on that bus!”  the man yells out, earning the woman’s attention.

The woman widens her pale green eyes at the sight of him breaking out into a sprint. She swallows a nervous gulp, too frozen to move from her spot until the man enters under the shelter of the bus stop. His chest engraved with the lining of visible muscles are evident through his pale blue button-down that’s slicked with water and the sight earns a couple of lip bites from women in the theatre. 

The woman stammers, “Y-you know I need to do this…”

“No you don’t,” the man mutters, the camera panning to show his eyes holding desperation and a slight flicker of anger. “Your father wants you to do this, but I know you. I know you don’t want to.”

“But it’s my duty, Vincent—”

“Don’t give me that ‘duty’ shit!” The man shakes his head, letting droplets of water fling all over. “Loretta, please… just stay here with me,” he pleads, holding her face in his hands and forcing the woman to look up at him as his thumbs wipe away her tears that grab onto mascara. “We can stay here… get a house together… build a family… die old together like you said we would. You’re not gonna break your promise, are you?”

“Vincent, that was when we were six!” the woman exclaims sadly, “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging onto that.”

“I’m not hanging onto that promise,” he whispers, pulling her face closer to his. 

The instrumental of a music track begins to play softly in the background, obvious tension rising to the surface in the theatre as the scene continues. A couple of hands shovel into large popcorn buckets and without thinking, shove the popcorn into their salivating mouths. Nails dig into the palms of hands as some chew on them out of anticipation. Eyes wide and unblinking, they give their full attention to the screen.

“Say the line…” whispers one person.

The man tenderly kisses her in a short, but passionate kiss, letting her release from him with a dreamy sigh. 

“I’m holding on to you,” he murmurs ever so softly. 

Compared to the quietness of the man on the screen, the theatre goes absolutely crazy. Shouts and cheers ring through the air as numerous rounds of applause go to harmonize with them. 

The scene in the movie finalizes with Loretta finally swallowing her pride and nodding to Vincent’s agreement, sealing the movie with a kiss that lasts until the screen slowly fades to black. 

“Annnd… that’s a wrap,” the director of the movie jokes as he stands up from his seat. He earns a few laughs from the cast and the crew of the movie. The theatre begins to light up once more and gives a clear view of everyone, including the section that holds the main cast up near the back. “I’d like to give one last thank you to Satoru Gojo and Yuki Tsukumo one last time for giving an amazing performance and dedicating their time for the past year and a half. Thank you both ever so dearly.”

Satoru Gojo, also known as Vincent, goes to stand up with his co-star, also known as Loretta, and they give a synchronized bow to the people in the theatre as the premier for his latest movie finally draws the curtains from behind the audience. “Thank you for directing another outstanding movie. I truly do look forward to working with you again in the future,” he gives another dazzling smile as he and Yuki elegantly walk down the stairs together. They say their final goodbyes as co-stars and depart to opposite sides of the theatre where they’re greeted with their teams. 

You go to hand him his coat you’ve been hanging on to for the past ninety minutes, the scent of cologne finally fading after a suffocating hour and a half. Glancing at the director who heartily laughs with some of the editors of the movie, you let out a light chuckle. 

“Hm? What’s so funny?” Satoru inquires as he shoves on his coat. 

“You’re such a liar,” you say, shrugging as you and him exit the movie’s premiere together, some of the actor’s team following shortly after, conversing with another about how spectacular the movie was. “You’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than work with that guy again.”

Without looking at you, Satoru grins ahead. “You know me so well.”

Ijichi, the chauffeur, is waiting patiently outside the venue despite the winter cold. When he sights the many delighted smiles and laughter, he asks, “I take it the premiere went well?” 

“Very,” you nod, getting into the car to enjoy its warmth.

The car ride is nothing out of the usual, just quiet jazz playing in the background and the city lights glimmer from above. 

“Oh, what’s the agenda for tomorrow by the way?” Satoru asks, his gaze turning from the window to you, who still is focused on the tablet that checks off today’s draining tasks for the celebrity. 

Photoshoot for Ray Ban… done. Look over next month’s plans for Season Two of Jujutsu Kaisen… done. Suit fitting for movie premiere… done. Movie premiere… done!

“(Y/N)~” Satoru calls again but dragging the last syllable of your name and snapping his fingers in front of you to capture your attention. He chuckles when you jolt in your seat. 

“Sorry,” you mutter before swiping to tomorrow’s agenda. “Alright, nothing too big. You just gotta sign that contract that you’ll be the spokesperson for Chaumet, then right after, you have an Elle interview regarding the movie. Then, you’ll have a final dinner with the entire cast and that’s it for the week.”

Satoru nods in approval and obviously ready to take on tomorrow’s attacks. Only three things? He can handle that with ease. If anything, it’s been less of a load to bring on from the recent events that had been happening as of lately. His feet could really use a break from walking over so many red carpets. 

The road begins to lead down a familiar path as you realize you pass the local family diner, your apartment’s entrance shortly coming to view. Ijichi slows to a stop and unlocks the door, letting you out. Before Satoru can say goodbye to his beloved manager, however, you stop the window from rolling up and lean down into the car again. 

“Oh, I forgot to say this earlier, but,” you pause, making sure his attention is all on you for this short, but possibly life-alternating moment. “You’re also meeting your new manager tomorrow, too. She’s really sweet and—”

Time freezes for a moment.

“Wait a minute,” Satoru furrows his brows and faces his body completely towards you, his countenance pulling the curtains to reveal a confused, serious expression that rarely appears on his face. “New manager…? What do you mean?”

The question comes out more as a demand. Breath hitching for a short moment, you release it and smile gently with the corners not letting your eyes curve. You had been anticipating this moment for the longest time now—around half a year of decision making and weighing the pros and cons, then three months deciding when the right time to break the news would be. But at this time, you’ve ran out of time and you’ve ultimately decided to push it towards the day before the deadline, something you almost never do. A little solemnly, you sigh out softly and finally declare the groundbreaking news to the A-list celebrity, your head still high.

“I’ll be quitting as your manager, soon.”

Actor!Gojo, who doesn't get a good night sleep after that abrupt statement, in which you barely gave him time to try and ask why on earth you're giving up the job that many people would kill for, only leaving him with a small wave and a subtle "goodnight." Your voice replayed in his head the entire night, the sentence resembling nails on a chalkboard the more he repeated it to himself—"I'll be quitting as your manager, soon."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks you have the nerve to put on a smile and greet him good morning the following sunrise as if nothing happened, as if you weren't breaking a bond of nearly nine years with him. Your words for today’s plans go in and out of his ears as Satoru wearily examines your appearance and movements in the kitchen that he almost never uses as he rounds up his thoughts that poisoned his head ever since you said that all-too-bold statement last night that shifted his entire world in the matter of seconds.

Actor!Gojo, who cuts you off mid-sentence, asking you sharply why you're quitting as his manager out of the blue, his usually-playful baby blue hues piercing right into you. He notices your smile faltering a bit, but never completely dissipating, though it comes severely close to doing so when you tell him why.

Actor!Gojo, who listens much too intently for his liking when he hears you out, a feat he rarely does. "The past nine years have been wonderful, don't get me wrong," you murmur as you slather on a sugary marmalade on his toast. "But I don't think I'm really getting much out of life just being someone's manager."

Actor!Gojo, who pretends as if those last two words don't sting his chest. Someone's manager... as if he's not one of the most worshipped and celebrated A-list actors in the industry right now. But he supposes that's why he stuck by you, since you understood that he, too, was just a regular human being at the end of the day like the rest of humanity, even with his godlike good looks.

Actor!Gojo, whose mouth runs dry when you continue. "I don't want to be the side character to someone's story. I deserve to live fully too." you finish, pushing Gojo's plate of breakfast towards him before snacking on the leftovers. You stare at him, awaiting his response. You understand that despite you thinking over such a big decision for a few months, that it was better to rip off the bandaid and avoid any further complications by quitting unexpectedly, even though you knew Gojo better than anyone.

Actor!Gojo, who attempts to understand where you're coming from. Yes, he can get that maybe this life wasn't the most exciting, but then again, what other jobs out there are? At least with this one, you're guaranteed good—dare he say, great—pay and stability, along with experiencing second-hand what it's like to see all the glitz and glamour most of the population fiend for. It's thanks to him that you've been draped in designer clothes for premiers, that you've tried Michelin delicacies, that you've travelled the world. So... why ditch all of that for a more simple life? Aren't you content?

Actor!Gojo, whose mind flashes back to the moment where you stared a little too longingly at a lovesick couple in the window of a coffee shop, or when your eyes lingered on the engagement rings in a shop window that one day he had to get a suit tailored. He suddenly remembers the one dress rehearsal where he witnessed an extra asking for your number before you declined politely. He had asked you jokingly that you were blind to reject such a handsome guy (second to him, of course), only for you to reply you smiled gently at him and said you had no time to date.

Actor!Gojo, who suddenly blurts out without any restraint, and with a little more edge than expected, "What? D'you want to get married or something?"

Actor!Gojo, who regrets the sentence as soon as it escapes his lips. He swallows thickly and attempts to organize the right words for a proper apology. You stare blankly at him for a moment, and before Gojo can say anything, you nod. "Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks his coffee tastes much bitter than usual, silently nods after a moment of awkward silence. You open your mouth first to try and cut it through, but he beats you to it. "I'm sure I could re-arrange some stuff in the schedule so you can get out there and meet someone. There's no need to quit." He ignores the weird pang in his chest the moment he says "someone."

Actor!Gojo, who frowns when you shake your head. You explain it would still be hard, as he'd remain your first priority despite it all. You mention that you've already submitted your resignation letter to his agency three weeks ago and that it's been processed, that it'll be your last two weeks as you being his manager and that you'll be saying goodbye to what had been nearly a decade of companionship with the celebrity.

Actor!Gojo, who flinches as the doorbell rings and watches miserably as you fetch the person at the door. She's a young girl, around the age when you first started as his manager, with choppy bangs and long blue hair, along with a bright and ready smile. You introduce her as his to-be manager, but Gojo can't shake off the thought of being greeted by her face in the morning and seeing her face as the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep instead of yours.

Actor!Gojo, who thinks this week is going much too fast for his liking. Despite essentially begging for the director of his latest TV show to give him some extra scenes to shoot, he was excused early with the rest of the crew after all the required scenes were shot nicely. Somehow, the brand deal commercial and meeting flew by much faster than usual, too. But despite it all, Gojo couldn't help his eyes constantly flickering to your figure whenever you were in his field of vision, even receiving multiple warnings from the director from the commercial to stop getting distracted.

Actor!Gojo, who finds his gaze lingering on a rather old picture of you and him, along with some blurry figures in the background. Nine years younger, both of you, with outdated fashion and makeup. He remembers you were just shy of being his manager for four months, when he was still trying to break out of the shell of being a nepotism baby and attempting to create a name for himself. Gojo prided himself on his independence, but he'd be fooling himself if he didn't give a hefty amount of credit of his success to you. After all, you were the one that was in charge of his many brand deals and were the one that landed him roles that granted him film awards.

Actor!Gojo, who can't find the right words to say during the drives home, hating how the air is always thick whenever you were alone with him. He doesn't think he can get used to not pulling up to your apartment when the night comes to an end before going to his, despite your affirmations that him and Miwa would get along great. He murmurs a good night to you, not facing you despite watching your reflection intently in the window, but before you wish him a good evening, you say something that forces him to face you.

"I have... a dinner reservation with someone at 6:30 p.m., so I'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Gojo blinks. "Is that implying you have a date?"

"I..." you swallow anticipatingly. "I suppose you could say that."

Actor!Gojo, who feels the familiar pang of his chest as the thought of someone else sharing a dinner with you, something you've been doing with him since the very beginning of his career. He can't even imagine a person, only some sort of foggy figure sitting across from you, sharing a shabby meal. He can tell you're waiting a response from him before you head into your apartment, and he wryly says, "That's great... Hope you have a good time or whatever..." before commanding the driver to drive off, not even waiting for another word from you.

Actor!Gojo, who drums his fingers with great boredom against the door's handle, fighting off the nuisance that was the city's insane traffic this evening. When he gazes out the window to find some other distraction other than his phone, however, he instantly finds himself drawn to a familiar figure being seated at the window a few stories up in the restaurant his car was stuck in front of. You're up there, dressed regally for another, giggling with them at something they said (something stupid, Gojo thinks to himself). Teeth grit against themselves when they feed you a small portion of their food with their fork, the indirect kiss making his eyes narrow.

Actor!Gojo, whose spontaneous anger suddenly dispels when he repeats your words from earlier that week.

"What? D'you want to get married or something?"

"Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Gojo suddenly pauses and goes still for a while, thinking over something incredulous. He blinks repeatedly, before a grin etches on his face as his plan settles into his consciousness. Gojo may not give you anything you desire if you're just his mere manager...

... but if he were your husband, then that meant your dream would be fulfilled and you could stay at his side for what was essentially the rest of his life and give you anything you wanted. He'd never have to fret about you leaving his life ever again.

Satoru Gojo, you absolute Einstein... he compliments himself proudly in his mind. Letting out a confident huff as the car begins to drive on, he tells the driver to head on over to the nearest jewelry store before heading home.

a/n: hi sorry it's been a while! i was finishing up a semester at uni, so forgive my absence with this little weird hybrid ficlet of mine featuring the one and only

i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my writing! likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[ireneispunk]

Teach Me

Aemond Targaryen x female reader smut (Rhaenyra & Harwin Laenor Velaryon's daughter)

After your family gathers in King's Landing for Maelor's name day celebrations, tensions build between in more ways than expected. A lesson in High Valryian from your uncle Aemond causes a mutual infatuation to bubble over.

w.c: 9,398 (i know)

c.w: SMUT 18+ , targcest (uncle & niece), NO use of Y/N, oral (m & f receiving), afab reader, foreplay, unprotected p in v sex, the slowest of slowburns to ever exist, mild aemond angst, but also kinda soft aemond(?), fluff to finish ofc, small implied age gap, reader is briefly mentioned to have Srong features, pet names (in high valyrian), use of High Valyrian all translations in text as it is spoken (E.G "Rytsa Skorkydoso glaesā?" (Hi how are you?)) (i didn't translate these everytime bc i used them a lot so: mandianna = niece (child of your older sister), iāpa = uncle), pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so this came from a post i did the other day, and @sinistersnakey9419 gave me the idea for this fic and it had me giggling and kicking my feet fr. also, this took me like a week to write because i kept adding more plot teehee.

dividers: @saradika ♡

It was a week into your families stay at King’s Landing. The Red Keep was a familiar place, but it was no Dragonstone. Your Grandsire, King Viserys, had made it his wish of his for his family to be together to celebrate Maelor’s name day which was to be a multiple day affair. And he meant all of his family, regardless of the fabricated tensions that divided you. As Rhaenyra’s second eldest and only surviving daughter, you felt an unspoken pressure to help maintain the peace between the brothers of the family. One side couldn’t help but torment whilst the other was quick to defend his family by any means. You missed being back on Dragonstone, but this was an exciting place to be. Days were filled with activities befitting of a young lady, and you enjoyed spending time with your Aunt Helaena – both of you appreciated a sisterly figure from within each other. There was one presence you couldn’t quite understand. Aemond. Your uncle had watched you closely since you first arrived, it had been a time since you had both seen each other. He had grown into a very tall and incredibly handsome man; he was more pleasing to the eye than he should be. His large frame and equanimous demeanour loomed over you, even from the other side of a room. His gaze stuck upon you like a hound tracking game. You couldn’t help but assume, like most other members of his side of the family, he held nothing but judgemental distain for you and your brown-haired brothers.

The mornings were always the same, Viserys had wished for you all to break your fast together daily. That had started to dwindle until the King had heard of it and demanded you eat together regardless of his presence. It was going about as well as it had the past week, Aegon’s head in a cup, Alicent on edge at every second.

“The maesters have been helping us with our Valyrian.” Spouted Lucerys, he was sweet, too sweet and sensed a smog of tension over the room. Rhaenyra smiled, appreciating your brother’s attempt.

“Let us hear it then.” Daemon announced leaning back in his seat.

“Rēbagon se gerpa kostilus.” (Pass the fruit please). Lucerys seemed impressed with his statement, Daemon seems confused for a moment before leaning forward and sliding the dish of grapes over towards Luke. A short scoff was heard from across the table, Aemond sat casually, smirk laden on his lips.

“Something the matter, Uncle?” Jacaerys spoke through slight gritted teeth. Aemond raised a hand in a defensive motion, smile still playing at his lips.

“What my brother wants to say,” Aegon peeled his face up from the tablecloth and took a swig of whatever was in his cup at this hour, “Is that your ‘High Valyrian’ sounded more like Old Ghiscari.” Lucerys smile faded as he looked to your mother for reassurance. You sighed, looking down at you half-finished plate as yet another verbal disagreement erupted between the men in your life. You rose to your feet with more haste than you anticipated causing your chair to wobble and crash onto the stone floor behind you. The room fell silent, and you felt everyone’s eyes burning into your skin.

Your gaze remained vacant, lingering on the table, “May I please be excused.” You were embarrassed: of your outburst, your family’s inability to get along, your uncles’ comments. Mostly due to the fact they were right, Lucerys’ nor Jacaerys High Valyrian was perfect, and it just added to the rumours that spread about your family. Your mother had barely spoke an ‘of course’ before you took your leave, nails digging crescents into your palms.

Leaves rustled beneath your feet as you paced the grass of the Godswood, it was always a small sanctuary of peace for it’s quiet and empty nature. You closed your eyes and let the sun beam down on your face, if you imagined hard enough you could feel the cold breeze from your balcony at Dragonstone. A harsh snapping of a twig pulled you from your thoughts, your head shooting up towards the direction of the disturbance. Aemond stood a few paces away from you, palm raised in a surrendering motion. You released a breath you had been holding onto, bringing your hands together to fiddle with the clasp of your bracelet. “I did not mean to startle you, Mandianna,” He took a stride closer towards you, hands clasped behind his back. “You caused quite a scene. For a princess.” Your eyes stayed fixated on the ground beneath the two of you. This was the first time you had ever been alone with Aemond, and he was being agreeable? It was hard to deny how beautiful he was, even just from the stolen glances towards him. You knew about sex, parts of what it entailed. From a few detailed paintings to the small snippets you overheard from the younger handmaidens. You hadn’t spent an awful lot of time thinking about it apart from when conversations of finding you a match came around. That was until this week, something about being around Aemond meant fighting away thoughts of him a regular occurrence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you picked up your chin to meet Aemond’s stare. It was softer, and more inquisitive than his usual piercing gaze. Your stomach dropped as thoughts of him bending you over and fucking you right here in the Godswood clouded your mind, how his hands would feel over your body, his tongue across your neck and between your thighs, how it would feel him sliding – “Keli jiōraton aōha ēngos byka genes?” (Cat got your tongue little mouse?). You felt heat rising towards cheeks and across your chest as you tried to mask your raised heart rate. You were pretty sure Aemond couldn’t read your thoughts, but the small smile that played at his lips made you feel otherwise. Something about your close proximity, the way you could make out each detail of his face, and his intoxicating smell had muzzled you. Lips parted to respond but nothing came out. You felt helpless in the best way possible. “A Velaryon princess who can’t hold a High Valyrian conversation, you disappoint me Mandianna.” Aemond turned on his heel, briskly walking towards the wood’s exit.

Maybe it was the need to please, the burning between your thighs, or the fact he was no longer facing you, but the words escaped your lips before you could even process what you had said, “Teach me.” The small wave of confidence dwindled when he turned his head back to face you.

“Teach you?”

“Teach me what you think I should know, Iāpa.” You didn’t know how he would respond, nor did you know how you wished for him to respond. Aemond raised a brow and smiled to himself, your small use of High Valyrian and how your statement could be interpreted in many different made him intrigued to see where this would lead.

“Tomorrow evening, after supper. Meet me in the library’s reading room.” Without needing a response, he once again made his way out of the wood, leaving you flustered and equally excited, yet dread filled.

As supper slowly began to drew to a close, your excitement manifested in a small bobbing of your leg. Actual conversation rang out between small groups on the table, Lucerys and Helaena had included you in there’s but all you could focus on was keeping your thoughts clear. Everything about Aemond drew you further in his lips softly against his cup, the way his index and middle finger tapped along to the quiet music that had been played, but most of all the way he would catch you watching with a satisfied smile. You partially walked back to your chambers, before feigning forgetting a ring behind at the table, and insisting to your mother and Daemon that it couldn’t wait until morning. Part of you wondered if you shouldn’t have lied, there was a simple explanation: getting lessons in High Valyrian from your uncle Aemond. Except this would not go over well with your immediate family. For you could hold a conversation in High Valyrian, it was Aemond you couldn’t speak to specifically. You were actually quite proficient in High Valyrian, not as much as you’d hoped to be but a whole lot better than your brothers. Whether it was common tongue or Valyrian Aemond rendered you speechless, and now you were willingly walking into a situation where he had complete control. You knew for certain how much you longed for him, but other than glances you couldn’t figure out what he truly felt. Part of you wanted to be under him at every moment possible but if he didn’t feel the same, if his glances were all a trick, you’d be ruined.

After stepping through the library, you took one final breath before opening the heavy oak door to the reading room. It pushed open with a small creak to reveal Aemond sat at the desk, tattered book in hand. “I thought you might’ve gotten cold feet,” he closed the book and softly placed it on the table, “Come take a seat.” He arose, pulling the wooden chair beside him out from the table, allowing you to sit down. You nodded your head slightly before taking a seat, smoothing out any creases in your dress. Taking a moment to examine the reading room in the dark, you noticed the two brass cups and a wine jug, along with numerous High Valyrian scriptures and books with plain parchment and a fresh quill. Aemond himself was wearing his usual attire, except his black coat had been unbuckled a few straps, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed, eyeing the wine. Everything seemed real of a sudden. You weren’t used to drinking wine, especially alone at night. Sensing your nervousness, Aemond picked up a cup and placed it in front of you, “Just because it is my drink of choice for the evening,” he poured a small amount into his own cup, “Doesn’t mean I expect you to partake, Mandianna.” You paused for a moment before shaking your head ‘no’ and sliding your cup away. “Very well, read this out for me, I want to hear what you can do already.” He relished in how you squirmed when he was close to you. You looked down at the papers in front of you, ‘Aegon the Conqueror, The High Valyrian Scriptures’. You knew all about Aegon the Dragon, but the words escaped you as Aemond stood behind you, left hand atop your chair, right hand holding up his weight on the table. You felt a few strands of his long hair tickle your shoulder, the closeness of him made you feel as if you could burst. “Go on then, read it.” He said, almost a whisper. His lips were so close yet still too far, you could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke but not the softness of his lips on your skin. This is the type of torture that scribes should mention.

“Aegon I Targaryen iksin se ēlī āeksio hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-“ (Aegon I Targaryen was the first Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and-). You paused as Aemond moved from behind you to stand beside the table.

“I didn’t say stop.” His firm tone excited you more than you wanted it to.

“se dārys va se Dēmalion Āegenko.” (and king on the Iron Throne). You continued, looking up to Aemond for approval. He nodded before gathering up the papers from in front of you and holding them in his hands. Puzzled, you turned to face him “But-“

“Too easy, you know how the story goes, tell it to me in High Valyrian.” Aemond looked pleased with himself as he sat back into his own chair that now faced yours.

You looked down at the floor for a moment, before continuing “Ziry kithsair bȳre hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-ziry se-“ (He conquered six of the seven kingdoms and-he a-nd-). Yet again, your words escaped your lips as Aemond’s gaze wandered over your body, free to visually devour your form now you were not in the company of others.

He inhaled sharply and rose to his feet, “Valyrio Eglie iksis iā kostōba udrir, se ēdruta sagon spoken hae mēre.  Aōha udra issi nākostōbā, ao ȳdragon tolī rāpa. Eman daor drīve geptot naejot dohaeragon ao byka genes.” (High Valyrian is a powerful language and must be spoken as one. Your words are weak, you speak too softly. I cannot help you little mouse.) His words came at you fast and rather harshly, you hated the effect he had on you, and you hated how he judged you for it. You searched his face for something more, surely all of this was not over, the yearning looks, the candlelight, the wine, did it not mean something more? As your mind raced you looked towards the floor and wished it would envelop you. Aemond sighed, and placed the scriptures that you had read from under your chin and used them to lift you face up towards his. Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him standing over you. “You don’t understand do you Mandianna,” He chuckled softly, tilting you head to his will. “Nyke would qogralbar ao ēva ao could gaomagon daorun yn ilagon isse ñuha baer mirre tubis byka genes.” (I would fuck you until you could do nothing but lay in my bed all day little mouse.) He dropped the scriptures onto the table, taking his leave with such haste that you felt he air pass by through your hair. Once his footsteps dissipated you felt as your jaw went slack. The wetness grew between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together, attempting to relieve some of the mounding pressure.

Your heart thudded in your chest like a drum, you swiftly shut the door to your chambers and tried to steady your shaky breathing. After shedding yourself of your dress you made your way to the vanity and undid your hairstyle of the day. As your fingers worked between your hair you imagined Aemond’s large hands making their way through it, your fingers delicately glided across the crook of your neck before resting upon the warmth of your chest. If Aemond wanted to play games then you would gladly oblige, except this time you knew he wanted to play.

Your reading was interrupted by the ever-persistent King’s Landing ladies in waiting, you’d usually grumble except it was the first day of Maelor’s name day celebrations and you were taught the importance of good first impressions. Today would be important as Lords and Ladies of every great house would be there and you were yet to find a betrothed who was approved by the heir to the iron throne, your brothers, and Daemon, who once sent a young lord away teary eyed with embarrassment. You smiled to yourself as the ladies working on you bickered between what way to style your hair for the occasion. “What about something mostly up, with a few small braids, and the red gem hairpins? I think that’ll match the dress I picked out for tonight.” They glanced between each other, smiled, and got to work on your dark hair. Part of you was filled with excitement, it had been a while since you had an excuse to dress up, and it was even more thrilling at the thought of catching Aemond’s attention over all the other Ladies present. As the late afternoon rolled around you were finally considered presentable to the guests in the great hall. You eyed your reflection, your hair lifted to expose your neck and clavicle, dark fabric fitted to your shape with delicate blood red beading sewn into the neckline and down the sleeves finished with your gold jewellery pieces. Just as the ladies were about to leave you had an idea, “Wait! Do you have any of the rose perfume oil?” You spoke with a smile. A few knowing glances were shared between the two eldest ladies as a younger one brought over the small crystal bottle before dabbing a small amount on each wrist and on either side of your neck.

The rest of your family waited beside the towering doors of the great hall, “Finally, I thought we’d all starve.” Joffrey spouted with a huff earning a short laugh from Lucerys, a half shove from Jacaerys and a raised brow from Daemon. Your mother waved them off and placed her hands either side of your upper arms, “What a beautiful young woman you have become, my sweet child.” Rhaenyra looked upon you with great admiration as always. You smiled and squeezed her hand as you all stood together as the doors were slowly pulled open. You could feel your heart beating in your ears as the chittering in the room slowly dissipated and all heads turned to face you all. You bore a brave face following after your parent’s movements down the steps and towards the King’s table. After greeting the king, you were all seated, the family had grown rather exponentially since Rhaenyra’s wedding to your father Laenor which you had heard many stories about. You sat towards the outer curve to one side of the table, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Aemond, already watching you. So not to give him the pleasure of your gaze, you made conversations with your family next to you.

A short clearing of a throat pulled you from your conversation with Jacaerys, “I am Jorick Lannister, your graces,” He bowed his head towards you, “I was wondering if I may have the honour to ask the Princess to a dance?” He flashed his best smile at you.

You looked expectantly to your mother and Daemon, “If you wish to, then go dance.” Rhaenyra grinned, she gently touched her own elbow against Daemon’s, and he muttered something about there ‘being worse choices in the room’. You stood up from your seat, perhaps a bit too eagerly and walked around to the side of the table where the Lannister stood. He extended his hand, palm up towards you and lead you down the few steps to the crowd of dancers. You stood a pace apart and looked at the man in front of you, he was certainly handsome, dark blonde hair that waved towards the nape of his neck, gentle grey eyes. As you looked into them something caught your eye behind them. Aemond was alert, not sat in his usual laid-back posture with his cup resting in his hand on the arm of his chair. He was sat forward, stiff as a statue and boring daggers into the back of your dance partner. You swallowed as you saw the grip he had around his cup; it was solid metal but from the look on his face alone it could crumble. The music swelled as Jorick took your hand in his and placed his other upon your waist.

As you both moved across the floor, he leaned in to speak to you “How are you enjoying the capital princess.” Jorick spoke above the music.

“There’s a certain beauty to it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Dragonstone.” You spoke with truth.

Jorick chuckled, “Ah yes, it is the perfect home for a dragon. I do believe you would grow to like Catserly Rock your grace. It’s no island but the coastline is just as harsh, I miss the sound of it when I try to sleep somewhere new.”

You heartily laughed at his statement as he twirled you in a circle. “I have said that ever since we got here! But no one else seems to understand it.” While he laughed and agreed in return.

Meanwhile at the King’s table, Aemond’s jealousy bubbled harshly. Already did he have a hard time resisting taking you into his arms and treating you as you deserved, but watching another man, a Lannister at that, hold you the way he wanted to, enraged him. He counted the guards in the room to simmer his anger, but then imagined fighting them off as he cut down every person between you and him and taking you into an embrace. He was completely and utterly enamoured with you, ever since he watched you climb off of your dragon from a tower of the Red Keep. Gone had the child he knew as a babe himself and was now replaced with a woman who plagued his thoughts. Your darker hair that framed your face, eyes that crinkled when you laughed and held so much emotion, the way you smile brought him an unmanageable amount of joy. He couldn’t hate you, no matter if he tried. At this moment, he wished for it to be simple. That he wasn’t your mother’s brother, that he was just a Lord of some other house, dancing with you and holding you close. A world in which he could have you, touch you, without bearing the reprehensible disappointment of his mother or the feeling of his heart being crushed right in front of him. He had once and for all had enough after the 6th eager meek had hovered around you after each song had finished to ask for your hand. Aemond rose to his feet and made his way to you on the floor with large strides dipping in between the guests. Queen Alicent watched him with worry, he wasn’t known to dance or partake in many festivities like these.

You parted ways with your last dance partner and smiled as you were approached by yet another Lord, “My princess, I am Erich Baratheon and I would love the honour of-“ He started before being cut off by the sudden appearance of Aemond: he’d brushed past the suitor on his was to you, not harsh in any sense but it definitely took you both off guard.

The broad Baratheon was dwarfed by not only the Targaryen’s height, but his mere presence also. “Perhaps is it my turn for a dance, Mandianna.” The request seemed so lewd and intimate coming from him, despite it being what would otherwise be an innocent dance between family.

“I was just asking the Princess for a dance. Perhaps you may dance with her after?” The Baratheon mustered his bravest voice, a touch deeper than it had been a moment ago. Aemond’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head round and down with a rather dramatic tilt to amplify the inches between the pair. From this angle you could fully admire his jawline and neck. You imagined kissing across his sharp jawline, travelling down to his throat. At this moment you were so overcome with lust you imagine grazing your teeth against it and biting gently just to release some tension. After a very short stare off on the Baratheon’s end, “Perhaps not, uh- goodnight, Princess.” He had turned to walk away before even finishing his sentence, leaving you and Aemond face to face on the floor.

“That wasn’t very proper of you, uncle.” You spoke above a whisper, struggling to hold back a small laugh.

“Luckily it’s not so expected of me.” His face bore a small smile. An actual smile instead of a sly all-knowing smirk.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer either.”

“Well, someone had to put a stop to the herd of sheep begging to stomp on your feet all evening.” You couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement. Some of the Lords had been nice, decent dancers, with something to say. Others spent their time ogling your exposed skin or asking about your inheritance. You could not deny as conversations lulled between some of them, you imagined you were in the arms of Aemond instead. As the music began to swell, he offered you his hand which you gladly accepted whilst his other hand tentatively made its way to your upper waist. As he led the dance, he never looked away from you, it felt as if you were slowly melting into him. Able to ignore the few judgemental looks and quiet whispers from the people around you and just focussing on the man in front of you.

Back at the King’s table, your interaction had not gone unnoticed. Alicent’s worry had faded, she knew you had always been a sweet girl. She looked over to Rhaenyra who had already been watching her to gage a reaction and the two exchanged a small smile each. “Mother, are sister and Uncle Aemond going to get married?” Joffrey asked in matter-of-fact way, causing Rhaenyra to cough on the wine that she had sipped whilst Daemon chuckled and ruffled his dark curls.

You’d made a mental note to thank the gods for the current song choice, a slower one. Your hands flush together as the two of you rotated and eyes never leaving each other’s. As the end of the song drew close Aemond’s body moved behind you, left hand upon your waist and right taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. The latter part was not a usual for this particular dance. Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the strength of his torso behind you. “You know uncle, I have been wanting more lessons in High Valyrian, I think a few more and we could really make some progress.” It wasn’t 100% a lie, Aemond definitely could teach you some High Valyrian, but it was mostly an excuse to be in private with him again.

“Really? Because you did so well last time?” You could practically feel the smirk on his face from behind you. “I know you can ask a lot nicer than that Mandianna.” You shuddered softly at the sensation of his voice so quiet, whispering into your ear. The music pace picked up as you glided across the floor, heart beating within your ears. As the instruments came to a halt, you felt a sense of weightlessness as Aemond dipped you and held you there, so low to the ground you felt the ends of your hair touch against it. You eyed him, brows raised and chest rising and falling, feeling fully in his hands.

“Kostilus, Aemond.” (Please, Aemond) The words left your lips in a soft way that travelled straight down his spine. You could not identify the emotion that swept his face as he swiftly brought you to your feet and ripped his hands from yours. His eyes shut briefly, his hands flexing into tight fist, you were not sure what had happened. As you reached out for his hand he stepped back and kept his eyes to the ground before making his way to the exit of the great hall. You called out to him softly, but he soon disappeared in between the crowds.

Confused and a little hurt, you made your way back to your seat and looked at the remainder of your meal that had surely gone cold. You felt your mother’s hand rest upon yours, and you looked to her and smiled weakly. “Where did your uncle go sweet girl?” She spoke softly and quietly, as to avoid bringing your brothers into it.

“He mentioned that he had to go for something.” Your lie wouldn’t have fooled a stranger, let alone your own mother, but she did not pry. She gave your hand a small squeeze and gave you the mother’s look of ‘I’m here if you need me’.

Aemond briskly made his way down the corridors of the Red Keep. His hands met the roughened wooden doors to a balcony as he pushed them open and felt the chill of the night air cover him. It was not enough as he felt is blood burn hot, coursing through his veins and the sight of you in his arms. Your hair cascading down past you, exposing your neck, the way your breasts filled out your corset and raised with your breathing. That damned perfume you wore and how it mixed with your scent had been a drug to him this night. Your eyes that stared up at him like a doe and looked at him like he was a god. He couldn’t help but remember your soft plump lips, the way they parted slightly when he looked your way, how you bit your lip whilst saddling your dragon and worst of all: how deliciously his name sounded coming out of them. He had not yet heard you say his name, but it being paired with such a submissive plead made it all the more torturous. He slowly breathed through his nose; head tilted back resting on the bricks. Aemond was too infatuated with you to ever hate your effect on him. His frustrations only grew greater the more he knew you. He was at a grand dinner, filled with every food and treat he could ever imagine, yet all he wished to taste was between your legs. He decided then and there on that balcony that his affections for you must go. ‘It should not be so painful’ He thought to himself, after all, you only had a few short days left in the capital.

The following day started even earlier, with the second day of the celebrations taking place in the gardens. You yawned into the palm of your hand and watched as the front side pieces of your hair were brought back and weaved into a delicate braid. “You mustn’t stay up so late princess!” The handmaiden fretted as she pulled out the dress you had chosen yesterday. You eyed it, before glancing towards the window to see the sun breaking out through the clouds, giving you an idea.

“It looks like it could really warm up in the garden under the sun, I was thinking of wearing this dress instead.” You lifted the dark berry coloured dress up in front of your handmaidens.

“I think you may get cold your grace.” One of the younger handmaidens spoke eyeing the dress, after a harsh glare from the eldest maiden she continued, “But you will look perfect no matter what!” She clarified with a nervous chuckle. You smiled at her in reassurance and allowed the cluster of ladies to dress you. Once they had finished arguing over minor details you stood back to look at your reflection. This was a dress you had never worn before, meant for particularly warm weather. It was an off the shoulder cut, that capped your upper arms with a tie. The dark coloured material was thinner than your regular dresses and the skirt flowed with any movement you made. After trying to sound as nonchalant as possible you once again asked for the rose perfume oil. After a few dots were dabbed on your wrists and neck, you thanked your ladies and placed the delicate bottle on the vanity. Once they had filed out you reapplied a few extra drops to your skin before dropping a small amount onto your fingertips and ran it through the ends of your hair. You looked beautiful, and hoped this would gain Aemond’s affections once more.

The garden party was a success from the get-go. Conversations bubbled, drinks were poured, and the food spread was something to marvel at. You were walking through the flowerbeds, arms linked with Baela, both of your laughs travelling from reminiscing on moments from your shared childhoods. “I heard you and Aemond caused quite the stir last night.” Baela giggled, nudging her elbow into yours.

“Word does travel fast in the capital,” You laughed. “And it was not a shared commotion, he was the one who left in a rush after we danced!” You reasoned with her; slight frustration apparent in your tone.

“And what a dance it appears to have been, they’d be able to smell you from Pentos.” You frowned slightly, wondering if you had overdone it today. She turned to face you, placing her hand over yours. “I jest of course, anyone would be lucky to catch your eye.” Baela’s smile was genuine and reassured your worries. You looked around the crowds of people once more, eyes fleeting from face to face. “He’s still not arrived yet.” Your eyes met hers once again as you both burst into loud laughter.

After much convincing from Alicent and a more silent encouragement from approach from Helaena, Aemond was finally making an appearance at the garden party. He thought to himself ‘What could a child so young possibly want with such celebrations?’ He justified his annoyance for his affections for you by dismissing the whole day, but being Maelor’s uncle he was expected to be there at some point. He was mere seconds into his arrival at the party before he overheard a distinct sound that made his heart sting. The familiar song of your laughter rang out from across the gardens. Every fibre of his being urged him to look for you, just to turn his head and see your face once more. Against all odds he kept his eyes trained on the floor and made his way to a quieter corner of the event in an attempt to go against his instincts and hide from you. He stood with his cup, fingers tracing across the details, a few feet away from the largely untouched array of desserts.

You grew frustrated as you looked around once more for your uncle’s presence. “Drink this, it’ll relax your nerves.” Baela handed you a cup with a dark red liquid in the bottom of it. “I know, wine isn’t for you, but this one is sweet! I think you’ll like it.” You nodded and took a sip, there was a slight burn as you swallowed it, but the fruity taste overtook it, and you nodded in agreement with her. As Baela and Jacaerys began talking intently you decided to have a look the foods on offer. You took another sip of your wine, the sweetness made you crave the sugared fruits the cooks always put out after dinner. After glancing over each table filled with every animal you could think of, cooked in every way. Your eyes made contact with a cake that was almost the size of you. Peering round the corner of the tent your eyes spotted something even more tempting. Aemond stood to himself, brows furrowed and finger lightly tapping against his cup in slight sync with the distant music that played.

“Uncle! I thought you were not going to make an appearance.” You tried to hide your excitement as you stepped into the tent and faced him. He seemed taken aback by the sudden presence of someone. His gaze shot up from the floor and lingered on your body, fleeting from your face to the way your dress fitted your figure. Just as he thought he’d mustered the strength to speak a light breeze rustled through the gardens and cascaded through your hair. ‘That damned floral perfume’ he thought to himself as he tried to hold his composure. After taking in her appearance once more, he noticed something unusual.

“I didn’t think you to be a wine drinker.” He spoke to you, his jaw clenched stiff.

You giggled slightly, “Me neither! But this one is Dornish, it’s a lot sweeter.” You took a step closer to him and held up your cup to him. “Would you like to taste?” You looked up at him through your lashes.

‘Yes’, He thought. “No.” He answered bluntly, “Thank you, no thank you.” His Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he answered, and you tilted your head slightly.

“Well, there’s plenty if you change your mind.” You smiled at him and turned towards the desserts table, various cakes, fruit pies, candied treats, decorated the large table.

You placed your cup and traced your finger across the end of the table eyeing the selection, you spotted your favourite sugared fruits. “I love these!” You exclaimed as you made your way over to the selection: cherries, berries of all kinds, plums, and peaches. You selected one of the peach slices and looked towards Aemond to find him watching intently. You popped the slice in your mouth and closed your eyes and exhaled a small ‘mmm’. You eyed the remaining sugar on your thumb and index finger. You looked into Aemond’s eye and popped the tip of your finger into your mouth and sucked the crystals off and releasing your finger with a pop.  He muttered a short ‘gods’ to himself as he watched you round the table, another piece of fruit in hand. You faced him and held out the small piece of fruit. “You should taste it for yourself Aemond.” Something changed on his face, he looked down at you and slapped the fruit out of your hand and grabbed you by your wrist and led you out of the tent into the empty corridor nearby. “Uncle, Uncle!” You protested quietly once you were led far enough away to not be heard by guests.

“Let go,” you demanded, pushing his hand away. You eyed him as he turned away from you, breathing steadily, hands balled into fits. “Why have you dragged me out here?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone.

“Why have I?” He turned to face you, “Why have I?” He roared, stepping a pace towards you. Stepping backwards you felt the stone walls hit your shoulders. “It is you, you who has poisoned my thoughts ever since you got here, you who has made even existing in the same room as you arduous yet being away from you nearly impossible. You danced with every fool this side of The Narrow Sea and even then, you could not keep your eyes on them and not me. Calling me by my name. Now today-“, He furrowed his brows, remembering the sight of you in that tent. “Gods.” He whispered, running a hand over his face. “Do you really wish to torture me so?” He looked up at you, fragments of defeat washing over his face.

You pushed yourself away from the wall, taking a step towards him leaving an impossibly small gap between the two of you. “Nyke pendagon bisa iksin skoros ao jeldan hen nyke, Iāpa.” (I thought this was what you wanted from me, uncle.) His jaw remained tense, as slight confusion washed over him. You rose to the tips of your toes to whisper to him, “Hen aōha byka genes.” (From your little mouse.)

Without hesitation you felt his large hand cup the side of your face, his other snaking around your waist, the force of it pinning you towards the wall. His fingers brushed down your face, resting beneath your chin. His thumb tentatively ran across your bottom lip. Aemond leaned down to the side of your face, “Tell me to stop, tell me to stop and I will walk away.” His breath fanned over you; lips grazing against your neck. It took all of your efforts to not crumble beneath him.

“Ȳdra daor keligon.” (Don’t stop.) Your breath was shaky as Aemond brought his face to yours. You placed a hand against his chest and leaned up to kiss him before a rumble of distant laughter reminded you both of your current location.

He grabbed your hand from upon his chest and led you down the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your slippers tapping twice as fast on the floor to keep up with his long strides. As you both climbed the spiral staircase towards the chambers, voices rang out on the floor in front of you. Aemond brought you both to a halt, keeping his back against the wall and pulled your back towards him to avoid detection. “Why did we st-“ You started before feeling his large hand covering your mouth. He whispered a small shush into your ear. A heat spread across you face feeling a large bulge in his trousers, just above your ass. Once the footsteps had completely disappeared, he climbed the rest of the stairs, hand still firmly gripping yours. His spare hand pushed open the heavy door with such urgency, crashed against the wall beside it. He pulled you into his chambers, almost pulling you off your feet before only breaking eye contact to close and lock the door behind him.

He stepped towards you, unbuckling his jacket from the top. “Tell me to stop.” He once again commanded.

“No.” You spoke so quietly you weren’t even sure it had left your lips, but Aemond had definitely heard it. He pulled you close, keeping your bodies flush and brought a hand to your hair, pulling you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips graze yours slightly before delving into a deep kiss. You struggled to keep up with his desperate pace at first, feeling overwhelmed a gasp left your lips in an attempt to catch your breath. Aemond pulled away ever so slightly before planting a small kiss to the side of your mouth and kissing across your jaw.

“Turn around,” He whispered. You did as he instructed and turned your back to him. His hands gathered your hair and looped it over your shoulder. His hands traced down your back to the satin ties of your dress, before undoing the bow. You felt as his pulled your dress down your arms, down your torso and heard it drop to the floor in a light whoosh. You felt exposed, this was your first time in just your undergarments around anyone other than your handmaidens, and a man at that. His hands moved to the lacings of your corset, undoing each loop as his eyes consumed every inch of new flesh he saw. He tossed your corset to the side and pulled the rest of your undergarments off, and your arms instinctively crossed your chest. Grabbing a hold of your hand, he pulled you around to face him once more. A low groan escaped his lips at the sight of you before bringing your face to his in a deep kiss. His body led you to the foot of his bed, your back hitting one of the towering bedposts.

You let out a small gasp as his lips left yours and latched onto your neck. His hand came to your jaw and tilted your head back to look up at him. “Ivestragon nyke skoros jaelā.” (Tell me what you want.) His voice sent a heat that spread across your body.

“I want you to-“ You started before he cut you off, fingers gripping your hair slightly.

“Daor.” (No.) He eyed you, thumb tracing your jawline.

You realised what he was requesting. Your brain sped through thousands of scenarios you could’ve imagined before settling on one. “Obūljagon.” (Kneel.) You spoke with all the confidence you could gather. His typical smirk returned to his lips as he scanned your face. He was not sure what he had expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. A welcomed surprise, he sank to his knees in front of you. You watched as his lips peppered small kisses across your hips, running his hands up your thighs. He parted your legs and lifted your leg up and over his shoulder by the back of your knee. You gripped the footboard of the bed to steady yourself. An almost growl left his lips at the sight of your pussy mere inches away from his face. A sharp gasp left your lips at the feeling of his large fingers spreading your wetness from your core to your clit.

He brought one of his fingers to his lips and sucked the tip of it, watching your face intently. “Mmm, all this for me?” He grumbled rubbing the inside of your thigh at a painfully slow pace.

“Yes- Kessa, syt ao.” (Yes, for you.) You felt your pussy clenching, aching to be touched. His fingers moved to your pussy, teasing your folds before starting to slowly rub circles across your clit. You let out a moan, desperate for more. A smirk painted his lips, watching you in this state. Surrounded by the plush of your thighs, your small moans filling his ears, watching your nails dig into the footboard just to cope with the sensation. His middle and third finger slid down from your clit to the entrance of your pussy.

Your eyes opened and mouth parted to question the lack of contact before you felt his two fingers slide inside of you. You let out a loud moan at the foreign sensation. He worked his fingers in and out of you at slow pace, admiring as he watched them disappear into you, stretching you out and covering them in your slick. He left small kisses on your inner thigh, keeping his eye on your face. “More,” You pleaded in between moans. Aemond considered teasing you further, before giving into your request. His sped up his fingers pumping inside of you, increasing the tightening in your lower stomach. He admired your face screwed up in pleasure for one more moment before latching his lips upon your clit. A loud ‘fuck’ left your lips, and even you were partially surprised by the vulgarity of your language before all you could think about was Aemond’s tongue. He alternated between furiously licking and sucking your clit as his fingers pumped at a rapid pace inside of you. Your other hand moved up the bed post, gripping it for dear life as the man beneath you pleasured you. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his tongue as your moans grew louder and more frequent. A moan that left Aemond’s lips vibrated across your clit pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name and felt your pussy clench around his quick fingers. He continued to thrust them inside of you and delivered a few final licks to your clit, only stopping when your legs began to quiver. He slowly removed his fingers from your pussy and planted a final kiss on your clit, earning a shiver from you. He wiped the wetness from his chin with his cotton shirt before moving your leg off from his shoulder and rose to his feet and held his hand upon your waist sensing your wobbliness. He raised his fingers towards you admiring the wetness that coated them. He brought them up to your lips and you opened your mouth, feeling them run over your tongue towards the back of your throat. You sucked them clean, watching his expression from beneath your eyelashes.

Despite how hungrily he had attended to you, he looked at you like he was starved. “Better than any of the sugared fruits down there.” He gestured towards the window, and you blushed at his remark. Never had you been filled with such desire; you had just reached your peak on Aemond’s tongue, yet you needed more. His hand collected yours, as he led you over to his bed. His lips once again found yours as he pushed you towards the edge of the bed. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you plopped down. His lips left yours and you looked up at him expectantly. His fingers gripped the ends of his shirt before lifting it off of his head and tossing it with the rest of the discarded clothes. You eyed the definition of his chest, down his stomach and his arms that landed either side of your head, pushing you down onto the bed until your head hit the pillows. His lips latched onto your neck and eagerly kissed down your chest between the valley of your breasts.

“You do not know how much I have dreamt of this,” His large hand travelled up your side to cup your breast, his hand playing with the plumpness of it before his thumb ran over your nipple. “Moaning my name, naked in my bed, all needy for me.” His tongue traced the perimeter of your nipple before taking it into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue and earning another moan from you. Those moans that could sustain him for the rest of his life he was pretty sure.

“I also dreamt of you.” You spoke meekly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. He raised his head from your breast, brow raised.

“And what did you think about little mouse.” His smirk radiated off of him. You dreamt of him. The tightness in his trousers had become almost unbearable, but he needed to hear your sweet voice talking about him.

“I was touching you, a-and you were enjoying it.” You spoke, interrupted by a moan or two from his touch stimulating your nipples. He hummed a small ‘mmm’ in response before he moving off you and laying beside you, back propped up against the headboard. You turned to your side and looked and him inquisitively, his hand rubbed slowly over the bulge in his trousers and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. He patted the bed next to his hips and you knelt facing him, unsure of what to expect. His hands reached for the tie of his trousers before you reached out and placed a hand over his. “Wait!” He looked at you with a hint of concern before you continued, “Can I try? And you tell me what you like along the way?” His jaw stiffened for a moment before he moved his hand to tangle in your hair and bring your lips to his.

You pulled your lips away from kiss and moved to kiss his neck. You started tenderly, mirroring how he had kissed yours as your hand slid down his chest towards his trousers. His breathing became more uneven as your hands touched him. Your hand fumbled with the tie of his trousers, struggling to undo it before you removed your lips from his collarbone to concentrate on the tie. He watched as your brows furrowed together, he felt as if he could finish at the sight of you. Beautiful and naked, trying so desperately to get into his pants. You finally undid the tie and looked up to Aemond with a sheepish smile, “I am not used to trousers it seems.” You giggled, and it seemed by reflex he planted a kiss on your lips.

“Dōna.” (Sweet) Your cheeks burned with his affection.

Your fingers looped over the hem of his trousers, and you pulled them down along with his undergarments as he lifted his hips slightly. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him, his cock was large and red at the tip. You froze for a second – the paintings and stories had not prepared you as well as you’d thought. You watched as his hand came to his cock and pumped it slowly a few times. His free hand reached for yours and replaced it with his own, “Just like this.” You followed the movements he had previously made, concentrating on trying to make him feel good. A small hiss brought your gaze back to his face to see his eye squeezed shut and hands gripping the sheets beneath him. You slowly increased your movements, enjoying the feeling of his cock in your hands, as you noticed a bead of precum spill his tip. Working on instinct you leant your head down and licked your tongue in a broad stroke across the tip of his cock, tasting him in your mouth. His eye immediately snapped open, “Don’t-“ He groaned.

“Sorry I-, I thought it would feel good like it did for me when you…” You trailed off searching his face. He panted, bringing your face to his. He placed his hand over yours and continued pumping his cock indicating for you to continue. He rested your forehead against his and inhaled deeply.

“It does feel good, great even, much too good.” You watched him confused, if it felt so good, why couldn’t you do it? “The difference between you and I, men and women, you may finish as many times as you please.” His voice travelled over you like honey, his free hand sliding down your stomach and rubbed his two middle fingers over your clit. “I may only once, for now, and I intend to do it in your sweet pussy.” His fingers ran small circles over your clit causing a flurry of moans to leave your lips. Your hand continued to run up and down the length of his cock, but it was hard to think straight when Aemond touched you.

“Can I feel your cock inside of me too?” Your question was genuine, if not laden with lust. It was all Aemond needed to hear before his hand reached your hip pushing you onto your back. He kissed you, hungrier than ever, barely giving you chance to keep up.

“Mirros syt ao.” (Anything for you.) He said in between kisses. He spread your legs apart, eyeing your soaking cunt, and stroked himself a couple of times before leaning over you, elbow resting beside your head. You felt as he ran his cock up and down from your clit to your core, a low groan leaving his lips. “Remember to breathe deeply, Dōna.” (Sweet). You nodded, unsure of what to expect. Aemond’s weight shifted, and you gasped as his cock slowly slid into you. Your brows furrowed as the slight discomfort slid away and was replaced with a new pleasure. His cock bottomed out, and you reached your hand to his cheek, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. He slowly started thrusting, the pace was painfully slow, but he was determined to make you feel good. As his pace picked up, his cock continuously hit a spot in your pussy that his fingers did not, causing a rather loud moan to escape your lips. “Mazemā ziry sīr sȳrī.” (You take it so well.) His praise caused a familiar tightening to start to form in your stomach.

“I love the way you feel.” Your moans filled his ears, fuelling him to go faster. His hand free hand snaked between your bodies and found your clit once more. His thrusts pounded into you, as his fingers diligently worked at your sensitive clit. The headboard begun to crack against the wall with each movement, not that either of you noticed. The quiet but delicious moans that left Aemond’s mouth were enough to ride towards your peak, the coil in your stomach tightening as you gripped your nails into his back. “Fuck! Aemond!” You exclaimed. His large cock filling you up and his fingers playing with your clit caused your orgasm to wash over you, feeling yourself tighten around his cock. His thrusts became quick and erratic as you rode out your high and his groans growing louder and more animalistic as he finished inside of you.

He panted, dropping to his elbow, and planting a small kiss upon your cheek, before pulling out of you slowly. You groaned at the loss of the fullness, missing the feeling of him already. Aemond lay beside you, pulling you by your hips to have your back against his chest. As both of your breathing slowly returned to normal you felt a small shiver run across your body, now aware of the breeze through the window. Aemond’s hand came up and ran up and down the length of your arm and pulled you close. “Is it possible to remain here all day.” You sighed, cuddling the blankets in front of you.

Aemond chuckled, “It is not our name day.” He planted a small kiss upon your shoulder. “But I do think people may notice both of our absences.” He spoke softly, with a small amount of his serious tone peeking through. You groaned, liking the feeling of being in Aemond’s arm, in his bed.

“Aemond?” You questioned, turning slightly to face him. He hummed a ‘hmm?’ in response, opening his eye. “Kessa gaomā bona run lēda aōha ēngos arlī gō īlon return naejot se rūklun?” (Will you do that thing with your tongue again before we return to the party?). A playful smirk returned to his face as he shifted above you on the bed.

“Va moriot” (Always).

[ikeucity]

𝗣𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗢𝗠. — (정원)

pairing. stepbrother!jungwon x reader (ft. mystery enha member x reader) word count. 54k

warning. contains themes of heavy slow-burn plot, dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual voyeurism, emotional manipulation, degradation, humiliation, gaslighting, manipulation, step-sibling incest, intense power dynamics, possessiveness, obsession, rough sex, cheating, spying, mentions of bodily fluids, alcohol use, mild coercion, dark themes, and explicit sexual content (18+). mdni.

living with jungwon has always been easy—sure, he's lazy, sure, he doesn’t have a job, but you loved your stepbrother anyway. but when someone else steps into your life, threatening the peace he's fought to keep, you start to wonder just how far jungwon will go to protect the life he's built around you... and what he's willing to do to keep it that way.

co-written with @jaeyunsmochi she helped me with this, and i cannot thank her enough for all her input.

families were supposed to come together out of love, not convenience. that’s what you used to believe, anyway. after your dad passed and your mom remarried, everything changed. it wasn’t just grief anymore; suddenly, you had this new family dropped into your life, and you were expected to accept it. just like that. jungwon came into your life when you were both barely teenagers, awkward and trying to figure out how to exist in a world that felt like it was constantly shifting under your feet. back then, he was more like a shadow than anything else. always there, but never in your way. he’d hover near your bedroom door, quiet, not saying much, but his presence was always... there. comforting, in a strange way. he was clingy, yeah, but you didn’t mind it. he’d tag along after school, sitting beside you on the couch, waiting for you to pick the show. you’d flick his forehead when he said something dumb, and he’d laugh, wide-eyed and innocent, like everything was easy. and back then? it was. you didn’t think much of it. jungwon was just your stepbrother. harmless. you even joked about it with your friends sometimes, saying he was too attached. but it was no big deal—just the way things were. that was then. now, it’s different. you’re not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, jungwon stopped being the awkward kid who hung around doorways. he grew up. and so did you. you didn’t notice it right away, probably because you were too wrapped up in your own life—dating, college, figuring yourself out. but recently... you’ve felt the changes. the air feels heavier between you now. jungwon’s not that scrawny boy anymore. he’s taller, broader, his shoulders filling out his clothes in a way that’s impossible to ignore. there’s a quiet confidence in him now that wasn’t there before. when he passes by in the hallway, there’s this tension. something new. your mom even points out how the neighborhood girls are always trying to get his attention, but he never seems interested. and that’s the thing—he doesn’t seem interested in anyone. not in the way you’d expect. at first, you thought maybe he was just focused on school. maybe even... gay. for a while, you were convinced of it. but then, you remembered the stuff you’d accidentally seen—his porn history popping up on the family computer a few times said otherwise. okay, so... he definitely wasn't gay. threesomes, bdsm, no other dicks included, some other kinky stuff, hell even stepsister porn. you teased him about it when you caught him, his face turning red as he slammed the laptop shut. back then, you laughed it off. just teenage boy stuff, right? but now, it's like you’re seeing him through a different lens. it’s not just jungwon, though. jake and sunghoon, his best friends, grew up too. they came into the picture a few years after jungwon, and back then, they were dorky, awkward, always cracking dumb jokes and geeking out over games. they were like brothers to you, in a way. except jungwon, but that was always a different story. now, they’re not those awkward kids anymore. jake’s taller, leaner, and those messy curls that once made him look boyish now make girls turn their heads. sunghoon traded in his glasses for contacts, hit the gym, and suddenly he’s got this bad-boy charm that leaves girls staring.

watching them change from the boys you knew into confident men—men who now tower over you—it’s weird. it’s like you missed the transition, and now you’re left catching up. you’d always been the big sister figure, offering advice, guiding them through awkward phases. but now, they look at you differently too. you feel it. jake’s compliments linger a little longer, sunghoon’s teasing has this edge to it, flirty, suggestive. they don’t cross any lines, but the dynamic has clearly shifted. you’re not sure how to handle it. but, as always, you had to grow up faster than they did. when you graduated, your mom and stepdad left the flat to you and jungwon. just the two of you again, trying to figure out adulthood. you’d drifted apart during those college years—he found his group, you focused on boys, academics, trying to figure out who you were. but now, somehow, you’ve drifted back together. maybe it’s because you’re both older now, more mature. living with jungwon feels... natural. comforting, even. but at the same time, it’s not easy anymore. not when you see him like this—strong, confident. not when you feel this attraction building up inside you. and it’s not just his appearance. it’s the way he’s always around. not in a clingy way like before, but always choosing to be near you. it makes you wonder if it’s just out of convenience or if maybe... maybe he feels it too. that pull. that connection. you love him, of course you do. he’s your stepbrother. but these feelings... they’re twisted, wrong. and you keep telling yourself they’ll pass. that it’s just some messed-up phase. but the more time you spend alone with him in the apartment, the more the tension builds, pulling you toward something you know you shouldn’t want.

but you can’t shake it. your love life isn’t helping either. after years of failed relationships—guys who got bored or cheated—you’ve started to wonder if maybe the problem is you. are you not enough? you’ve vented to jake and sunghoon about it, and they always tell you the same thing—you’re beautiful, smart, any guy would be lucky to have you. but their words don’t ease the loneliness. and then, there’s jungwon. you can’t help but compare every guy to him. none of them measure up to his quiet strength, his presence. it’s driving you insane, and you know using him as a standard is wrong. but you can’t stop. he’s still attached to you. not like before, but he’s always there. and sometimes, you wonder if it’s out of convenience, because he just doesn't want to be bothered paying rent, or if he feels it too—that pull. whatever it is, it’s messing with your head. you’ve tried to distract yourself, but with your job draining you and no real outlet, it’s impossible. the flat feels more like his than yours—sleek, minimal, no warmth. it’s functional. just like him. but hey, it worked. your mornings are always the same. you stumble out of bed, hair a mess, half-asleep, and drag yourself to the kitchen for caffeine. and there he is, already on the couch, headset on, yelling into his mic like it’s the end of the world. his voice is the first thing you hear, every single day—not the birds outside, not the traffic. just him. “jake, for fuck’s sake, move!” jungwon’s voice cut through the quiet of the flat, his fingers mashing at the controller. you stood at the kitchen counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, your eyes drifting to where he sat on the couch. he leaned forward, whole body tense, muscles shifting under his skin every time his hands tightened on the controller. veins popped out on his forearms, and his focus was locked in, jaw clenched. his hair was a damp mess from his shower, still tousled and drying. jungwon’s bare back, smooth and broad, contrasted against the dark, worn leather of the couch he spent most of his time on. as usual, he was shirtless, lounging in a pair of low-hanging grey boxers. it was a constant reminder of how much had changed. he wasn’t the lanky stepbrother who used to hover by your door anymore—jungwon was all grown up, and you noticed every inch of it. “can you keep it down?” you called, half-exasperated, setting your bowl on the counter as you reached for the milk. he didn’t look at you, muttering under his breath, clearly more invested in his game than acknowledging your presence. you could hear jake’s voice muffled through the headset, followed by sunghoon’s laughter. “jesus,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. grabbing your bowl, you wandered over to the couch and sat next to him, closer than you needed to be, leaning in just enough to be in his space. his shoulder brushed against yours, but he didn’t even flinch, eyes still glued to the screen. you nudged him with your elbow, a grin tugging at your lips. “wanna share the screen? looks like you’re losing.” he swatted at you lazily, not breaking his focus. “can you not?” he grumbled, frustration obvious in his voice as gunfire crackled through his headset.

jake’s voice came through, amused. “dude, is that y/n again?” “yep,” sunghoon added with a laugh. “tell her to fuck off before we lose.” “i’m not doing anything,” you smirked, crunching obnoxiously on a spoonful of cereal. “just enjoying my breakfast.” jungwon shot you a quick glare, his brow furrowed, and you couldn’t help but find it a little endearing. he acted annoyed, but this was your thing. pestering him was fun, and deep down, you knew he liked it. even if he’d never admit it. you shifted beside him, your shorts riding up slightly, which caught his attention for a split second. his eyes flicked down to your legs, a quick glance, but you didn’t notice. he clenched the controller tighter, jaw set as he forced himself to focus on the game. “you’re so annoying,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it, making you grin wider. leaning into him more, you let your head rest on his shoulder. “can’t help it. you’re just so easy to mess with.” “stop it,” sunghoon’s voice came through the headset again, exasperated. “seriously, let him play. he’s already fucking up.” “i’m not fucking up!” jungwon shot back, defensive, his voice faltering slightly. you snickered under your breath, watching him try to focus despite how close you were. without thinking, you grabbed the controller from his hands, holding it out of his reach. “wanna see if i can do better?” “y/n, come on,” he growled, lunging toward you to snatch it back, but you dodged, grinning like a fool. “admit it, i’m way more fun than this stupid game,” you teased, waving the controller in the air. jungwon leaned in again, his hand brushing against your thigh as he reached for the controller, his fingers circling your wrist in a firm grip. the touch made you freeze for a second. his hand lingered just a bit too long before he pulled away, his face suddenly serious. “just give it back,” he muttered, his voice low, controlled. your heartbeat kicked up, but you handed it back. “jeez, relax.” as he took the controller, his fingers brushed yours, sending a shiver up your arm. for a moment, the air felt heavy, charged with something you didn’t want to think too much about. “you’re stronger than you look,” you said quietly, more to break the silence than anything. he didn’t look at you, just smirked slightly, still focused on the game. “you’re just weaker than you think.” “fuck off,” you laughed, though your mind lingered on how easily he could’ve overpowered you if he wanted to. snap out of it, y/n. sunghoon’s voice cut through the headset again. “about time she let go of the controller. man, you’re way too soft on her.”

jake chimed in, laughing. “if i had a sister, she wouldn’t even get near my stuff.” you rolled your eyes, chuckling as you grabbed your phone off the coffee table. a text from your boss flashed on the screen. jay from seattle will be at the office by noon. show him around. “ugh, i forgot i have to babysit some new guy at work today,” you groaned, slumping back down next to jungwon. “already tired of annoying me?” jungwon asked, glancing at you as his character respawned. “i was supposed to have the day off,” you sighed dramatically. “now i have to play tour guide for some guy named jay. transferred from seattle. sounds like a blast.” the volume of the game was loud enough that you could hear jake and sunghoon laughing. “maybe jay’s hot,” jake teased. “seattle guys have that brooding, rugged thing going on, right?” you snorted. “yeah, right. knowing my luck, he’s probably some middle-aged dude with bad breath who smells like stale coffee and has a comb-over.” “or,” jake continued, “he could be exactly what you need. you’ve been working non-stop. loosen up a bit.” jungwon glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “you wouldn’t know what to do with him even if he was hot.” your eyebrow shot up at the slight challenge in his voice. “oh, really?” he didn’t look away this time, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re too uptight. all you do is work.” “i’m not uptight,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “i just have my shit together. someone has to feed your lazy ass.” jake and sunghoon’s laughter rang through the headset, but jungwon didn’t smile. instead, he shrugged, his tone softer. “nothing’s gonna happen with this jay guy.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness. “and how would you know?” he didn’t answer, focusing back on the screen, his fingers pressing the buttons a little too aggressively. as you stood up to head back to your room, jungwon’s phone lit up on the coffee table, vibrating softly. you leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the name on the screen, but jungwon noticed, flipping it over quickly. “what’s that about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “none of your business,” he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV, his voice tight. your jaw dropped as you turned to jungwon. “wait, you’re seeing someone?” jungwon sighed, clearly irritated. “they’re exaggerating. it’s nothing." “nothing?” sunghoon’s voice broke through the headset, laughter lacing his tone. “pretty sure she’s been over a few times, man.” you stared at jungwon, genuinely taken aback. he’s been seeing someone and didn’t tell me? you thought you were close. close enough that if there was someone new in his life—someone he was bringing over to the flat—you’d be the first to know. but no, he kept it to himself. a pang of something settled in your chest, annoyance creeping up at how easily he brushed it off like it was no big deal. what else has he been hiding? sure, you and him had your boundaries, but he told you everything. or so you thought. “you’ve been seeing someone and didn’t tell me?” you asked, your voice betraying the slight sting of being left in the dark. jungwon’s face flushed just the tiniest bit, and you noticed how his eyes narrowed, defensive. “it’s not like that. it’s… not serious.”

not serious? you couldn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling a little. so she’s been here more than once? this wasn’t just a random hookup. there was someone coming over, sleeping in the same flat, and you had no idea. “wow,” you muttered, trying to process the information. “and here i thought you barely left the house.” jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “she comes over sometimes. it’s no big deal.” no big deal, huh? something in you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. it was stupid, but maybe part of you expected to be more in the loop with him, to know when things changed like this. and damn, if he was seeing someone, that girl was hella lucky. your eyes flicked to jungwon’s frame, you could just picture it—jungwon fucking someone into the mattress. he could probably break a girl apart, the way his body moved, the way he stayed composed even when his temper flared. fuck, why were you even thinking about this?

the thought made your stomach turn with a weird mixture of disgust and guilt, your mind snapping back to reality. what the hell, y/n? that’s your stepbrother you’re thinking about, for fuck’s sake. you leaned back, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to shake the lingering thoughts. “well, i’m happy for you. about time you found someone. maybe now you’ll stop being so moody all the time.” “piss off, y/n,” he muttered, but the way he said it lacked the usual bite. you grinned, moving a little closer, determined to push his buttons just a bit more. “i’d love to meet her, though. see what kind of girl puts up with you.” jungwon’s entire expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he shot you a sharp glance. “not happening.” your smile faded slightly. “why not?” “because it’s nothing,” he snapped, a little more forceful this time. his eyes flicked away from yours, the tension in his voice unmistakable. you raised your hands in surrender, laughing lightly to break the tension. “alright, alright. i’ll drop it. for now.”

as you stood up to head back to your room, that strange unease in your chest lingered, creeping up your spine like something wasn’t quite right. just as you reached the hallway, your phone buzzed again. a message from your boss—jay is on his way. you groaned softly, already feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. "looks like jay’s gonna be here sooner than i thought," you muttered mostly to yourself, dreading the responsibility that came with showing him around. you weren’t in the mood for it, not today. jungwon paused the game, glancing at you over his shoulder, hearing jake and sunghoon still shouting through the headset. he ignored them, focusing on you instead, eyes narrowing just a bit, “you don’t have to do it, you know.” you turned to him, confused by his sudden comment. "what? of course, i do. it’s my job." he shrugged, leaning back against the couch, "you’re always working. you don’t have to take on everything. they can find someone else to do it." you raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle edge in his voice, something almost too quick, too dismissive. since when did he care about my workload?

"since when do you care about how much I work?" you asked, half-joking but genuinely curious. "i don’t," he muttered, his words coming out a little too fast, his attention flicking back to the game, fingers tightening on the controller. "just... you never take a break. let someone else handle the boring shit for once.” what the hell was that about? you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "yeah, well, someone’s gotta pay for this flat and feed you." “i can take care of myself,” he grumbled, but there was something off about the way he said it. like he was trying to convince himself more than you, the usual sharpness in his voice missing. "really?" you teased, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "you? mr. video game addict who barely leaves the house unless it’s with jake and sunghoon?" he scoffed, but it sounded forced. "i go out," he snapped, though the defensiveness in his tone only made you laugh more. it was like he couldn’t handle the thought of you not taking him seriously.

"oh, right. to jog. very social of you," you shot back, smirking, trying to lighten the weird tension that had settled between you. “i said, i can take care of myself,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, almost like he didn’t fully believe it. his eyes flickered up to meet yours for a split second before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus back on the game. you smirked, pushing off the doorframe, but the unease in your chest only grew. “sure, you can.” what was his problem? there was something about the way he brushed off the conversation, acting so casual but clearly irritated by something. the mention of jay? was that what was getting under his skin? but why would that even bother him? you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. jungwon was just being… well, jungwon. moody, defensive, sometimes hard to read. the weight of it followed you, pressing against your thoughts as you tried to focus on the day ahead, already dreading dealing with jay and the endless office bullshit. just what you needed—more distractions when your mind was already a fucking mess.

you pulled into the office parking lot, fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel as some random song played in the background. you weren’t even listening—your mind was too busy spiraling with thoughts about the day ahead. how the hell are you going to explain to jay just how toxic this place is? the office politics alone could suck the life out of anyone, and your boss? well, he was a nightmare. you didn’t exactly envy jay, but then again, you didn’t even know what kind of person he was yet. as you scanned the parking lot, your eyes landed on a man standing awkwardly near the entrance, briefcase in hand, looking painfully out of place. he looked like someone who got lost on his way to a corporate halloween party. really, universe? did it have to be the middle-aged guy with the briefcase? you sighed and pulled up closer, rolling down your window. “jay?” you called out. he looked at you, utterly confused, his face blank like he had no idea what you were talking about. this can’t be him, right? “uh, mr. park sent me to show you around?” you added, trying to make sense of the situation. “i’m y/n—” before you could finish, a head popped into view at your window, making you jump in your seat, heart racing as your eyes snapped to the figure now crouched by your car. “looking for me?” and there he was—the real jay. fuck. tall, devastatingly handsome, wearing a suit so perfect you were pretty sure it cost more than your rent. his hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and that smile—god, that smile—lit up his face like he knew exactly how good he looked. it took everything in you not to openly gawk at him. this guy wasn’t just hot—he was jaw-droppingly, heart-racing, take-your-breath-away kind of attractive. and just to top it off, he smelled incredible, like cedarwood, spice, and something else you couldn’t place but was definitely dangerous.

your heart raced, and it felt like you were back in high school, locking eyes with your crush for the first time. and the way he looked at you, all confidence and charm, didn’t fucking help. you swallow thickly as your brain short-circuited for a second. doing your best to mask the shock—and the blatant gawking—as you extended your hand to shake his. but then you realized, oh, right, he was crouched down, his face level with your car window, meaning there was no way he could actually reach you from there. he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “we doing handshakes from inside the car now?”

you felt your cheeks heat up slightly, embarrassed by how thrown off you were. “uh, no, i—” you pulled your hand back awkwardly, trying to regain your composure. “i just wasn’t expecting… well, you.” he grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “and what exactly were you expecting?” you gestured toward the poor guy standing a few feet behind him, still clutching his briefcase. “not… not you.” jay glanced over his shoulder at the guy, chuckling. “oh, him?” he laughed, the sound deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “nah, that’s the temp. he’s just helping out while i get settled.” right. of course. because why would the universe make this easy for you? he straightened up, giving you a full view of just how tall he really was. damn, the guy was built like a dream. he adjusted his suit jacket, flashing you another one of those infuriatingly perfect smiles. “so, you’re my guide for the day?” you nodded, finally getting a grip on yourself. “yeah, i’ll be showing you around, introducing you to the team, that sort of thing.” “sounds fun,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. he stepped back from the car, giving you room to get out. you took a breath, trying to shake off the sudden nerves. he’s just a colleague, y/n. stop acting like you’re on a damn date. you got out of the car, smoothing your clothes down, doing your best to stay professional. but when you looked up again, jay was still watching you, his gaze following your movements a little too closely.

there was something about him that made it impossible to stay indifferent. confident, sure, but also playful in a way that got under your skin. like he knew exactly what he was doing. “lead the way, then,” he said with a nod toward the building. you nodded back, fighting off the flutter in your chest as you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. get it together, y/n. there were more important things to focus on—like how to warn jay about the office and your boss’s ridiculous expectations. the last thing you needed was a crush. especially on someone like him. as you made your way through the doors, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. you needed to focus on work, not on how good jay looked in that suit or how his presence seemed to linger around you like gravity. jay fell into step beside you, casual and relaxed. “so, y/n,” he started, his voice smooth, “how bad is it working here?” you gave him a half-smile. “oh, you have no idea.” leading him through the maze of cubicles and conference rooms, it was impossible not to notice the way people stared at jay as you passed. it wasn’t just you—everyone noticed him. how could they not? jay didn’t just walk into a room, he commanded it. and the way he made small talk with your coworkers, that smile lighting up his face—it was like he had everyone hooked.

you gave him the usual tour: break room, copy room, the stash of good coffee you stole from your boss’s private stock, and the dreaded hr department, notorious for all the wrong reasons. jay nodded along, paying attention, but you could feel his eyes on you more often than not. by the time you made it to the lounge area, you were ready for a break, not because the tour was tiring, but because being around jay was exhausting in a whole other way. “this is where we hide when the boss is breathing down our necks,” you said, gesturing to the snack station. “snacks, coffee, all the essentials. we can take a break before i show you the rest.” jay chuckled, leaning against the counter with that annoyingly perfect posture. “i've gotta say, this place isn't so bad. you made it sound like a war zone.” you shrugged, reaching for a granola bar. “it’s not the place—it’s the people. management, especially. if you last a week, i’ll be impressed.” he raised an eyebrow, smirking. “that bad, huh?”

you tore open the wrapper, taking a bite. “you don’t know the half of it. the boss is a control freak, expects us to be mind readers.” jay laughed, grabbing a snack for himself, eyes still on you. “good thing i’m good at reading people then.” you felt your cheeks heat up slightly at the way his gaze lingered. yep, definitely flirting. “yeah? how’s that working out for you so far?” you shot back, trying to keep things light but he grinned, leaning a little closer. “i’d say i’m getting the hang of it.” what the hell, jay? maybe it was just you overthinking, but the way he keeps on leaning a closer? god, he needed to stop acting like he fucking wants you or you'd completely lose it. “so,” jay continued, unwrapping his snack, “what keeps someone like you in a place like this?” you laughed softly, leaning against the counter. “honestly? it pays the bills, and i haven’t found anything better yet. you learn how to survive.”

jay watched you for a moment, his gaze almost too intense. “maybe you just haven’t found the right opportunity to leave yet.” there was something in the way he said it, something that made you feel like he was offering more than just advice. “maybe,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was hammering. jay smiled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “you’re not as uptight as you made yourself sound earlier. you’re pretty laid-back.” you laughed, though your stomach flipped at the unexpected compliment. laid-back? not the words jungwon would use to describe you this morning. “i’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, trying to sound casual. jay hummed, his eyes dipping down for a moment before flicking back up to meet yours. there was something almost deliberate in the way he took another slow sip of his drink, like he was savoring it. "it was meant as one. not everyone can pull that off."

jake’s voice from earlier played on a loop in your head: maybe he’s exactly what you need. goddammit, jake wasn’t wrong. the way jay moved, the way his words slipped out so easily, it was like he knew exactly how to push your buttons without even trying. but shit, this was work. you couldn’t lose your head over some pretty boy with a killer smile, no matter how damn good he smelled or how dangerously close he was standing. you took a deep breath, trying to calm the pulse racing in your throat. still, your mouth betrayed you. “you’re dangerous, you know that?” the words came out more playful than you intended, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. jay’s smile widened at that, his eyes lighting up with mischief, the air around him practically buzzing. "i’ve been told." oh, fuck. and just like that, you were completely hooked.

as you closed the office door behind you, glancing at your wristwatch, you realized just how late it had gotten. your heels were killing you, and all you could think about was kicking them off the second you got home. jay walked beside you, his long strides effortlessly keeping pace as you both headed to the parking lot, still chatting about schedules and the mountain of upcoming projects. "so," you said, rubbing your temples, "looks like we’ll be working pretty closely on that new marketing push. i’ll show you the ropes, make sure you don’t drown in all the corporate bullshit." "sounds like i’m in good hands, then." his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, making it impossible not to return the gesture. as you continued walking, the conversation shifted, and jay started opening up more—talking about where he came from. and fuck, was that a surprise. the guy was loaded. not just rich—serious money. the kind that makes you wonder why someone like him would even bother working in a place like this. "so," you said, still trying to process it, "you could probably be running a company by now, right? why take a job here?" jay shrugged, all humble and casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. "i wanted to start from the bottom, you know? understand the employees, the management... see how everything works before i think about building something of my own." you blinked at him, genuinely impressed. who the hell chooses to start from the bottom when they’re sitting on a pile of money? "that’s… honestly, that’s really smart. most people wouldn’t do that." "thanks," he said, smiling warmly. "i like to think i’m in the right place for now." there it was again—that easy charm. it wasn’t just the flirting; it was how natural everything felt with him. the way the conversation flowed effortlessly, like you’d known him forever. and it wasn’t just nice—it was fucking refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t make everything feel like a power play. you glanced at your phone, then cursed under your breath. shit, jungwon. you’d been so wrapped up in the day that you forgot about dinner. and knowing him, he probably hadn’t eaten anything decent since breakfast.

"ugh," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. "i totally forgot, i’ve got a brother to feed." jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "younger brother?" you rolled your eyes, half-laughing. "i wish. that would be way easier. no, he’s grown—just incredibly lazy." jay chuckled, shaking his head. "sounds like a handful." "you have no idea," you replied, smirking. "but someone’s gotta take care of him." you both shared a laugh, the walk settling into an easy rhythm again as you made it to your cars. jay leaned against his door, his eyes lingering on you in a way that was... not subtle. there was something magnetic about him, and as much as you tried to keep your cool, it was becoming harder by the second. "well," jay said, pulling his phone from his pocket, "this was easily one of the best tours i’ve ever been on. we should do it again sometime." he flashed that devastating smile, his eyes flicking back up to yours as he scrolled casually on his screen. "can i get your number? you know, in case i get lost tomorrow and need rescuing." god, he’s good. you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling out your phone to exchange numbers with him. "sure. just don’t make a habit of getting lost, though."

he chuckled, tucking his phone away, his gaze still locked on you. "i’ll try my best. thanks for showing me around, y/n." "anytime," you said, feeling lighter as you waved goodbye and headed toward your car. halfway home, you caught yourself still smiling like a fucking idiot. by the time you finally walked through the door of your apartment, juggling bags of jungwon's favorite takeout, you were greeted by the usual sight of jungwon sprawled out on the couch, xbox controller in hand. he glanced up, his eyes immediately landing on the food you were carrying, eyebrows raised. "what’s the occasion?" he asked, eyeing the bags suspiciously. "you only ever get me this when something really good happens." you grinned, setting the food on the table, still riding the high from earlier. "oh, you know... just had a great day at work." jungwon’s eyes narrowed a little, his suspicion deepening. "a great day, huh?" "yup," you said, kicking off your heels and digging into the food. "jay." jungwon leaned back on the couch, trying to look indifferent. "and?"

you let out a dreamy sigh, not even noticing how his eyes sharpened slightly. "he’s amazing. like, seriously. smart, loaded, and so humble. it’s crazy. oh, and did i mention he’s hot? like, really fucking hot." jungwon kept his face neutral, but there was a flicker of something—something dark that you didn’t catch. "sounds... great." you continued gushing, going on about how well you and jay clicked, the subtle flirting, the easy chemistry. "and the best part? we’re gonna be working on a bunch of projects together. i think we’re gonna make a really good team." jungwon stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the food in front of him. "yeah, well," he finally muttered, his tone clipped, "just don’t get distracted." you paused, mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "distracted?" jungwon shrugged, his eyes flicking up for the briefest moment before going back to his food. "just saying. you’ve got a lot on your plate already." "i can handle it," you replied, brushing off his comment, "besides, it’s not like anything’s going to happen." but even you didn’t believe that. something’s definitely going to happen. you could feel it. jungwon didn’t respond, just grunted and focused back on the tv, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. you shrugged it off, too caught up in the day to care.

as you sat on the couch next to him, scrolling through your phone, a familiar ping made you glance down at your screen. a message from jay. instinctively, a smile tugged at your lips, and without thinking, you bit your lip as you read it. jay: hope you’re not too tired from babysitting me all day. thanks again for the tour. promise i won’t get lost tomorrow... but i might just text you anyway ;) goddamn, he was smooth. your smile widened, and before you knew it, you were already typing back. y/n: i’ll be holding you to that ;) don’t leave me hanging. you hit send, feeling a flutter in your chest as you tossed your phone onto the couch. you were smiling like a fucking teenager, and you knew it. but you didn’t care. jungwon, sitting beside you, glanced over. his eyes darted to your phone, then back to your face. "who’s that?" he asked. you shrugged, trying to play it off. "just jay. he’s funny."

jungwon hummed, eyes glued to the tv again, though you could see the way his jaw clenched. "funny, huh?" "yeah, we were just texting about today. nothing big." jungwon stayed silent after that, but you could feel the shift in the air. something was off. maybe it was the way he bristled every time you mentioned jay, or maybe it was how quiet he’d gotten all of a sudden. you brushed it off, your mind too busy replaying your day with jay. but if you had looked up, if you had paid attention, you would’ve seen the way jungwon was staring at you now—intense, almost predatory. his eyes weren’t on the tv anymore. they were fixed on you. and the way you smiled down at your phone, completely unaware, only seemed to fuel something deeper inside him. he didn't even blink. his expression was unreadable, but his gaze... it was burning. if only you had noticed. but you didn’t. you were too busy with jay, too caught up in the thrill of it all to feel the weight of jungwon’s stare.

a week had passed since then, and jungwon sat on the couch, leg bouncing restlessly, his eyes on the tv but not actually seeing anything. sunghoon and jake’s laughter filled the room, their voices like nails on a chalkboard as they kept making casual comments about you and jay. every joke, every stupid jab about how much jay liked you felt like a fucking knife twisting deeper in his chest. fuck, this is hell. he couldn’t take it. "bet jay’s got it bad for her," sunghoon’s voice cut through the air, making jungwon’s stomach twist, his blood boiling under his skin. his heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. all he could focus on was the heat rising in his chest, the way his skin felt too tight. he swallowed hard, trying to keep the rage from spilling out. “i’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered, standing up so fast the remote slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a thud. jake and sunghoon glanced up, surprised, but jungwon didn’t wait for a response. he stormed down the hallway, steps uneven, barely holding it together. when he reached the bathroom, he slammed the door hard enough to echo through the apartment. let them think he needed to cool off or whatever. but the bathroom wasn’t where he was headed. you were still at work. probably with jay. fucking jay. probably talking, laughing, maybe even flirting with him. jungwon’s chest tightened at the thought, his jealousy clawing at him. he couldn’t handle it. he needed a release, needed something to calm the fire burning inside him. so he went to your room.

his hand shook as he reached for the knob, pausing for a second to listen. jake and sunghoon were still laughing, still talking like nothing was wrong. he slipped into your room, closing the door quietly behind him. the second he stepped inside, your scent hit him—sweet, familiar, fucking intoxicating. it wrapped around him, choking him in the best and worst way possible. his chest ached, and for a second, he thought he might actually break. he leaned back against the door, sliding down to the floor, his head falling into his hands. he felt like he was losing his fucking mind. you. it was always you. his heart pounded painfully, each beat a reminder of how fucked up he felt. he could barely breathe, barely think, and yet, the need to be in here—in your space—overpowered everything else. the room was exactly how you left it—clothes scattered across the bed, your hoodie tossed over the chair. but jungwon’s eyes went straight to the shelf facing your bed. that fucking teddy bear.

it wasn’t small either—one of those carnival bears he’d won for you back then. it wasn’t huge, not one of those obnoxiously oversized ones, but big enough. bigger than a normal stuffed animal, definitely enough for you to… do what you did with it. it sat there, innocent to anyone else, untouched, like it hadn’t been moved in months. for anyone else, it was a forgotten toy, frozen in time. but to him? it was everything. it was the key to his obsession. he reached for it, his fingers brushing over the soft fur, his stomach twisting with a mix of guilt and desire. he sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the bear like it was the only thing keeping him sane. how the fuck did it get this bad? he hadn’t meant for things to spiral out of control, but now? now he was too far gone. for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the bear, knowing what he had hidden inside it. knowing the guilt that came with it. it wasn’t just a toy anymore. it was a reminder—of what he was, of everything he had become.

his fingers tightened around 'teddy' as memories hit him, one after the other, like a train barreling through his mind. pulling him deeper into the past. he could never forget that summer, the one after his first year of college. he had come back home, exhausted but fucking relieved to finally get a break from the chaos of school. the months away had been a blur, and honestly? he didn’t think much about you during all that time. you were just his stepsister—at least, that’s the bullshit he kept telling himself. he buried the memories of your pretty smile he grew fond of and how it made him feel, shoved them down deep, thinking that the distance would fix it, that it would kill whatever twisted thing was starting to grow inside him. maybe if he just stayed away long enough, it’d disappear. but when he came back that summer, everything shifted. again. he should’ve walked away, should’ve ignored it. but curiosity clawed at him, dragged him closer, until he was standing in the doorway, peeking inside. and what he saw? it fucked him up.

his breath hitched, heart slamming in his chest, pulse fucking skyrocketing as his eyes locked onto you. holy shit. you were on your bed, but it wasn’t just the sight of you lying there that stopped him cold. no, it was what you were doing. his stomach twisted as he realized what was happening—you were straddling the teddy bear. that bear. the one he’d won for you years ago. but this? this wasn’t innocent, not in the way you used to cuddle it when you were younger. this was different. this was fucking worse. you were grinding your pussy against it, hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. his breath hitched, his heart slamming in his chest as he watched you, lost in your own pleasure, completely unaware that he was watching. you were wearing nothing but an oversized shirt, the way your pussy rubbed against the soft fabric of the bear, slick and wet. the obscene sounds it made as you humped it—it was like watching some twisted fantasy come to life. except this was real. you were real. and you were right in front of him. you weren’t just humping it. you were fucking it, using it like it was the only thing that could get you off.

jesus fucking christ. his mind screamed at him to look away, to shut the door, to fucking forget this. but his body didn’t listen. eyes glued to you as you rocked your hips faster, he couldn’t stop watching the way your pussy moved, the way you were so lost in it. his throat went dry, hands shaking as he gripped the doorframe. he knew this was wrong. so fucking wrong. but he couldn’t stop. couldn’t fucking stop watching the way your hips moved, the way you were so lost in it. that darkness—the one he thought he had buried—was creeping back in, stronger than ever, twisting his insides, making his cock swell painfully in his pants. fuck. this wasn’t curiosity anymore. this was darker. more dangerous. you weren’t just the awkward teenager he once knew. you were a woman now—a fucking gorgeous woman—and you were doing things that set every buried desire inside him on fire. your movements grew more desperate, hips grinding harder, your hands gripping the bear’s fur tight as you moaned louder, your jaw going slack. jungwon’s chest heaved, his breath shallow as he watched, his own arousal throbbing, making it impossible to think straight.

shit. this wasn’t supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not for you. but no matter how hard he fought it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. jungwon’s mind was a whirlwind of guilt, shame, and overwhelming fucking lust. his cock strained in his pants, rock hard, body betraying him in the worst fucking way possible. he could barely breathe, barely fucking think. all he could do was watch as you came undone on that bear. he had tried to convince himself that going to college would kill this twisted attraction, that the distance would erase it. but standing there, watching you, he knew he was wrong. so fucking wrong. the obsession hadn’t disappeared. it had grown. it had festered and that night? it reignited something in him that he couldn’t control. from that night on, he was no longer the same. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. couldn’t get the image of you humping that bear out of his head. the sound of your moans, the sight of your pussy grinding against that fabric—it haunted him. consumed him. and he knew, watching from a distance wasn’t going to cut it anymore. that’s when the plan started. it didn’t take much. just a little manipulation, some subtle planning. you never noticed. you never did. the bear—the one you fucked so carelessly—became the perfect vessel for his sick curiosity.

he made a small incision in the back, right beneath the soft fur, where it wouldn’t be visible. he slid a tiny camera inside, adjusting the angle, hiding the lens so perfectly behind it's eyes, you would never know. you never did. and from that day forward, he watched you like he was fucking studying you. memorizing every detail. he knew what turned you on, what porn you watched when you thought you were alone, which boyfriends made you scream, which ones you hated and which ones left you wanting more. he saw and heard it all. every. single. moment. this wasn’t some passive hobby anymore. no, everything jungwon did was calculated. planned to perfection. he made sure he was always home, always there, watching. he never left anything to chance. he didn’t even look for a job—couldn’t risk being away for too long. he needed to be there, needed to make sure the camera was charged, that he didn’t miss a single second of you. he told himself it wasn’t obsession, that it was just curiosity. but deep down, he fucking knew better. this was something twisted. and jungwon had built his entire world around you without you ever realizing. he controlled everything. and no one—not even you—would ever figure it out. while you lived your life, thinking everything was normal, jungwon’s mind was always ten steps ahead, planning, thinking. how could he keep you in his grasp without you knowing?

and for years, it worked. you never noticed how he made sure to align his life with yours. how his schedule revolved around you. he made it look natural, casual, like he was just the laid-back stepbrother who didn’t care about shit. but the truth? it was so much darker than that. he knew everything. he snapped out of his memories, his eyes locking onto the bear again. that moment, that fucking night. it haunted him. the memory burned into his mind, twisting his insides like a sickness he couldn’t cure. he stood up, legs shaky, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. it had all started so small, hadn’t it? he had convinced himself it was innocent. just a way to keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe. that’s what he told himself when he planted the camera in the bear. back when he thought his feelings were still manageable. but that lie had crumbled a long time ago. now, he needed to be close to you in ways that twisted his stomach and filled him with guilt so deep it kept him up at night. jungwon carefully placed the camera back inside the bear, adjusting it until it was in the perfect position. his hands were steady, but inside, he was falling apart. he zipped it up, placing the bear back on the shelf, just like always. no matter how sick it made him, no matter how much he hated himself for this, he couldn’t stop. he needed this. he needed you in ways that fucking terrified him. your room—it was his sanctuary when you weren’t home. the one place he could feel close to you without the crushing weight of being caught. in here, he could pretend, just for a second, that he had a part of you that no one else could touch.

it was so fucked up, and he knew it. but it was like an addiction, a need he couldn’t fucking shake. the guilt gnawed at him, but the need was stronger.

his heart twisted as his mind drifted back to you and jay. what were you two doing right now? the thought of jay touching you, making you laugh, getting close to you in ways jungwon never could—it made him feel like he was going to fucking explode.

you’re just his stepsister. he repeated the thought like a mantra, but the words were hollow, meaningless. that’s what you were supposed to be. that was the role he was supposed to play. jungwon’s mind spiraled, pacing back and forth in your room, his footsteps soft but frantic. it was only a matter of time before jay would be here, touching you, fucking you. and what the fuck was he supposed to do then? sit by and watch through the hidden camera? watch you fall and get fucked by someone else again? probably. fuck. he needed to leave. if he stayed in here any longer, he didn’t know what he’d do. the temptation was already clawing at him, the urge to take something of yours, to steal a piece of you like he had done before. your panties, your scent—he’d stolen them, hid them away like trophies, jerked off to them countless times. but even that wasn’t enough anymore. not now. not with jay in the picture. jay was a fucking threat. jungwon couldn’t stand it, the way you smiled when you talked about him, how your face lit up when you mentioned his name. fuck that. jay was pulling you into a world where jungwon didn’t belong, where he couldn’t follow, and that scared the shit out of him. he was losing control, and it was driving him insane.

the watching, the sneaking, the careful fucking planning—it wasn’t enough anymore. it wasn’t keeping you close. you were slipping through his fingers, the thought of jay taking what was his, getting close to you in ways jungwon could never—fuck, it made him sick. he shot one last look at the bear, the silent witness to his obsession, then stormed out of your room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. his breath was ragged, chest heaving as he leaned against the wall in the hallway. his heart pounded in his chest, a constant reminder of just how fucked up this had become. he couldn’t keep living like this. the watching, the waiting, pretending it would all go away—that was bullshit, and he knew it. this obsession wasn’t something he could just bury anymore. it was eating him alive. one day, watching wouldn’t be enough. the waiting, the creeping around behind your back—it wouldn’t satisfy the darkness inside him. he wanted more. he needed more. and that day was coming sooner than he’d like to admit. jungwon pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaky, mind racing, but even as he stormed down the hall, his thoughts were a jumbled mess, each one more fucked than the last. you were his. you didn’t know it yet, but you were.

jungwon reentered the living room, his footsteps heavier than usual, the weight of the shit storm in his head pulling him down with every step. he tried to shake it off, tried to act normal, but it was like a fucking itch he couldn’t scratch. jake and sunghoon were still slouched on the couch, laughing at some inside joke, barely giving a shit about the movie playing in the background. jungwon forced a grin, slipping into the scene like nothing was wrong. like he wasn’t on the verge of snapping. “what do you think, jungwon?” sunghoon’s voice had that edge to it, like he knew exactly what buttons to push. he always did. “you think jay’s the type to take her home, make breakfast the next morning? maybe throw in some flowers too?”

of course, they were still fucking talking about you. they just couldn't help themselves. jungwon’s chest tightened, but he let out a forced laugh, “yeah, he seems like that kind of guy from what she tells me. real gentleman.” the words felt like they were choking him. he could barely get them out. jake snickered, shaking his head like it was all a fucking joke. “well, at least she picked a decent guy this time.” jungwon’s fingers twitched, every part of him screaming to shut this conversation down, but sunghoon leaned back, smirking like the asshole he was. “please. nice guys like jay? they’re hiding something. i bet he’s got some skeletons in the closet.” jungwon clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. “let her have her fun,” he muttered, his voice tight. “she’ll tell us all about it when she gets back.” his throat burned. “anyway,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound disinterested, like the image of you and jay wasn’t tearing him apart, “fuck this, this movie’s boring as hell.” he grabbed the remote, flipping through channels without even paying attention, just needing something—anything—to drown out the thoughts in his head.

jake and sunghoon didn’t argue, their attention shifting to the tv. but jungwon wasn’t watching. he couldn’t. his mind was far from the room, far from the flashing screen in front of him. his fingers tightened around the remote, knuckles going white, but he didn’t even notice. he hated jay. hated him with every fiber of his being. not because jay was bad. no, that would’ve been easier to deal with. jay wasn’t bad. jay was good. too fucking good. the kind of guy who could give you everything, who’d make you feel safe, who’d make you happy in ways jungwon knew he never could. jungwon hadn’t met him yet, didn’t need to. the way you looked when you talked about him, the way your eyes lit up—that told him everything. jay wasn’t just some guy. he was the kind of threat that jungwon couldn’t fight with fists or anger. jay was the real fucking deal. and if it came down to it—if it came down to losing you completely? jungwon didn’t give a shit about jay. fuck jay. he’d do whatever it fucking took to keep you his.

jungwon had changed, and jake and sunghoon noticed. how could they not? he was more agitated, easily irritated, barely said a word. he wasn’t the jungwon they were used to—the one who laughed at their dumb jokes, who was always cheerful in his own quiet way. now, he was distant, like he had a constant storm brewing under the surface. and they tried asking him what the fuck was going on, throwing out questions like breadcrumbs, but they knew better than to push too hard. jungwon didn’t like to share shit, especially when it came to whatever was messing with his head. they tried though, casually bringing up the girl jungwon had been seeing. when they asked if it was about her, his response was clipped, a warning wrapped in frustration. “it’s not about her. drop it,” he snapped, and they did. they loved him enough to not push. instead, they did what they could. they showed up, more often than usual, hanging around the flat as much as possible. not enough to make it obvious that they were worried, but enough to remind him they were there. jungwon didn’t tell them to fuck off, which said a lot. normally, when jungwon was fine, he didn’t need their company���he’d barely ask for it. but now? he tolerated it, and that meant he needed them, even if he’d never admit it. the flat buzzed with the usual noise—jake and sunghoon arguing over takeout, the tv humming in the background—but jungwon felt none of it. all he could think about was you, and how the fuck you weren’t home yet. “die hard never gets old,” jake waved his pizza slice like it was some declaration worth fighting over. “perfect movie for a night like this." sunghoon rolled his eyes, slumping further into the couch. “bro, we’ve watched that shit like a hundred times. can we please pick something without bruce fucking willis?” jungwon’s grip tightened on the remote, fingers pressing way too hard into the buttons as he scrolled through movie options, but he wasn’t seeing any of it. his thoughts were on you, and where the hell you were.

“so, is y/n out with her new bestie jay again?” jake asked, grinning as he exaggerated the air quotes around bestie. “she’s been spending a lot of time with him lately, huh?” yeah, jungwon thought bitterly. too much fucking time. “probably,” jungwon muttered, his eyes glued to the tv, even though nothing on the screen registered. his jaw was tight, teeth clenched to the point it felt like one would crack. “they’ve been working on a lot of projects together.” “projects, huh?” sunghoon snorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. “sounds like he’s working on more than just projects.” jake laughed, nudging jungwon with his elbow like this was all one big fucking joke. “yeah, come on, man. you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how close they’re getting.” jungwon wanted to punch the grin right off his face, but he forced out a dry, humorless laugh instead. “it’s just work,” he said, voice tight, strained, like he was choking on the words. “she’s focused on her career.”

he wanted them to shut the fuck up. every word out of their mouths felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping against the frayed edges of his control. jake and sunghoon never knew when to quit, always teasing, always pushing. and the more they talked about you and jay, the darker his thoughts got. jake smirked, leaning back like he wasn’t stirring shit. “focused on work? nah, she’s focused on him,” he teased, tossing his pizza crust aside. “i’ve seen the way she smiles when she talks about him. it’s different, bro. you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” of course, i’ve fucking noticed. jungwon thought, his insides twisting, but he couldn’t say that. couldn’t admit how much it was killing him. “she’s just happy, okay?” jungwon snapped, the words coming out sharper than he intended. his frustration bled through, cracking the mask he’d been holding up. as soon as the words were out, he regretted them. sunghoon raised an eyebrow at jungwon’s outburst. “damn, man, relax. we’re just messing with you.” jake and sunghoon exchanged a glance—one of those silent, knowing looks that meant they were both thinking the same thing. “dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” jake finally asked, leaning forward on the couch, his eyes narrowing at jungwon. there was no bite in his tone, just concern. sunghoon, who had been lounging with his feet kicked up, straightened in his seat, nodding in agreement. “yeah, man. is something going on?” jungwon sighed, his grip on the remote loosening as he tried to shake off the weight sitting heavy on his chest. he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t even know how to—but he could feel their eyes on him, waiting, and for once, he couldn’t just brush it off.

“nothing’s wrong,” he muttered, voice flat, forcing a smile that felt like it could crack his face. “just been tired, you know?” “bullshit,” jake said, calling him out instantly, his eyes narrowing further. “come on, don’t pull that tired card again. we’re not idiots. what’s really going on?” jungwon let out a long, shaky breath, trying to play it off, but it was like a dam about to break. his fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly as he avoided their stares. “it’s nothing,” he repeated, quieter this time, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. and then sunghoon said it. the thing. “is this about jay?” it was like someone had punched him in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. his jaw clenched so hard he thought it might snap. jake and sunghoon didn’t say anything for a moment, but that silence said everything.

jake and sunghoon exchanged another look, this time laced with humor—light, teasing. they understood what this was about, but in their usual fashion, they weren’t about to get too serious. “so... you’re jealous,” jake said, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “yeah,” sunghoon added, “you’re scared jay’s gonna steal her away from you.” jungwon’s lips twitched into a half-hearted smile despite himself. steal her away from me. they made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t this all-consuming thing eating at him day and night. but hearing it put like that, it almost made him feel better. “oh, please,” jake smirked, leaning back into the couch, “as if jay stands a chance when sunghoon and i are here.” sunghoon barked out a laugh, nodding. “exactly. y/n’s just wasting time with him until she realizes we’re the real deal.” “you’re both idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head, but there was a small, genuine smile pulling at his lips now. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to ground him. “so?” jake started, his grin widening, “you want us to sweep y/n off her feet? we could totally make it happen. bet she’d love to be spoiled by us.”

jungwon’s expression darkened for a second, but he played it off with a smirk. hiding how much it really fucked him up inside. “yeah? go ahead. i’d rather you two fuck her than let jay get his hands on her.” the room fell into dead silence. jake and sunghoon both froze, staring at jungwon like he’d just said the most unhinged shit they’d ever heard. their eyes went wide, exchanging glances like they weren’t sure if he was fucking serious or just fucking around. “what the fuck, dude?” jake raised an eyebrow, laughing awkwardly but still trying to figure out if jungwon was for real. “you can’t be serious.”

sunghoon looked just as thrown off, his brows furrowing like he wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. “yeah, man, that’s... kind of fucked up.” jungwon just chuckled lowly, leaning back against the couch, acting like it didn’t bother him. “what? you guys haven’t thought about it? with all the shit you say about her?” his eyes flicked between them, sharp, like he was daring them to admit something. jake and sunghoon shifted, clearly uncomfortable, glancing at each other for a second too long. and that was all jungwon needed to know. “come on,” jungwon pressed, narrowing his eyes, “you’re telling me you’ve never thought about fucking her?” sunghoon cleared his throat, his eyes darting away, and jake rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking anywhere but at jungwon. “well, i mean... we’ve joked about it,” jake finally muttered, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “but we never... you know, took it seriously. she’s your sister, dude.” jungwon laughed, but there was no humor in it. “right.” “yeah, we never actually meant we’d... you know,” sunghoon added, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

jungwon’s smirk stayed plastered on his face, but his eyes were dark, and they both knew they’d crossed into territory that felt too fucking dangerous. but jungwon couldn’t stop pushing it. he needed them to feel as fucking uncomfortable as he did. maybe then they'd keep their mouths shut, and for the love of god try not to mention jay. “relax,” he muttered, leaning back again, trying to appear calm. “i know you’re just talk. probably couldn’t handle her anyway.” jake forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it came out shaky. “yeah, well, maybe she’d eat us alive. guess we’ll never know.”

“yeah,” sunghoon chimed in, trying to keep things from spiraling further, “we’ll leave y/n to the real men, huh?” he gave his friends a half-hearted grin, pretending like their banter had actually lifted his mood. but as the conversation moved on, their laughter filling the room, jungwon stayed silent, his mind spiraling back to the same thought that had been plaguing him for weeks. he just wanted you home. and no amount of jokes or cocky smiles could change that. as he stared at the TV, barely registering the movie playing in front of him, he missed the quick look between jake and sunghoon—a brief exchange of glances, almost like a shared secret. it went unnoticed by jungwon, buried beneath his own frustration, his jealousy too loud to hear anything else.

the frustration still buzzed under your skin as you leaned against jay’s car, the harsh fluorescent lights in the parking lot flickering overhead like they were mocking your mood. today had been a fucking disaster, all because your boss had to lose his shit over something as stupid as a font. “can you believe that prick?” you huffed, running your fingers through your hair, still feeling the burn of irritation. “who the fuck cares about a font?” jay chuckled, but you caught the edge in his eyes, the same frustration simmering beneath that calm, easygoing mask he always wore. “yeah, the man’s got a real talent for missing the point,” he muttered, arms crossed, leaning back against his car like he wasn’t two seconds away from snapping himself.

he always had this way of looking like everything was under control, even when you both wanted to set the office on fire. “but fuck it, we crushed it. and honestly? he can go fuck himself.” you let out a sharp laugh, tension easing off your shoulders just a little. jay always had that effect, making the shittiest days feel like they weren’t so bad when he was around. and even though you could tell he was just as pissed, he never let it show. it was... comforting, somehow. god, he’s good, you thought, watching the way he managed to keep his cool when you were one bad comment away from throwing your laptop across the room. “you’re better than me,” you said, your voice softening without meaning to. “i would’ve lost it in there.” he shrugged, giving you a small, crooked smile. “just trying to keep the peace. doesn’t mean i’m not pissed.” his eyes flicked to yours, something darker in his gaze before he pushed off the car, a subtle shift in the air. you glanced at your watch, realizing how late it was. fuck. jungwon was probably at home by now, waiting for you. the thought brought a flicker of guilt to your chest, but before you could get too lost in it, jay’s voice cut through your thoughts. “hey,” he said, voice casual, but with an edge of something more. “wanna grab a drink? we deserve it after today.”

you blinked, a little caught off guard. “you sure? it’s late, and i didn’t peg you as the greasy takeout and beer type.” jay grinned, that playful spark lighting up his eyes. “who said anything about greasy? i know a spot. nothing too fancy, just... chill.” you raised a brow, skeptical. “knowing you, ‘chill’ could mean anything. i’m half-expecting a place that charges for air.” he laughed, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping a bit. “trust me. you’ll like it.” you hesitated for a second, but fuck it—you could use a drink. after the shitshow of a day you’d had, spending more time with jay wasn’t exactly a bad idea either. you slid into his car, the leather cool against your skin as you let out a tired sigh. jay kept things light, cracking jokes that had you laughing and forgetting why you were so pissed in the first place. he had that way about him, making everything feel easier, like nothing was a big deal when you were with him. when you pulled up to the restaurant, your jaw almost hit the floor. “chaconne?” you half-laughed, staring at the chandeliers, the valet parking, and people walking in wearing designer shit like it was a casual tuesday. “you said ‘pretty chill,’ not... this.” jay smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “it’s not that bad. come on.”

you smacked his arm lightly as you stepped out of the car, rolling your eyes. “i would’ve been fine with some dive bar and burgers, you know.” he laughed, guiding you inside. “yeah, but you deserve more than that. trust me.” and, there it was again—something about the way he said that, the way he looked at you. it wasn’t just friendly anymore. it felt... intentional. the second you stepped inside, the low hum of conversation and soft glow of chandeliers wrapped around you. this place was fancy, no doubt, and you felt a little out of place in your office attire. but jay? he looked like he belonged here, pulling out a chair for you with a smoothness that made your stomach flip. “this is too much,” you muttered, sitting down. “do they charge by chandelier?” jay chuckled, sitting across from you, and for a second, something in his eyes softened in a way that made your chest tighten. “seriously, stop. you deserve it. this is my treat.” you tried to shake off the warmth spreading through you, but it was hard to ignore. jay had always been sweet, always thoughtful, but tonight? there was something different in the way he looked at you. something heavier. the banter flowed easily as it always did, jokes and sarcasm bouncing between you two like normal, but every time his knee brushed yours under the table, whether it was on purpose or not, you felt it. every glance, every smile, felt like a little spark that you weren’t sure what to do with.

it wasn’t just the food or the wine—it was him. the way he leaned in just a little closer when he talked, this wasn’t the usual flirtation you were used to with him. this felt... deliberate. and as you sipped your wine, pretending not to notice the way jay’s eyes flicked down to your lips, you couldn’t help but wonder where the night was heading. “what?” you asked, catching him watching you again as you set your glass down, trying to keep your voice steady. jay leaned back in his chair, that familiar cocky smirk on his lips. “nothing,” he said, voice low, teasing. “just thinking... this might be the best idea i’ve had all week.” you raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “taking me to an overpriced restaurant? yeah, real genius.” he chuckled, his eyes darkening just a little. “no... spending more time with you.” “are you flirting with me?” you teased, trying to keep it light, but your voice was softer now, your pulse picking up. jay’s lips twitched, and for a second, his eyes dropped to your lips again before snapping back up. “maybe i am.”

you swallowed, the tension between you both thick enough to cut. “and here i thought you were a gentleman,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper now. his smirk deepened. “i am,” he murmured, leaning in just a little more. “but you’re making it hard to stay one.” the heat in your chest spread lower, and you shifted in your seat, trying to stay composed. “well, then maybe you should stop teasing.” jay’s gaze flickered to your lips again, his voice dropping even lower. “maybe i don’t want to.” the conversation flowed easily all night, a smooth back-and-forth, laughter filling the space between you and jay as the wine worked its magic, loosening the edge that had been hanging over you both. you talked about everything—your turn-offs, shitty relationships, future plans—stuff you wouldn’t usually share with anyone. but with jay? it was easy. too easy.

“i was such a troublemaker back in the day,” jay confessed, laughing as he played with the rim of his wine glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the smooth surface. “got myself into some crazy shit before i finally realized i had to get my act together.” you leaned in, grinning at him, already intrigued. “oh yeah? what happened? what made jay park, the legend, finally decide to get his shit together?” he smirked, his eyes glinting with something darker, something playful as he met your gaze head-on. “had to step up. couldn’t be a a kid forever, right?” you cocked your head to the side, teasing. “so, what? you’re a responsible troublemaker now?” jay chuckled, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as his gaze lingered on you. “something like that.” you could feel the wine starting to hit, your cheeks flushed, your body a little warmer than before, and you knew he’d noticed too. his eyes kept flicking over your face, taking in the flush on your skin under the dim light of the restaurant, like he was seeing you differently tonight. “so,” you started, leaning forward just a little, a playful glint in your eye. “how much do you actually make, mr. responsible troublemaker?”

he didn’t answer right away, and you saw that smirk of his slowly curl back onto his lips. it was a power move, a playful one that had you shifting in your seat, wondering how long he was gonna drag this out. he finally looked up, tapping his finger against his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “hmm, let me think…” you rolled your eyes, laughing lightly as you leaned back, trying to keep it casual. “come on, don’t edge me like that.” jay’s eyes flashed with something darker for just a split second, but he quickly covered it with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at you. “edging you? didn’t know i was doing anything special.” the heat in your face rose, but you didn’t back down. the tension between you was thick, a game you weren’t sure you could win, but fuck it—you were in too deep now. “yeah, well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it,” you say suggestively. jay’s smirk widened, his gaze sharpening as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “am i now? didn’t realize you were so impatient.” you crossed your legs under the table, hoping he didn’t notice how tightly your thighs pressed together at his words, at the way your body was reacting to every little thing he was saying.

“i’m not impatient,” you replied, your voice a little breathier than you intended. “just curious. you’ve been holding out on me all night.” his gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, almost too fast to catch, but it was enough to send your stomach flipping. he leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower, his words wrapping around you like a caress. “maybe i’m just enjoying watching you squirm.” the way he looked at you—like he wanted to eat you alive, like he was holding back on purpose—it took everything in you not to lose your composure completely. “careful,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a challenge. “you might regret teasing me.” jay leaned back in his chair, still relaxed, still in control, but the air between you was charged, heavy with something neither of you could ignore. “i doubt i’d regret it,” he said, his smile too knowing, too cocky. “besides, you look good when you’re flustered.” you swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool, but the way his words slid into the space between you made it impossible to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach.

he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “you’re trouble, park,” you muttered, though your words lacked any real bite. truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. not even close. jay grinned, his eyes glinting with that same playful, almost dangerous edge as he took another sip of his wine. “you have no idea.” jay was still being a gentleman—technically, he wasn’t crossing any lines—but the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, it was enough to leave your pussy throbbing under the table. by the time the night ended, and jay walked you out, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. and as you glanced up at him, catching the way his eyes lingered on yours, you knew you weren’t the only one feeling it.

you both stumbled up the stairs, giggles slipping out of you as jay’s hand stayed firmly on your back, warm and steady. no elevators, just endless steps, and the alcohol running through your veins made everything seem a little funnier than it should have been.

“god,” you slurred through your laughter, grabbing jay’s arm to steady yourself. “you’d think after living here for years, i’d be used to this.” jay chuckled despite the mess of the night. “you’ve survived this long. i think you’ll make it.” when your apartment finally came into view, you reached for your keys, but the loud shouts and bursts of laughter hit you first. you groaned, already knowing exactly who it was. “shit,” you sighed, leaning into jay with a grin that felt more playful than exasperated. “jake and sunghoon are here. they’re probably playing that stupid horror game again.” jay raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “you didn’t mention they’d be here.” you shrugged, pushing the door open a little. “they’re harmless. might as well introduce you before they scare you off.”

quietly, you pushed the door open, jay trailing behind. the scene inside was chaotic—snacks scattered, empty cans thrown all over the place, the three boys huddled around the screen, completely lost in the game. jake and sunghoon were yelling, clearly losing, while jungwon sat in the middle, eyes glued to the screen, fingers gripping the controller so tight his knuckles turned white. his jaw was locked, brows furrowed in concentration. but the second his eyes flicked over to you, his grip tightened even more, and his pulse quickened as he took in the sight of your flushed cheeks, the tipsy smile that played on your lips. you looked fucking gorgeous. “heyyy,” you giggled, stepping fully inside and waving dramatically at the guys. jake turned first, his grin wide and teasing as soon as he saw you. “oh, look who’s back,” jake said, leaning back against the couch, voice dripping with amusement. “knew you’d be tipsy by now.” sunghoon glanced over, laughing as well. “you look like you had one hell of a time.” you pushed the door open wider, and that’s when all their attention shifted to jay standing behind you. jungwon felt his stomach drop, a cold knot forming in his chest. he didn’t need you to introduce him. he knew exactly who this guy was. jay. with a smooth smile, jay raised a hand in greeting. “hey, nice to meet you guys.”

jake and sunghoon exchanged quick, surprised glances, their tipsy minds catching up slower than usual. but they jumped up to greet him anyway, stumbling over themselves. “hey, man!” jake practically shouted, extending his hand for a firm handshake. “nice to meet you.” sunghoon followed right after, shaking his head with a grin. “yeah, didn’t know y/n had friends outside of work,” he teased, shaking jay’s hand too. but jungwon? he was slower. more deliberate. his eyes stayed glued to you, even as he stood up, forcing himself to extend a hand to jay. his mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. this was the guy. “nice to finally meet you,” jungwon said, his voice tight, the grip of his handshake firmer than it needed to be. “she wouldn’t shut up about you.” there was a sharp edge to his words, but jay didn’t seem to catch it. he just laughed, throwing a glance in your direction. “oh yeah? she talks about me?” jungwon forced a smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, mostly about how fucking loaded you are.”

your face flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly nudged jungwon’s side, laughing awkwardly. “he’s exaggerating,” you muttered. “i didn’t say that much.” jay chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “don’t worry. i’m flattered.” he was too smooth. way too smooth. and the way you lit up every time he spoke? it was obvious. jay really wasn’t just some guy. all the anxiety he felt, made sense. he wasn't overthinking it, he wasn't being paranoid. jay was a bigger problem than he thought. jungwon sat back down on the couch, fists clenched in his lap as jake and sunghoon dragged jay over, introducing him to the mess of their night. but jungwon couldn’t focus on their chatter, or the chaos of the room. all he could see was you. standing there, flushed, tipsy, looking too fucking good for your own good.

you sat beside jungwon, wrapping your arms around him in a playful hug like you always did. “this is jungwon,” you said, smiling up at him with that same affection. “my brother.” brother. right. jungwon forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. if it were just the two of you, he’d be teasing you right now, making fun of how tipsy you were, how clingy you got when you were drunk. but with jay watching, he had to play it cool. had to pretend like everything was fine. “yeah,” jungwon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “she talks about you all the time. couldn’t get her to shut up about how great you are.” jay smiled, unfazed, clearly amused by the whole thing. “well, i’ll take that as a compliment.” you groaned, swatting at jungwon’s arm. “why do you have to make it weird, won?” but jungwon barely heard you. his eyes were glued to you—the way your shirt had come undone, your hair a mess from the night out, your skirt riding up just a little too high. you looked like a fucking dream. and jay was seeing it, too. he could tell by the way jay’s eyes lingered on you, by the subtle shift in his smile.

jungwon’s fists tightened in his lap, and for a split second, he thought about saying something, anything to get you away from jay. but he didn’t. instead, he sat back, pretending like he didn’t care, like he always did. the conversation flowed around him, jake and sunghoon going back and forth with jay, throwing questions at him about work, life, plans—shit jungwon couldn’t give a fuck about. every now and then, he’d force himself to chime in, all for the sake of keeping up appearances. “so, jay,” jake asked, leaning in like they were old friends, a grin plastered across his face, “any big plans after this project with y/n?” jay shrugged, his eyes flicking toward you for a second, and the way his gaze softened made jungwon want to punch something. “we’ve got a few more campaigns lined up, keeping us busy, but we’re handling it. y/n’s been great to work with.” of course you’ve been great. “yeah, she’s an asset,” he muttered, the words sharp and bitter. you shot jay a warm smile, and the look in your eyes, that soft admiration, twisted the knife deeper. “he’s just being modest,” you said, your voice quiet but full of gratitude. “i’ve learned a lot from him.” jungwon couldn’t fucking stand it. the way you looked at jay like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was something special.

the conversation dragged on for a few more minutes, jay playing the perfect gentleman, but all jungwon could focus on was the way you seemed to gravitate toward him, like the room wasn’t big enough to keep the distance. then, you glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “shit,” you muttered, standing up a little too quickly, swaying on your feet, tipsy from the wine. “i should probably go to bed.” jay was on his feet instantly, his hand on your arm, steadying you before you could even stumble. “you okay?” “yeah, just… tipsy,” you laughed, brushing it off like it was nothing. but jungwon saw it. the way jay looked at you, warm. protective. everything jungwon wanted to be for you. jungwon stayed silent as he watched you lean into jay, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. every time you smiled at him, every time you let yourself get a little too close, jungwon felt his patience wearing thin. “i’ll walk you to your room,” jay offered, his voice soft, like it was some grand fucking gesture. and you, tipsy and flustered, nodded, grateful.

jungwon didn’t say a word. he stood there, stiff, watching as you and jay made your way toward the hall. every part of him screamed to do something, to stop you, to pull you away from jay and tell you to stay. to tell you that it should’ve been him walking you to your room, not jay. but he didn’t. he just forced a small, tight smile, pretending like he wasn’t falling apart inside as he watched you leave with someone else. “she’s in good hands, man,” sunghoon said after a beat, breaking the silence, giving jungwon a look that was far too knowing for his liking. “jay seems solid.” “yeah,” jungwon muttered, his voice barely audible, barely able to form the words. “i’m sure she is.” but deep down, all he could think about was how badly he wished it was him. he wanted to be the one you trusted, the one you leaned on when you were tipsy and unsteady. the one you turned to when you needed someone. the one you chose.

as jay walked you down the hallway, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you could feel the warmth of his touch seeping through your skin, making your body hum under his fingers. everything around you feeling lighter, easier, thanks to the alcohol still buzzing in your system. “first time getting walked to my damn room,” you mumbled, a grin pulling at your lips. “so... proper.” jay chuckled, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “someone’s gotta make sure you get there in one piece,” he teased, his hand lingering on your back, staying there a little longer than necessary. you rolled your eyes, stumbling slightly as you caught yourself with his help, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “oh, please. i’ve lived here forever. pretty sure i could find my way blindfolded.” jay smirked, steadying you with that familiar, calm touch, leaning in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you sure about that? i'm pretty sure you almost face-planted into that wall.” you laughed, swatting at his chest, “okay, maybe i’m a little more drunk than i thought.” the laughter faded as you both reached your door, the air between you thickening, tension slowly building. jay’s hand slipped away from your back, but his eyes stayed glued to yours. he took a step back, just enough to let the moment breathe, but you could still feel him, that pull between you two impossible to ignore. “you good?” he asked softly, his voice losing some of the teasing, dropping into something more intimate, more real. you nodded, biting your lip as warmth spread through your chest, not just from the wine, but from the way he was looking at you. “yeah... thanks for tonight. i had a good time.”

jay smiled, his gaze flicking down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again. “me too,” he murmured, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret with you. “i’m glad we did this.” you swallowed, the weight of the moment settling in your chest, and then—your tipsy brain decided to cut through the tension. “okay, mister proper,” you teased, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended, “this is where you leave me.” jay ran a hand through his hair, stepping back a little, but his eyes never left yours. “right. wouldn’t want to ruin my perfect gentleman streak.” you laughed, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere. “goodnight, jay.” “goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, and with one last look, he turned and started walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, heart still racing in your chest. you watched him go, and just as he reached the corner, something inside you stirred—nerves, excitement, you weren’t sure—but before you could stop yourself, you called out, “wait, jay?” he stopped, turning back to you, that easy smile tugging at his lips again. “yeah?” you hesitated, the wine still making you a little bolder than usual. “you’re not just leaving like that, are you?” jay raised an eyebrow, his smile turning more playful, more curious. “what, you miss me already?” you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. “maybe,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe, trying to keep it light, “just wasn’t expecting you to... leave so fast.”

jay started making his way back toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes locked on yours as he stopped just a few steps away. “well, you did say ‘goodnight,’” he pointed out, his smirk still there, confident and infuriating. you bit your lip, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness, but you pushed through it, “yeah, but i didn’t mean, like, leave-leave.” your voice trailed off slightly as you glanced down, heat rising in your cheeks. “i just... i really had fun tonight. thanks for... everything.” jay took another step closer, his voice dropping even lower, that same calm, comforting tone. “it was my pleasure. i had a great time too, y/n. honestly.” you looked up at him, and there it was again—that feeling. the butterflies in your stomach, the way he was standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “so...” you started, your voice a little shaky, “i guess, uh... i’ll see you tomorrow?” jay inhaled deeply, his smile still there but a little more restrained. “yeah,” he said softly, “i’ll see you tomorrow.” for a second, you were sure he might lean in, that the night was about to take a different turn. but then jay stepped back, just enough to let the moment hang in the air, unresolved. “we’ll leave it at that... for now.” then, without another word, he turned, walking down the hallway with a quiet confidence that left you breathless. he didn’t look back, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, mind spinning. leave it at that, for now. the words replayed in your mind, a promise, a pause in the inevitable. it left you wondering—not if—but when something more might happen.

the sound of the front door closing echoed through the quiet apartment, sealing the night behind you. faint murmurs of jay saying his goodbyes to the boys lingered, but they felt distant, drowned out by the racing pulse in your chest. once you made it to your room, the door clicking shut behind you, you exhaled a long breath, one you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto for so long. everything from the evening hung in the air—every glance, every word exchanged between you and jay, replaying in your mind like a highlight reel. “oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, feeling the heat rise to your face as a smile broke across your lips. and then, without warning, a giggle slipped out. you tried covering your mouth with your hands, but it was no use—the excitement bubbling up inside you couldn’t be contained.

before you knew it, another laugh escaped, louder this time, and suddenly you were bouncing on your bed, your body moving purely from the rush of joy flooding your veins. jay liked you. or at the very least, there was something there, something undeniable. the realization hit you all at once, and it sent another wave of excitement straight through you. you collapsed onto your bed, sinking into the pillows with a grin you couldn’t wipe away if you tried. “what the hell just happened?” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling, still in disbelief at how the night had played out. hugging a pillow to your chest, you giggled again, feeling the thrill of possibility wrapping around you like a blanket. everything about tonight felt different. special. like it was the start of something you weren’t ready to name, but you could feel it growing. rolling onto your side, you clutched the pillow tighter, another quiet laugh slipping out. “i can’t believe that just happened,” you mumbled, still grinning like you were in some sort of dream, your mind racing with the memory of jay’s lingering touches, the way he looked at you, the way his words felt like they held a secret just for you. as you lay there, thoughts kept drifting back to him—how easy it was being around him tonight, how much fun you had together, how different it felt from every other time you’d seen him at work. tonight was different, you could feel it. something between the two of you had changed, and you knew that tomorrow, things wouldn’t be the same.

jungwon sat slumped on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv, the images blurred together, meaningless noise in the background of his thoughts. jay had left a while ago, but the tension in jungwon’s chest hadn’t gone anywhere. he absentmindedly reached into a bag of stale chips, shoving another one in his mouth, but it tasted like cardboard. his mind was too busy replaying every interaction between you and jay, over and over, like some sick movie he couldn’t turn off. jake and sunghoon were still chatting, their voices fading as the night wore on. they’d been talking about marvel movies, but jungwon hadn’t really been listening. he felt like his brain was overheating. sunghoon stretched out lazily on the couch, his voice heavy with sleep. “so... jay. dude seems solid, huh? i don't think you should worry about y/n too much.” jake groaned, half-asleep already, tossing a pillow over his head. “he’s cool, but man, too tired for this shit. let’s talk tomorrow.” his words were muffled, barely coherent as he drifted closer to sleep. jungwon’s grip tightened on the chip bag, the plastic crinkling under his fingers. he wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, to stop talking about jay like it was no big deal. but he stayed quiet, shoving another tasteless chip in his mouth, chewing mechanically.

sunghoon, still awake, glanced over at jungwon with a lazy smirk. “but don’t you think it’s weird? like, he just shows up out of nowhere, and now he’s all over y/n?” the comment made jungwon’s stomach churn but he kept his mouth shut. he didn’t trust himself to speak without losing it. jake, half-conscious now, mumbled from under the pillow, “y/n’s a big girl. she knows what she’s doing. jay’s just a guy.” just a guy. jungwon swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing down the bile that was rising. he wanted to scream, to throw something, to do anything to stop feeling like this. “he’s not just some guy,” jungwon muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. he wasn’t even sure if sunghoon or jake had heard him. but sunghoon had. he turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at jungwon. “what was that?”

jungwon sighed, trying to play it off, forcing himself to sound casual. “nothing. just... hope he’s not wasting her time.” sunghoon yawned, stretching again, his eyelids heavy. “nah, y/n’s smart. she’ll figure it out.” jungwon glanced at jake, who had passed out completely, limbs sprawled out across the couch. sunghoon wasn’t far behind, his head nodding as sleep pulled him under. but jungwon couldn’t sleep. his mind wouldn’t shut off. with a deep sigh, jungwon stood up, tossing the half-empty chip bag onto the coffee table. the quiet hum of the fridge filled the flat as he made his way to the kitchen. he grabbed two beers, the cool metal of the cans grounding him, if only for a second. as he walked back toward his room, he passed by your door. he slowed down, his eyes lingering on it. were you still awake? were you thinking about jay right now? the thought made his chest tighten, but he forced himself to keep walking, pushing open the door to his own room. he dropped into his chair, cracking open the beer with a sharp hiss. he took a long swig, hoping the alcohol would numb the gnawing ache in his gut. he booted up his computer, needing a distraction, something to take his mind off everything. but the second the screen flickered to life, his stomach dropped.

there it was—the live feed from the camera he’d hidden in your room. his eyes locked onto the screen, guilt and shame flooding his body in an instant. but he doesn't look away. jungwon sat frozen, staring at the screen like it was some sort of punishment he couldn’t escape from. there you were, sitting on your bed, bathed in the soft glow of your bedside lamp, phone in hand, giggling quietly to yourself. you looked so fucking happy. too happy. your fingers moved quickly over the phone, typing, pausing now and then to laugh softly, lips curling into that familiar smile. the smile he knew wasn’t for him. jungwon took another long swig of his beer, trying to drown out the jealousy gnawing at him, but like everything else, it didn’t help. nothing ever did. he set the beer down, fingers curling into tight fists as he watched you. part of him wanted to slam the laptop shut but he needed to know who you were texting, though he could already guess it by now. his breath caught as you suddenly sat up, that same damn smile spreading across your face. the eagerness in your movements sent a wave of dread crashing over him.

what the fuck was happening? you stood in front of your mirror, fixing your hair, smoothing out your clothes. jungwon watched you, his grip on the mouse tightening. you hadn’t even been home an hour and you were already getting ready to talk to jay again? seriously? it was hard enough seeing you with jay earlier, but now—now you were about to do a video call, giggling like some lovesick teenager. you glanced at your phone, then plopped back onto your bed, adjusting yourself, fluffing your hair, making sure everything was just right. jungwon’s heart sank. he knew that look all too well. it was all for jay. he couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching as you picked up your phone again, smiling at whatever message popped up on the screen. then, through the speakers, he heard it—your voice. "miss me already?" you said, laughter filled the room, and jungwon felt his chest tighten.

of course. the beer can in his hand crumpled slightly under the pressure of his grip, but he didn’t care. every muscle in his body was wound tight, ready to snap. he listened, jaw clenched, as jay’s voice crackled through the speakers, muffled but clear enough to set jungwon’s blood boiling. “just got home,” jay’s voice said, casual, like none of this was fucking with jungwon’s head. “first time on a video call, huh? can’t believe we’ve never done this before.” your eyes sparkled as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, settling into the bed, completely unaware of the storm brewing in the next room. “yeah, kinda weird but fun,” you replied, your voice light, carefree. “guess there’s a first for everything.” the conversation between you and jay flowed easily, his voice seeping through the speakers like poison as you both planned to meet up again. jungwon could barely breathe as he listened to you suggest the weekend. “maybe we can do something... just us,” jay’s voice came through, warm and smooth.

just us. jay wasn’t just a passing interest. he was already staking his claim, like jungwon didn’t even exist. then you teased, your voice dropping to a playful tone, the kind you only used when you were comfortable with someone. “is it the alcohol, or are you actually obsessed with me, jay?” jay chuckled, his voice lower now, raspier. probably from exhaustion, probably because he was thinking about you. “oh, you caught me. totally obsessed. can’t stop thinking about you.” you bit your lip, a small smile playing on your lips. fuck, you were glowing. you were eating this shit up. “well, you do seem to be sticking around,” you teased, enjoying every second of it. jungwon’s stomach churned. he could see it all over your face—how much you were enjoying this. how much jay was getting under your skin, in ways that no one else ever had. then, you took it further. “if i’m so special, you’d break your gentlemanly streak.” jungwon could hear the playful edge in jay’s voice as he responded. “is this why you called? you wanted me to stay over, didn’t you?” your laugh was soft, but jungwon could see the way you bit your lip, see how flustered you were getting. “i don’t know. you tell me.” jungwon’s fist slammed down on the desk before he even realized it, the sharp thud breaking the moment. his entire body shook with the effort of holding back, his chest heaving as anger twisted inside him. the beer can crumpled completely in his hand, but he didn’t care. his focus was on you—on what was happening right in front of him.

this was worse than anything. worse than any of your exes. because with jay, it wasn’t just physical. jay was pulling you in, wrapping you around his fucking finger, and jungwon couldn’t do shit about it. your head snapped up at the sudden noise, your smile faltering as you glanced toward jungwon’s room. “what was that?” you asked, the unease creeping into your voice, pulling you out of the moment with jay. on the screen, jay raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his eyes. “everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, probing, like he could sense something was off. you forced a smile, waving it off, though the tension lingered in the air. “yeah, it’s fine,” you said, but the waver in your voice gave you away. you glanced back toward jungwon’s room, your brow furrowed. “i think it’s just jungwon.” jay’s concern deepened. “is he okay? maybe you should check on him.” you hesitated, torn between the conversation and the guilt tugging at you. was jungwon okay? the noise had been loud, and it wasn’t like him to react like that. what the hell was going on with him? you bit your lip, uncertainty creeping in. “he’s probably fine,” you muttered, trying to convince yourself as much as jay. “maybe he just dropped something.” but deep down, you weren’t sure. things had been off with jungwon lately—he’d been distant, quieter. and you had been caught up in other things, like work, like jay, barely noticing it.

jay’s voice cut through your thoughts. “are you sure? i don’t mind letting you go if you need to check on him.”

you shook your head, not wanting to break the mood between you two. “no, no... he’s probably just being his usual grumpy self.” but even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the unease. maybe jungwon was upset. maybe you had been neglecting him. you sighed, running a hand through your hair, wondering when things had gotten so complicated. “what’s wrong with him?” you muttered under your breath, glancing toward your door again. jay tried to lighten the mood, his voice warm. “he’s probably just jealous. i mean, if i had a sister like you, i’d be protective too.” you laughed, though it sounded hollow. “yeah, he’s always been that way,” you admitted, though the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. jay’s gaze softened, concern and affection mixing in his expression. “seriously, though. if he’s upset, you should talk to him.” you nodded, knowing jay was right, but not wanting to deal with it right now. the conversation between you and jay had been going so well, and you weren’t ready to let it go yet. “sorry to cockblock you,” you muttered with a grin, trying to shift the mood back to playful. jay’s laughter was immediate, warm and infectious, shaking off some of the tension. “oh, come on,” he said, still chuckling. “don’t apologize. i’m just glad you still think i’m a gentleman after all this.” his laugh made you smile despite yourself, and for a moment, the unease faded. you joined in, teasing him right back. “well, i did just ruin the moment.” jay wiped away a fake tear, grinning. “trust me,” he said, voice still playful, “there’s no ruining anything with you.”

an idea hit you, your eyes lighting up with mischief as you giggled, grabbing your phone. excitement bubbled inside as you scrolled through your gallery, your finger hovering over a certain photo. the smile on your face faltered for just a second. it wasn’t exactly a nude, but the picture of you in your baby blue lingerie set? yeah, it was definitely provocative. jay’s brow shot up when he noticed the hesitation. “what are you up to?” he asked, the playful tone lingering in his voice, teasing, almost challenging. you grinned, your lip tugging between your teeth. “it’s an apology,” you teased, before hitting send. your heart raced as you waited, watching his phone buzz. anticipation prickled up your spine, making your stomach flip in that giddy way.

when jay opened the message, his reaction was instant. he sat up straighter, his lips parting, eyes widening as they scanned the image. the moment it clicked, his teeth sunk into his lower lip, and you heard the faintest groan escape him. fuck, he looked sexy like that. “well, damn,” jay muttered, his voice a bit lower, his gaze flicking back to yours. “kind of regret leaving so soon now.” a wave of warmth spread through you, making your pulse race. leaning closer to the screen, you bit your lip, “so, still gonna be a gentleman, or am i that special?” jay’s grin spread wider, amusement glinting in his darkened eyes. “depends,” he murmured, his voice smooth, inviting, “how special do you think you are?” your confidence surged, and you shot back without missing a beat. “oh, i’d say i’m worth bending the rules for.”

jay’s chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, his gaze flicking back to the photo. “if you keep talking like that,” he said, voice dropping, “i just might.”

you were about to push further, to see just how far he’d go with this, but then you heard it again—a sound from the other side of the wall. jungwon. again. jay noticed immediately, his playful demeanor shifting to something more concerned. “still think he’s okay?” he asked, his tone soft but pointed. you sighed, glancing at your door. “i don’t know... maybe i should check on him.” jay nodded, his expression softening. “yeah, probably a good idea. we can pick this up later.” he smirked, and there was a glint in his eyes, a promise in his voice. “but next time,” he paused, leaning closer to the camera, “wear that same set when i take you out.”

you laughed softly, warmth still lingering in your chest even after the call ended. the teasing excitement from jay stayed with you, but now, there was something else brewing. a sense of worry, creeping in at the edges. jungwon. you stood, giggling softly as the room tilted slightly. damn, you were more tipsy than you realized, and it took a second to steady yourself against the wall. jay kept you grounded, kept your focus on him like no one else could. but now, without him on the line, everything felt off, unsettled. maybe that’s just what he did to you—pulled all your attention in, made you forget everything else, even forget about how much you used to think about jungwon. and now, without him, everything was crashing back in. stumbling slightly, you sighed, feeling the weight of your concern. jungwon. something wasn’t right, not with the way he’d been acting, not with the thud from earlier echoing in your mind. you couldn’t ignore it anymore. pushing yourself forward, you headed down the hallway, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the wine or jay. what the hell is going on with him?

as you approached jungwon’s door, the sound of your familiar footsteps made his heart race. panic surged through him, adrenaline kicking in. he could hear your clumsy shuffle outside, but his mind was too clouded to focus—his eyes glued to the live feed still open on his screen. fuck. his fingers scrambled across the keyboard, minimizing the window in a flash. his screen flickered back to the innocent desktop wallpaper just as the door swung open. you stumbled in, nearly tripping over yourself, that tipsy smile lighting up your face. “hey,” you slurred, gaze locking onto him. jungwon sat there, stiff as a board, looking like a deer caught in headlights. you noticed the way his eyes darted toward the screen before meeting yours again. something was definitely off. “you good?” you asked, voice soft but with genuine concern, even through your drunk haze. there was something about his posture, the awkward stiffness that made you pause. his screen showed nothing out of the ordinary—just a plain wallpaper. but the way he looked at you, like he’d been caught red-handed, made your drunk mind spin. the realization hit you, and a teasing grin spread across your face. “oh…” you mumbled, eyes widening in mock surprise. “were you…?” you trailed off, giggling as the most obvious explanation popped into your head.

was jungwon watching porn? jungwon’s heart pounded harder, realizing what you were thinking. the teasing look in your eyes, the way you bit your lip to hold back laughter—it was clear you had jumped to a conclusion. and letting you believe that? yeah, way better than the truth. in a split second, he made the decision. “yeah,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair, trying to act casual. “caught me.” your eyes blinked in surprise, not expecting him to admit it so easily. the teasing grin faltered for a moment, but then you laughed, stumbling a bit as you waved your hands in a sloppy apology. “oh shit—sorry!” you giggled, your voice light as you tried not to laugh too hard. “didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.”

jungwon forced a smirk, his insides churning, but his face stayed calm. “it’s fine,” he shrugged, playing it cool, even though his mind was still racing. you leaned against the doorframe, your drunken smile wide as you eyed him. something about the way he was sitting there—too still, too stiff—made you pause. but your hazy mind couldn’t hold onto the thought for long, quickly getting distracted by the warmth in your body and the lightness in your head. “well, don’t work too hard, alright?” you teased, throwing him a playful wink. jungwon cleared his throat, fumbling over his words in a weak attempt to seem casual. “yeah, uh… i just hit my knee on the table earlier. nothing big.” it was a pathetic excuse, and he knew it. but you were drunk, too drunk to notice how thinly veiled the lie was. you giggled, brushing it off. “really?” you laughed, stepping closer to him, your eyes gleaming with curiosity. “sounds like you were watching something good.”

but something shifted in his expression—his eyes darkened, the atmosphere thickening around you. you froze for a second, your drunken confidence faltering as you stopped just short of getting too close. “why’re you so curious all of a sudden?” jungwon’s voice had dropped lower, more serious, almost challenging. “wanna know what i’m into?” the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been. your breath hitched, the alcohol making it hard to process the meaning behind his words. and then it hit you. your heart raced as you blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze. “oh, come on,” you muttered nervously, laughing to shake off the tension. “don’t be weird. besides…” you trailed off, eyes sweeping over him in a way you hadn’t before, your tongue loose from the alcohol. “you’re already hot, you don’t need that stuff.” jungwon’s heart nearly stopped. hot? you’d called him hot? he stared at you, his brain short-circuiting, trying to process what you’d just said. he didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to do with the way his chest tightened at your casual compliment. you blinked, suddenly aware of what you’d let slip. “i mean—” you stammered, waving your hand as if to erase the awkwardness. “forget it. you should just get a girlfriend.” the words hit him harder than they should have. get a girlfriend. like it was that simple. like anyone could ever compare to you. his eyes lingered on you, the way your clothes were wrinkled from the day, how you stood there so oblivious to what you did to him.

how many times had he imagined you, like this, stumbling into his room, his bed, then fucking you in that exact outfit? he swallowed hard, the desire twisting painfully inside him as he forced a neutral expression. “yeah…” he mumbled, his voice barely steady. “maybe i should.” but you didn’t notice the turmoil behind his eyes. you were already pulling away, giggling softly as you pushed off the doorframe. “anyway, don’t stay up too late watching… whatever,” you teased, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. the door clicked shut behind you, and jungwon’s body slumped in his chair. his breath came out shaky, his chest tight with frustration. fuck, he wanted you. wanted you so bad it physically hurt. his eyes stayed glued to the door long after you’d left, the tension in his body refusing to dissipate. slowly, his gaze drifted back to the computer screen, his fingers twitching toward the mouse. the live feed was still there, minimized in the taskbar, waiting. he could feel the pull, the temptation to click it, to watch you again.

a frustrated groan slipped past his lips as he rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake the need out of his head. you were so fucking clueless. so damn unaware of the effect you had on him, how deeply you’d burrowed yourself into his mind.

just as he thought he might get a grip on himself, he heard it—your voice, slurred and cheerful, calling out from down the hallway. “i love ya!” you sang, your words soaked in alcohol and affection. jungwon froze. his heart twisted painfully in his chest as he heard your drunken giggle follow, light and carefree—the kind of laugh that used to make him smile. now it felt like someone twisting the knife deeper. his hands pressed against his eyes, trying to block out the sound, trying to ignore the way your words lingered in his head. “i love ya!”—like it didn’t mean anything. like it was just something you threw around casually. he knew it was the alcohol talking, knew you didn’t mean it. not in the way he wanted you to. and that made it worse. that fucking shattered him.

jungwon shot up from his chair like a bullet, his heart hammering against his chest, the rage swallowing him whole. his body trembled, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t keep the frustration bottled up. pacing back and forth, his muscles burned, stretched to their limit as he swung his arms wildly, desperate for some kind of release. every breath was shallow, sharp, as if he was trying to breathe through the suffocating pressure building inside him. but nothing was working. without thinking, he grabbed the closest thing in reach—a small figurine on his desk—and hurled it against the wall with a guttural shout. the sound of it shattering into pieces, scattering across the floor, barely registered in his mind. it did nothing to ease the tension coiling tighter, suffocating him. it wasn’t enough. nothing was enough.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" he snarled under his breath, dragging his hands through his hair, yanking hard at the strands in frustration. the sharp pain barely registered. his chest was heaving, the walls of his room closing in on him, making it harder to breathe. you were killing him. he couldn’t stop thinking about you—your stupid fucking smile, the way you looked at jay, the way you teased like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him. it was eating him alive. the urge to check the live feed clawed at his mind, gnawing at his last shreds of self-control. his body practically collapsed back into the chair, hands shaking as his fingers hovered over the mouse, ready to click, ready to see you again. but he couldn’t do it. couldn’t give in. with a growl of frustration, he slammed his fist down on the desk, the sharp sting shooting through his knuckles barely enough to register. the pain was a welcome distraction from the ache burning inside him. “why the fuck did you say that?” he whispered, voice cracking with resentment. “you don’t mean it. you don’t fucking mean it.”

the words tasted bitter on his tongue as he stared at the empty desktop, his breathing uneven, his pulse pounding in his ears. you’d called him hot like it was nothing, like it was just a throwaway comment, and yet, here he was—burning from the inside out, unraveling because of you. how many times had you stood in front of him, drunk and completely clueless, without realizing just how deeply you’d twisted him up inside? it was like you enjoyed torturing him, like you knew he was at your mercy and didn’t care. his hand twitched toward the nearby beer, his throat dry from the anger that kept simmering, boiling over. with a quick flick, he cracked it open, foam spilling over the edge as he downed half of it in one long gulp, desperate for something—anything—to numb the pain cutting into him. the bitter taste coated his mouth, his lips curling in disgust as he wiped them with the back of his hand. jay. it always came back to fucking jay. jungwon downed the rest of the beer, slamming the empty can onto the desk so hard the noise echoed through the room. his head dropped into his hands, shoulders trembling as the weight of it all crushed him, pressing down until he couldn’t take it anymore. “fuck.”

jay had slipped into your life so easily, it was almost hard to remember a time when he wasn’t around. he visited often now, seamlessly fitting into your friend group, and even got close with jake and sunghoon. it felt like he’d always been there, like he belonged. jungwon, though, had been a different story. after that night, after everything, he’d been distant for a while. but now? now, he sat right next to jay on the couch, controller in hand, eyes glued to the xbox screen like nothing had ever happened. he seemed fine—more than fine, actually. like he’d accepted everything, like he wasn’t even phased by the way jay had embedded himself into your world. tonight wasn’t any different. jay was over again, sitting in his usual spot, and everyone else was gathered in the living room too. the sound of the xbox filled the space, a low hum of explosions and gunfire. jake was sprawled on one couch, half-asleep with a soda can dangling from his hand, while sunghoon sat on the floor, shoving popcorn into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. you perched on the arm of the couch, watching jay and jungwon play another round of whatever shooting game they’d gotten into. it was almost funny—how easily they got along now, how the tension that once lingered between them had melted away. "we're crushing it," jay laughed, glancing at jungwon with a grin.

jungwon cracked a rare, genuine smile, his eyes still on the screen. "don’t get cocky," he muttered, smirking. "you only won 'cause i carried." jay nudged him with his elbow, his grin widening. “team effort, man.” you couldn’t help but smile, watching the way they bantered so naturally. jungwon, the one who usually kept his cool, had loosened up around jay in a way you hadn’t expected. maybe it was surprising how quickly they’d become friends, but it was a relief too. “you two make a good team,” you teased, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch, your voice light, trying to ignore the small tug of something in your chest. “yeah, guess i don’t mind him hanging around,” jungwon said, shaking his head with a small laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. jay shot you a teasing grin. “wow, jungwon actually tolerates me now. i must be doing something right.” jungwon rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his face made it clear he didn’t mind the teasing. “don’t get too comfortable.” jake, who had been half-listening, suddenly perked up, pointing lazily at the screen. “jungwon’s just mad 'cause jay’s better at the game now. remember the first time he played? total trash.” “not trash,” jay argued, raising his hands defensively. “just... learning.”

jungwon chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "yeah, yeah. let's see if you can hold your own in the next round." it was weird seeing jungwon like this—so relaxed, so easygoing. he was always the serious one, the one who kept things close to his chest. but around jay? it was like the walls he usually built around himself had crumbled. “so, when’s the next big project at work?” sunghoon asked between mouthfuls of popcorn. "you two have basically been glued to your desks." you laughed softly, shaking your head. “we’re almost done, thank god. then maybe we can actually hang out like normal people again.” jay smiled, his voice warm and casual. “yeah, maybe we can all do something. outside of work for a change.” jake grinned, tossing a pillow across the room at jay. “you gonna pay for dinner, rich boy?” jay caught the pillow, laughing. “guess i’m buying.” jungwon laughed too, shaking his head at the back-and-forth. "yeah, you owe us." for a second, everything felt perfect. like the puzzle pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. jay was here, a part of it all, and jungwon—jungwon had accepted it. accepted him. it should’ve been a relief, but something about the whole thing gnawed at you. jungwon’s shift in attitude, the way he seemed so... okay with everything. it was too sudden. too easy. but you shoved the thought aside. maybe it was nothing. maybe you were overthinking it. “all right, rematch?” jay suggested, glancing at jungwon with a playful smirk.

jungwon grabbed his controller again, eyes gleaming with determination. “let’s do it.” they dove back into the game, and as the laughter and playful insults filled the room, you sat back, content for the moment. but that small, nagging voice in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. jungwon’s sudden acceptance felt... off. like there was more under the surface, something he wasn’t saying. you shook the thought away, focusing on the present. jay and jungwon were getting along, and that was enough. for now. “hey,” jay’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the room. “you’re up next, right?” you grinned, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders for a moment. “oh, i’m definitely taking you down.” the room was filled with laughter again, and as the game continued, you tried to let yourself believe that this—right here—was how things were supposed to be. but somewhere deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all just a little too perfect.

you and jay were both at the office, the hum of workday chatter filling the background. jay sat beside you at the office like he belonged there. he was on his break, lazily fiddling with a rubik’s cube, his brow furrowed as if it took real concentration, but you could feel his eyes darting to you every few seconds. that signature smirk lingered on his lips, like he had something else on his mind. “you ever solve one of these?” jay asked, twisting the cube with a sharp click. you laughed softly, shaking your head. “nope, never had the patience.” just as you were about to send off an email, your phone buzzed against the desk. you glanced down at the screen. jake: hey y/n, we’re taking jungwon out for drinks tonight! your eyebrows shot up. jungwon? drinks? that wasn’t something that happened often. you tapped a quick reply, but the thought lingered, pulling at your attention. he wasn’t exactly the most social guy, especially when it came to drinking. curiosity piqued, you quickly typed back a response. “what’s up?” jay asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts. his eyes tracked your every move, fingers still idly playing with the cube. “just jake,” you said, leaning back in your chair, tapping the phone lightly against your thigh. “they’re taking jungwon out for drinks tonight. guess he’s warming up to being social.” jay smirked, tossing the rubik’s cube onto the desk and crossing his arms. “he’s been pretty chill lately, especially with me. didn’t think that’d happen.” “me neither,” you admitted, your gaze shifting fully to jay. “he’s always been kinda... closed off, but now it’s like he’s finally enjoying being around people. especially you.”

jay shrugged, though you could see the flicker of pride in his eyes. “guess i’m just that irresistible, huh?” you rolled your eyes, but smiled all the same. “yeah, sure, that must be it.” you leaned in closer, dropping your voice. “but seriously, it’s nice seeing him open up. he’s been through a lot, and seeing him happy... well, it makes me happy.” the conversation lulled for a moment, the office noise fading into the background. jay’s fingers drummed softly on the desk, and you could feel him thinking, like there was something on his mind he hadn’t said yet. “speaking of happy...” jay started, his voice quieter, more thoughtful now. “this might be... really bad timing, but i’ve been wanting to ask you something.” you raised an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly cautious. “oh? what’s up?”

he hesitated for a beat, his eyes locking with yours. gone was the teasing smirk, replaced with something more sincere, something that had your pulse picking up speed. “i was wondering...” jay leaned in just a little, the space between you two feeling more intimate, more personal. “would you wanna go out with me tonight? like... on a real date?” your heart did a quick somersault. jay had always been playful, teasing, but this? this was different. this was real—just him, asking you out with none of the usual jokes to hide behind. “an actual date?” you echoed, your voice soft as a smile began tugging at your lips. jay nodded, his fingers now absentmindedly tracing the edge of the desk, like he needed something to focus on besides your reaction. “yeah. i mean, we’ve hung out a lot, but i want to take you out properly. no more just hanging out at your place.” warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body as nerves fluttered in your stomach. jay had always made you feel comfortable, always been someone who could make you laugh, but now he was offering something more. something you hadn’t even realized you’d been waiting for.

“i’d like that,” you said softly, your smile growing wider. “yeah, i’d really like that.” jay’s entire expression lit up, the tension in his shoulders melting away as relief washed over him. “really?” “really,” you confirmed, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to build inside you. he let out a breath, grinning wide as he leaned back, his confidence slipping back into place. “all right, guess i’ll have to plan something good then.” you laughed, shaking your head. “no pressure or anything.” “trust me,” jay chuckled, though the warmth in his eyes now had your pulse racing even faster. “i’ve got it covered.” the office seemed to fade away as you both sat there, the moment stretching between you, feeling just right. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. “tonight, then,” jay said, his eyes never leaving yours. “tonight,” you echoed, feeling the weight of the promise in your own voice.

jay stood up, stretching a little before throwing you a glance over his shoulder. “oh, and wear my favorite,” he added, his tone dropping a little, laced with something more suggestive. you blinked, your smile faltering for just a second. “your favorite?” jay smirked, leaning closer, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “baby blue.” the memory of the set he was referring to flashed in your mind—the one you’d worn in a photo that had gotten a reaction out of him before. your cheeks flushed, the air between you two thickening with the weight of suggestion. “oh, that set.” “yeah... that one.” his fingers brushed against your arm, just barely grazing your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake before he turned, heading back to his desk. the light touch, the way his voice had dropped—it left you breathless, heart pounding against your chest. anticipation simmered under your skin, and you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face as you stared at your computer screen, already counting down the hours until tonight.

the apartment was buzzing with the usual pre-party energy when you got home, the low hum of excitement filtering through the walls. jungwon was already half-dressed, moving through the space like he had all the time in the world, while you rushed, desperately trying to get ready in time for your date with jay. “ugh, i’m running so late,” you muttered, throwing a glance at the mirror, your nerves on full display. nothing felt right, nothing was working, and time was running out. jungwon paused, leaning against his doorframe with that familiar smirk playing on his lips. “nervous for the big date?” his tone dripped with amusement, eyes trailing lazily over your frazzled state. “yeah,” you muttered, rifling through your drawer with a touch of panic. “jay’s picking me up soon, and i need to look perfect.” jungwon’s eyes flickered to the bed, where you’d laid out your baby blue lingerie—the set you knew jay liked. the comment came before he could stop himself. “nice choice.” his voice sounded casual, but you didn’t catch the way his eyes darkened as he stared at the delicate fabric. you barely glanced up, focused on finding the right shoes. “yeah, jay loves this one. figured it’d be a nice surprise.”

jungwon’s jaw clenched. jay’s favorite? something ugly coiled in his chest, why the hell should jay get that? he felt his phone buzz in his pocket—jake, impatient as ever, reminding him to hurry up. jungwon's gaze lingered on the lingerie for another moment, and then, he made his move. while you were still distracted, jungwon slipped into your room, pretending to grab his jacket. with one swift motion, he swiped the baby blue panties from the bed and stuffed them into his pocket. his heart pounded, but outwardly he remained calm, collected. “you seen my—” you turned, catching jungwon mid-movement as he pulled on his jacket, already halfway to the door. “oh, you’re leaving already?” you asked, still half-focused on getting yourself together. “yeah, jake’s blowing up my phone,” jungwon said, flashing you a quick, cool smile, his hand pressing the stolen lace deeper into his pocket. “good luck with your date. i’m sure jay’ll love that surprise.” “thanks,” you mumbled absentmindedly, not even looking up as you fumbled with your outfit. "have fun with the guys." as soon as jungwon was gone, you turned back to the bed, reaching for the lingerie. but something was wrong. the panties were missing.

"what the hell...?" you muttered, confused, rifling through the covers and around the room. i just put them here. you tore through your drawers, irritation bubbling up as your search turned up nothing. “ugh, whatever,” you muttered under your breath, deciding on the black lace set instead. the clock was ticking, and the last thing you needed was to be late. jay won’t mind, you told yourself, trying to push aside the frustration, but a nagging feeling of something missing lingered. jungwon, on the other hand, was already out the door, heading to meet jake and sunghoon, the baby blue panties securely tucked into his jacket pocket.

that small act gave him a twisted sense of control, a flicker of satisfaction, but beneath it all, a cold wave of futility crept in. what the fuck is this even for? he wondered, but couldn’t stop himself. it wouldn’t change a damn thing between you and jay. stealing your lingerie, messing with your plans—none of it would stop the fact that you’d be with him tonight. yet, knowing you wouldn’t be wearing that special set for jay, his favorite set, felt like a small, fucked-up victory. as the elevator doors slid shut, jungwon caught a glimpse of his reflection. what the hell am i doing? he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, but the question didn’t matter anymore. you’re not wearing that for jay, and that was enough to ease the coil of frustration in his chest. sliding into the backseat of jake’s car, jungwon’s mood clashed against the upbeat energy of the others. jake and sunghoon were hyped, laughing, planning out their night, but jungwon barely heard them. his fingers drifted to the pocket where the soft lace sat, his mind replaying the moment he’d swiped them from your bed, the way you’d been too distracted to notice.

his hand moved absentmindedly, tracing the delicate fabric as jake’s voice rambled on about which club to hit first. you’ll never even suspect me, he thought, a smug satisfaction settling in. there was no way you’d ever connect jungwon to your missing panties. that innocent, oblivious part of you wouldn’t even consider it. he leaned back in his seat, letting the rush of adrenaline mix with the twisted satisfaction that came from knowing you’d be out with jay tonight—wearing something else. completely unaware of what was missing. and in that moment, despite everything, jungwon felt like he was winning.

jungwon slouched back in the booth, the relentless thrum of the club’s bass pounding through his chest. lights flickered, neon blues and purples flashing across the crowded dance floor, but it all blurred together into a scene he couldn’t care less about. the chatter, the laughter, the sweaty bodies swaying to the beat—it was suffocating, only reminding him of everything he didn’t want to think about. he didn’t want to be here. hell, he didn’t want to be anywhere. but jake and sunghoon had dragged him out, practically forcing him to "get out of his head." now, here he was, at some fancy table heeseung had hooked them up with, surrounded by people celebrating god knows what. “lighten up, man.” jake nudged him, grinning as he took another swig from his beer. “heeseung pulled some strings for this, we should be having fun.” “yeah,” sunghoon leaned back, tossing a casual smirk his way. “it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.” jungwon barely managed a tight smile, they meant well, but it didn’t change the fact that he felt like he was suffocating. sitting here, pretending to enjoy himself, it was like the weight of everything was pressing harder on his chest. sure, it was better than being back at the flat, buried in your bed, breathing in the faint scent of your perfume from the pillow you’d left behind. a little less pathetic, maybe. but being here wasn’t much better. because here, he couldn’t escape the thoughts, the images playing over and over in his mind. you with jay.

“you good?” jake asked, his voice cutting through jungwon’s thoughts. his brow furrowed as he glanced over, clearly picking up on the tension rolling off him. “you’ve been weird all night.” jungwon’s response was quick, sharper than he meant it to be. “i’m fine.” he exhaled, trying to push down the frustration that threatened to spill over. no, i’m not fucking fine. sunghoon raised a brow, exchanging a glance with jake. “dude, you always say that. you’ve been holed up in your room for days. what’s gives?” jungwon didn’t answer. how could he explain it? how could he tell them that every time you walked out that door, it felt like a piece of him left with you? every time you left, he’d retreat to your room, curling up in your bed, clinging to whatever was left of you. burying his face in your clothes, pretending, even for just a few moments, that you were still there. it was fucked up. he knew that. but it was the only way to deal with the rage.

this night was supposed to be an escape. a distraction from the thoughts that tortured him, from the idea of you with him. but all it did was amplify it. with every drink, every laugh, every passing moment, he could feel the jealousy tightening around his throat like a noose. because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop seeing it—you and jay. your laughter, your smile, the way you’d look at jay like he was your whole world. the way jungwon wished, more than anything, you’d look at him. he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the pounding bass of the club could drown out the thoughts, the sickening ache in his chest. but it didn’t. he hated it. hated that no matter where he was, no matter what he did, it was always you. always jay. and it was destroying him from the inside out. jungwon watched as jake and sunghoon disappeared onto the dance floor, their laughter swallowed by the thumping bass and flashing lights. he was left alone, gripping his drink tightly, the alcohol buzzed through his veins, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the ache burning in his chest.

he missed you. god, he missed you so much it fucking hurt. his fingers slipped into his jacket pocket, brushing against the soft lace of your stolen panties, the secret that no one else knew about. but even that, even taking something so personal from you, felt useless. he missed the way you used to burst into his room unannounced, complaining about your day or teasing him for never leaving the apartment. he missed the way you leaned against him when you were too tired to hold your head up but refused to leave. now, everything felt distant, cold. and this drink? it was doing fuck all to help. and then, he saw you. jungwon’s heart leapt into his throat, his pulse racing as his eyes locked on you, stepping into the club like you owned the room. for a split second, hope flared, blinding and irrational. maybe you’d come looking for him, maybe you missed him too. his lips twitched, the beginning of a smile breaking free. but then he saw him. jay.

that flicker of hope was crushed under the weight of reality. jay, walking in behind you, his hand resting at the small of your back like he fucking owned you. like you were his. something twisted deep in jungwon’s gut, the jealousy simmering hotter now, searing through him. his hand clenched around the glass, the edges pressing into his palm as he watched jay guide you through the crowd, his touch too casual, too possessive. it was like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of him. his mind screamed, desperate to believe this wasn’t happening, that you hadn’t already slipped away from him. but watching jay pull you closer, seeing how easily you leaned into him, jungwon knew. jay was winning. jungwon drained his drink, the alcohol burning down his throat, but it did nothing to numb the burn in his chest. seeing you like this—in that fucking dress, looking so perfect it made him want to tear something apart—it was unbearable. he wondered if you were wearing the black or white lingerie he knew you loved. or maybe something else. maybe something jay had picked out for you. his jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on you, unwilling to look away. he stayed rooted to the spot, slipping into the shadows where he could watch without being seen. from there, he could see everything—every touch, every smile, every laugh you gave to jay like it was his right.

from a distance, it was easier to let the jealousy fester, to let it simmer and burn without having to fake a smile, without pretending everything was okay. his smirk returned, dark and twisted, as he watched jay pull you closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. you were his now, weren’t you? the thought twisted deeper, like a knife in his chest. jungwon leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving you, waiting for something—anything—to break. he let the jealousy, the rage, boil inside him, his fingers tracing over the lace hidden in his pocket, the one thing he had taken from you, something only he knew about. he glanced at jake and sunghoon, who were lost somewhere in the back, wrapped around a couple of girls, laughing and whispering in their ears like they had no worries in the world. good. let them leave. he didn’t need their company tonight. tonight was about you. his eyes snapped back to you, and the sight made his stomach churn. you were laughing, leaning into jay, your hand resting on his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. he fucking hated jay. he wanted to hate jay. he wanted to find something, anything, that would make him feel justified for the burning jealousy tearing him apart. but he couldn’t. no matter how hard he tried, jay was… perfect. and worst of all? jay made you happy. that’s what killed him the most.

because no matter how much he wanted you, no matter how much he needed you, jungwon knew deep down he would never be the one to make you happy like that. he’d never make you smile like jay did, never make you laugh like that, never be enough. and it fucking destroyed him. he leaned back into the shadows, eyes fixed on you, watching, waiting, stewing in his jealousy, his rage, his desperation.

he would never let you go. jungwon had called it. barely a few minutes after he slipped into the shadows, jake and sunghoon came stumbling back over to where he’d been sitting, girls hanging off their arms, wide smiles and flushed cheeks. they didn’t even have to say anything—the looks on their faces said it all. jake raised an eyebrow, smirking, while sunghoon winked, sealing the unspoken deal. they were about to make their exit. jungwon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he didn’t even need to look, already knowing what it would say. sure enough, there were texts from both of them. jake: bro, we’re heading out, see you later? sunghoon: you good? catch you tomorrow.

a bitter chuckle slipped out before he could stop it. he quickly typed out a reply, already drained by their carefree energy. jungwon: already left. have fun. from his hidden spot, he watched as jake and sunghoon exchanged glances, glancing around like they might actually give a shit about where he was before shrugging it off. they disappeared into the crowd with their arms slung around the girls, laughing like they had the night in the palm of their hands. good riddance. now he didn’t have to fake a damn thing. no more keeping up appearances, no more pretending. now he could stay hidden, drown in cheap liquor, and watch the night unfold the way he knew it would.

“hey, handsome.” the voice was low, sultry, but it grated against jungwon’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. he barely noticed her at first, until she was right up against him, pressing her body close, her fingers trailing lightly across his chest. he glanced down at her with cold, empty eyes. the dim lighting of the club cast shadows across her face, but even in the dark, he could see the desperation gleaming in her eyes, the too-eager smile playing on her lips. she had been watching him all night, and now, she finally thought she had her chance. without a word, jungwon reached up and gently pushed her hand away, his fingers curling around her wrist for just a second before letting go. “don’t.” his voice was flat, emotionless, his gaze already drifting back to where you were standing with jay. but the girl didn’t take the hint. she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his neck. “come on, don’t be like that. you look like you could use some company.” his jaw clenched, the retort he wanted to spit out getting stuck in his throat. he took a step back, creating some distance, but she followed him, her hands reaching for him again like she hadn’t just been told off. “i said don’t,” he snapped this time, his voice sharp, cold. jungwon’s patience was already wearing thin. “what’s your problem?” she pouted, her fingers still brushing against his chest, her body pressing even closer. “you’re just sitting here all alone. let me make you feel better.” jungwon’s eyes flicked back to her, darkening. “you reek,” he said bluntly, his tone icy. the girl blinked, caught off guard. “uh, excuse me?” “if you keep touching me, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

she laughed nervously, her confidence cracking as uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “wow, okay. someone’s got issues.” jungwon leaned in, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “are you my stepsister?” her expression twisted in confusion, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “uh, what? no, what does that even—" jungwon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, the intensity of his gaze making her instinctively step back. “nothing. but next time you push yourself on someone, maybe think twice.” she stared at him, her bravado crumbling under the weight of his words. her face twisted in disgust as she backed off, muttering, “you’re fucking weird,” before turning and disappearing into the crowd. he didn’t watch her leave. didn’t care. his focus was already elsewhere. he knocked back another shot, the alcohol scorching down his throat, his eyes locked on you again.

later that night, jay picked you up, looking effortlessly perfect in his usual style—black jeans, a fitted shirt that hugged his body in all the right places, and that smug grin that never seemed to leave his face. you’d dressed for the occasion, slipping into a sleek, curve-hugging dress that made you feel confident, sexy, a little daring. as the two of you made your way to the club he’d picked for the evening, you chuckled under your breath, taking in the neon lights and feeling the thrumming bass vibrating beneath your feet. “really? a club?” you teased, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “what kind of gentleman brings a woman to a club on their first date?” jay smirked, his hand casually sliding to the small of your back, guiding you inside. “a gentleman who knows how jealous you got every time our colleagues went clubbing while we were stuck at work.” your eyebrow shot up, surprised he’d picked up on that. “i didn’t think you paid attention.” jay leaned in close, his voice dropping just low enough to make your skin tingle. “trust me, y/n, i notice everything about you.” his words sent a rush through you, a blush creeping up your neck as you smiled and shook your head, trying to play it cool. despite the loud music and the bustling crowd, something about this felt perfect. you nudged him playfully. “okay, maybe you do have some charm after all.” jay grinned wider, pulling you closer as the two of you moved through the dimly lit space. “some charm? come on, i’ve got plenty.” you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the pull of his energy. he led you to a table near the edge of the dance floor, the music loud enough to shake your bones, but instead of overwhelming you, it seemed to ground you. jay sat close, his hand resting possessively on your thigh under the table, sending little sparks of excitement through your body.

“so, what do you think?” jay leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “better than the office, right?” you laughed, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “okay, fine, you win. better than the office. but only because you knew i was jealous.” jay’s grin widened, and for a second, his eyes darkened with something deeper. “hey, just trying to keep my girl happy,” he said smoothly, the words slipping out so easily they made your heart skip a beat. before you could overthink it, he was pulling you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor. “come on, let’s dance,” he urged, tugging you into the crowd. the two of you fell into a rhythm easily, your bodies moving together in sync with the pulsing music. the tension between you grew with every beat, every movement, jay’s hands firm on your hips, pulling you against him. the heat of his body mixed with the electric energy of the club, making it impossible to think of anything else. as the lights flickered and danced across the walls, jay pressed closer, his hands sliding lower, his touch lingering in a way that made it clear you were his tonight. and god, you loved it—loved the way he made you feel alive, reckless, like nothing else mattered but the two of you. the alcohol was hitting now, loosening your inhibitions, making everything a little hazier, a little more intense. you laughed more, leaned into jay’s touch more, feeling lighter, freer. the air between you was thick with something more than just fun, and jay’s breath against your neck as he moved with you only made it harder to ignore the tension building between you. “you good?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear, his hands roaming dangerously low. “better than good,” you grinned, your voice playful but laced with desire. “you?” jay chuckled, his hips pressing harder into yours. “i think you know the answer to that.” the night became a blur of dancing, shots, laughter, and more teasing touches. at some point, as you ground your hips back against jay, you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your lower back. the heat pooled in your stomach, and without thinking, you threw a playful glance over your shoulder. “oops,” you said with a smirk, teasing him. jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “oops?” he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “that’s all you’ve got to say?” you bit your lip, still moving against him, testing how far you could push. “what? i thought you were supposed to be a gentleman?”

jay groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. “gentleman or not, you keep grinding on me like that,” he murmured into your ear, his voice dark and rough, “and i might forget all my manners.” your heart raced, loving the way you were pushing him. “oh really?” you whispered, turning just enough for your lips to brush against his cheek. “so, what are you gonna do about it?” his eyes darkened further, and all the teasing vanished from his expression. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. “you sure you wanna test me, y/n?” his voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that made your pulse quicken. you swallowed hard, but you couldn’t resist pushing him further. “i dunno,” you whispered, still teasing. “i kinda like seeing you like this.” jay’s chuckle was dark, low in his throat. “you think you’re cute, don’t you?” he muttered, pressing harder against you. “grinding on me, saying ‘oops’ like it’s nothing.” your pulse quickened, your body reacting to every word, every touch. “maybe,” you breathed. “maybe i thought you could handle it.” his lips grazed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “i can handle it,” he murmured, “but can you?” you turned in his arms, your bodies still swaying to the music, faces inches apart. his eyes were dark with desire, the teasing grin gone. “so much for being a gentleman,” you whispered. jay smirked, pulling you tighter. “even a gentleman has his limits, y/n.”

the heat between you both was almost unbearable now, the tension so thick it was suffocating. you leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “by the way... i didn’t end up wearing your favorite tonight.” jay raised an eyebrow, his voice low and rough as he pressed his hips harder into yours. “oh yeah?” he murmured, “good thing i’m gonna be ripping them off anyway.” his words sent a thrill down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, hot and desperate. the kiss was messy, consuming, tongues tangling as you both finally gave in to the tension that had been building all night. your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as he groaned into your mouth.

but as you got lost in jay’s touch, you were completely unaware of the dark eyes watching you from the shadows. jungwon sat back, his drink forgotten, his vision narrowing until all he could see was you and jay—your hands all over each other, your lips locked in a kiss that made his blood boil. he felt nothing but pure, unfiltered rage. you pulled away from jay, breathless, your lips swollen from the kiss. “we should get out of here,” jay whispered, his voice rough with need. “yeah, let’s go back to mine,” you agreed, running a hand through your hair, still catching your breath. jungwon’s world spun. he couldn’t hear the words, but he saw it all—the way your body language shifted, the way you and jay talked, like you were about to leave. like you were going home together. his stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. you were about to leave with jay. you were going to go home with him. jungwon shoved through the crowd, his mind racing. he couldn’t let this happen. he had to get home first, had to do something before you and jay got there. before something happened that he couldn’t stop. his hands clenched into fists as he stormed toward the exit.

jungwon barely made it. he’d fucking sprinted the whole way, the flat wasn’t far from the club, but every second felt like it stretched into an eternity. his chest was tight, lungs burning as he raced, a sickening mix of desperation and fury pushing him harder. he knew you too well—knew you wouldn’t bother going far. not when you looked like you were ready to be fucked the moment you left that dance floor. the thought twisted his gut, but it also fueled him. he had to move faster. had to stop it. he burst into the flat, his breath ragged, each step slamming against the floor, reverberating through the walls. there was no fucking time. he stormed straight to his room, the door slamming so hard behind him it rattled the frame. his mind raced, pulse thundering in his ears, each thought more fucked up than the last. every step forward felt like he was spiraling deeper into madness, but he didn’t care. he stumbled over to his desk, fingers trembling, yanking the drawer open so hard it nearly came off the tracks. inside, neatly tucked away, was the fully charged battery he always kept on standby. his hands shook as he grabbed it, almost dropping it in his frantic state. no time to waste. he bolted down the hall, his feet barely hitting the floor, his heart slamming against his ribcage. your room. he shoved the door open, eyes wild as he stormed inside. everything felt too slow, too fucking slow. he tore the old battery out of the hidden camera lodged in the eye of the teddy bear on your dresser. his hands fumbled, slipping as nerves made him clumsy, cursing under his breath. “fuck, come on,” he hissed, voice low, barely containing the panic that was surging up his throat.

finally, the new battery clicked into place, and the camera blinked to life, the red light staring back at him. jungwon stood there for a moment, frozen, staring at the tiny lens. his breath was shallow, chest heaving. his entire body felt like it was on the verge of breaking apart. soon, too soon, you and jay would walk through that door. and he’d have to watch it. all of it. the thought sent a wave of nausea crashing over him, and for a second, he thought he might actually be sick. but he swallowed it down, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, and stormed back to his room. the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the flat like a gunshot, but he didn’t give a fuck. he dropped into his chair, fingers trembling as he flipped open his laptop. the screen flickered to life, casting a harsh glow across his face. he waited, breath caught in his throat, until the live feed blinked onto the screen—your bedroom, empty, waiting for what would happen next. but it wasn’t enough. not for this. his mind was racing too fast, spinning out of control. he knew you wouldn’t just stay in the bedroom, not with jay. you’d move, probably to the kitchen, the couch—wherever things got heated next. he couldn’t fucking risk it.

jungwon shot up from his chair, grabbing another small camera he had stashed away for emergencies. this was it. this was the emergency. sprinting down the hall, he made his way to the kitchen, eyes scanning the room for the perfect spot. his gaze landed on a shelf near the counter, cluttered with just enough shit to hide the camera. he positioned it meticulously, adjusting it until it captured everything—the counter, the table, the couch, all of it. he stood back, staring at the tiny lens nestled among the clutter, knowing it would record every fucking thing that happened tonight. jungwon rushed back to his room, his body vibrating with adrenaline. he slammed himself down in front of the laptop, hands shaking as he switched the live feed back on. the screen split into two—your bedroom, the kitchen. every angle covered. he could see it all now. his breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as the weight of what he’d done settled over him like a heavy fog. his pulse thundered in his ears, his heart hammering against his ribs. all that was left to do was wait. wait for you and jay to walk through that door. and then watch. watch it all unfold, every fucked up second of it. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, break something, or just let the rage consume him entirely. but he would wait. and he would fucking watch.

you and jay stumbled down the street, the night air biting at your skin, but you barely noticed it—too caught up in the alcohol buzz and the warmth of jay pressed up against you. his arm was draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers teasing the back of your neck as he whispered something in your ear, something filthy that made you laugh too loud, breathless. the world around you blurred, nothing mattered except him—his scent, the way his fingers lingered a little too long at the small of your back, sending heat rushing through you. you were both drunk, careless, and the electricity between you crackled like it was ready to explode. before you knew it, the flat loomed in front of you, your feet carrying you faster than your mind could keep up. the walk was too quick, too easy, like you both knew exactly where this was headed. lights off, no one home, the night was yours. and his. no need for keys, no time for second thoughts. the door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even blink, jay was on you, hands everywhere, lips crashing into yours with a hunger that knocked the air out of your lungs. your back slammed against the wall, and you gasped, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of it all. “fuck,” jay muttered into your mouth, his hands already gripping your waist, dragging you against him like he’d been holding back all night. “been waiting for this.” you let out a breathy laugh, tipping your head back to give him better access to your neck, his lips quick to find the sensitive skin there. “could tell,” you teased, tugging at his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. “impatient, aren’t you?”

his teeth grazed your neck, and you moaned, barely able to form coherent thoughts as his hands wandered lower, rough, desperate. “can you blame me?” his voice was low, thick with desire, breath hot against your skin. “i know you want it just as bad.” you let out a shaky laugh, your chest heaving as his fingers trailed dangerously close to the hem of your dress. “confident, aren’t you?” jay grinned against your skin, his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping them tight enough to leave marks. “i’d call it certainty,” he breathed into your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it. “i know exactly what you want.” your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between you two thickening, suffocating. you turned, eyes locking with his, daring him, testing him. “prove it.” he didn’t need to be told twice. his lips slammed back against yours, slower now, but deeper, as if he was trying to drown you in the kiss. his teeth tugged at your lower lip before pulling back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands roamed lower. with one sharp motion, he grabbed the fabric of your dress and ripped it, the sound echoing in the dark hallway. “jay!” you gasped, half-shocked, half-amused as you looked down at the ruined dress. “i liked that dress.” he smirked, unbothered, lips grazing yours again, his hands rough against your bare skin. “i’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered, eyes dark with lust, his fingers already sliding under the waistband of your panties.

you were breathless, heat pooling low in your belly as his hands wandered further, fingers ghosting over the spot that had you aching for him. “reckless bastard,” you muttered, but the thrill was unmistakable in your voice. his lips found your neck again, sucking hard enough to bruise, and you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on. the world outside of this moment didn’t exist, not the flat, not the night, not the possibility of anyone walking in. it was just you and him, and the growing tension between you that felt like it was about to snap. just as you were ready to lose yourself completely in him, jay pulled back, breath ragged, eyes dark. “wait… jungwon,” he muttered, voice thick with desire. “think he’s home?” the mention of your stepbrother brought reality crashing down, if only for a second. you blinked, your pulse still racing, body still pressed tight against jay’s. jungwon. he was supposed to be out with jake and sunghoon, but… “i don’t think so,” you mumbled, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “he’s out with the guys, but…”

jay’s hands tightened on your waist, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “then who gives a shit?” his voice was low, teasing. “even if he is home, we’ll just be quiet.” he smirked, leaning in closer, lips brushing your ear. “unless you want him to hear.” your breath hitched, the idea sending a shiver down your spine. the thought of jungwon walking in, seeing you like this, made you tense—but it also sent a thrill through you, something dark, something exciting. you bit your lip, glancing at jay. “he’d understand… right?” jay grinned, pulling you closer, his lips ghosting over yours. “trust me,” he whispered, voice low, filled with promise. “he won’t care. and if he does… we’ll just have to be quieter, won't we?” "take it off already," you demanded, pushing the thought of jungwon away, voice thick with desire as your fingers played at the hem of jay’s shirt. jay gave you that cocky grin, effortlessly peeling it off, exposing the hard lines of his bare chest to your touch. his skin was warm under your fingertips, and jay's grin only widened as he watched you take him in. your hands roamed over his chest, lingering, exploring, before trailing lower. "impatient tonight, aren’t we?" jay teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"maybe," you shot back, playful, eyes daring him. "or maybe you're just taking too long." jay chuckled, his lips finally pressing against yours, hard and hungry. his hands slid over your body, pulling you closer, making you arch into him as he deepened the kiss. the way he touched you, like he couldn’t get enough, sent a heat through your veins, every brush of his fingers leaving you wanting more. his lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. you moaned softly, fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked his way lower, his hands moving over every curve, every dip, like he was claiming you for himself. "you’re not comfortable, are you?" jay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur against your skin as his fingers traced the edges of your dress. you let out a breathy laugh, your fingers trailing across his chest. "i’ll manage. not like you’re giving me much of a chance to complain, are you?" jay smirked, lips brushing yours again, this time rougher, more impatient. "guess i’m not," he murmured, teeth grazing your lips as he pulled you closer. "but if you wanted to switch it up, i wouldn’t mind." his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. "is that right?" you teased, pushing back slightly, enjoying the way his body tensed under your touch. "and where do you want me, then?" jay’s voice dropped, thick with want, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you. "anywhere i can fuck you properly." your lips curved into a smile as you tugged at his waistband. "then maybe you should hurry up and get those off, too, hmm?" jay stepped back just enough to undo his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor echoing through the room. you leaned back against the counter, watching him with a playful smirk, the tension between you building with every second.

as his pants hit the floor, jay paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, that wicked grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. "let’s go to my room," you whispered, pulling him toward you as you slipped off the counter. jay’s eyes flickered with hunger, his hands never leaving your body as you led him down the hallway, the heat between you nearly unbearable as you disappeared into the dark.

in the dim glow of his room, jungwon’s jaw tightened. jay's smug voice grated against his ears. "smug fucking bastard," he snarled, teeth grinding, voice low and dripping with venom. he couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn’t stop himself from watching even though it was killing him inside. every move jay made felt like a taunt, a mockery of everything jungwon had ever wanted. the sight of jay’s hands on you—touching, claiming—was like acid burning through his veins. “you think you’re better than me? fuck you.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper but sharp enough to cut. his heart hammered against his ribs, chest tight with the fury that bubbled up with every second. jay stripping you of the dress? that was his touch you should be feeling, his lips you should be kissing, not jay's. "you think you can just walk in and take her?" his vision blurred with white-hot anger, teeth sinking into his lip until he tasted blood. watching jay move, touch, and claim—jungwon's body trembled with how badly he wanted to tear it all apart. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

his breath hitched as jay’s hands traveled lower, his body pressed against yours like he owned you. he fucking doesn’t. jungwon’s mind raced, his thoughts spiraling into an obsession he couldn’t control. i should be the one touching her. i should be the one kissing her like that. he couldn’t stop replaying it over and over—picturing himself in jay’s place, imagining how you would react to him instead. it should’ve been him pulling you close, feeling your body beneath his hands, hearing you whisper his name, not fucking jay. "i’ll make him pay," jungwon growled, voice hoarse with suppressed rage. his fingers twitched, itching to smash something, anything to stop this scene from unfolding in front of him. every breath jay took next to you felt like an insult, like he was stealing something that belonged to jungwon, ripping it right out of his hands. “fucking... asshole,” jungwon spat, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes fixed on jay’s stupid grin as he undid his belt. jungwon’s breath came faster, fury boiling over at how casual, how easy jay made it seem. like you were nothing more than something to pass the time with. he doesn’t deserve you. he’ll never fucking deserve you. when you tugged jay toward your room, jungwon’s breath hitched again, the room spinning around him. his room. his space. he was the one who should be walking down that hallway with you, not jay. he should be the one hearing your laugh, feeling your fingers pulling him close.

as jay disappeared with you down the hall, jungwon leaned back, cracking his knuckles one by one, eyes never leaving the screen. this isn’t over. not by a long shot. his vision blurred, eyes burning with the sting of unshed tears, but the anger—the fucking anger—that was stronger than anything else. jungwon leaned back, cracking his neck, a twisted smile forming on his lips. just wait. he would wait, watch, and when the time came, he’d destroy everything. everything jay thought he had. everything. you don’t even know what she needs. you’ll never be enough for her, he thought viciously, his mind racing with the sickening idea of tearing it all down. every bit of jay’s hold over you, he would destroy it. piece by piece. with one last look at the screen, jungwon’s hand reached for the mouse. the live feed flickered, showing your room, the kitchen, all the places you and jay might go. all the places jungwon would be waiting.

as you opened the door to your room, jay was on you before you even had the chance to take a step inside. his hands gripped your waist with that urgency you knew so well, lifting you like you weighed nothing and tossing you onto the bed with a cocky smirk that made your heart race. you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your body sinking into the soft sheets, but it didn’t last long. jay was already between your legs, grabbing your ankle, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed until your thighs dangled off. his eyes were dark, hungry, like he couldn’t wait another second. your ripped dress barely hung on your body, teasing him with flashes of skin, and his fingers brushed the hem, slowly pushing it up as his gaze followed. he was taking his time, but you could see it in his eyes—he wanted to devour you. “you’re driving me fucking insane,” he muttered, his voice rough as his lips ghosted over your inner thigh. the heat between your legs was unbearable now, and the way his breath brushed your skin made you squirm. impatient, you slipped your panties off and tossed them aside, your body trembling with need. jay’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “oh? i was planning to rip those off myself.” he raised an eyebrow, teasing you. you giggled breathlessly. “good thing i didn’t wear the baby blue ones, huh?”

his chuckle was low, filled with mischief. “oh, i wouldn’t have dared... but these? yeah, they had to go.” his fingers traced your wet folds, teasing just enough to make your breath hitch, and you could feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” his voice was rough, full of desire as his fingers slid inside you, slow, deliberate, making you gasp. “like your pussy hasn’t been fucked in forever.” the heat of his words sent a wave of pleasure through you, your back arching as his thumb found your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make you tremble. “fuck,” you whimpered, gripping the sheets beneath you, your body practically melting under his touch. “that’s it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers working you over. “i’m gonna make up for all that lost time.” you moaned, unable to form a coherent response as his fingers curled inside you, each stroke pulling you deeper into a haze of pleasure. every movement, every touch had you unraveling, breathless and trembling. “i thought you were a gentleman,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a sigh, pleasure clouding your thoughts. jay’s grin against your skin sent shivers down your spine. “who said i’m not?” his fingers continued their relentless rhythm. “maybe i’m just giving you exactly what you’ve wanted this whole time.”

he leaned back slightly, his hands trailing up to your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples as he watched you squirm beneath him. “fuck, you’re so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. before you could respond, his mouth was on your nipple, his tongue flicking over it, and you gasped, your back arching into him. the heat between you both was unbearable now, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to hide just how hard he was. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, your body aching for more. “move up,” you breathed, your hands tugging at his shoulders, needing him closer, needing more of him. jay groaned low in his throat, lifting himself just enough to adjust, sliding up over your body until he was fully on the bed, his weight pressing down on you in a way that made your whole body hum with anticipation. his lips found your neck, kissing, biting, sending sparks of pleasure through you. “better?” his voice was rough, strained with desire as he settled between your thighs again. “so much better,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back, urging him closer, needing him more than ever.

jungwon sat at his desk, elbows digging into the wood, fingers gripping his hair so tightly it felt like he might rip it out. his bloodshot eyes were locked onto the screen, the harsh light of his laptop casting deep shadows across his tired, hollow face. no matter how much his eyes burned, how dry his throat felt from panting, he couldn’t look away. his breath came in ragged gasps, mouth slightly open as he stared, feeling like the ground beneath him was crumbling. this couldn’t be real. it felt like a nightmare, one he couldn’t wake up from, watching jay touch you like that—watching you give in so easily, moaning under him, arching into his touch like you couldn’t get enough. “fuck,” jungwon whispered, voice shaky, his fists clenching tighter in his hair, trying to ground himself in the pain. maybe if he pulled hard enough, he’d snap out of this. maybe if he hurt enough, it’d drown out the scene playing in front of him.

but nothing worked. his body betrayed him. despite the anger boiling in his chest, he could feel himself hardening, his breath becoming more erratic as jay’s lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, teasing, while you whimpered beneath him. jungwon’s vision blurred with rage, but there was something else too—something sick. something he couldn’t stop. “sucking on your tits like that...” jungwon muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low, venomous, watching jay's hands grip your waist, watching how easily you surrendered to him. it twisted jungwon’s stomach, made him feel disgusted with himself, but still—he kept watching. he always watched. he’d watched you before—seen you with other guys through teddy’s eyes. it killed him every time, watching you with someone else, but this? this was different. jay was different. jungwon had never let himself go this far before, never crossed that line. never touched himself while watching. there had always been that line, the one he swore he’d never cross, no matter how much it hurt.

but this time, his hand hovered closer, trembling. jay was different. he hated it. hated how fucking good jay was. he could see it—could fucking feel it—how much more desperate you were, how much more you needed jay. jungwon’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. you were never like this with anyone else. “you’ve never fucking been like this before,” jungwon growled, fists shaking, eyes burning into the screen as your fingers tangled in jay’s hair, pulling him closer, your moans louder, more frantic. it was unbearable. you were never this desperate with anyone else. never this needy. the realization hit him like a punch to the gut: jay might even be better than him. something inside him snapped. the line he’d drawn for himself—the line that kept him from fully diving into this twisted, fucked-up obsession—blurred, then shattered completely. his hand shook as it moved toward his pants, his body acting on its own. there was no going back now. fuck it.

“no, no, no,” he hissed, frustration tearing through him, raw and suffocating. “why can’t you see? why the fuck can’t it be me?” the overwhelming urge to destroy something—anything—burned in his chest. he wanted to reach through the screen, rip jay away from you, stop this entire scene, but instead, his shaky hands fumbled for something else. your panties. fresh from the wash, but it didn’t matter. they were yours. they were enough. he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply, desperate for any trace of you, needing the connection, no matter how fucked up it was. his teeth bit down on the fabric, muffling the growl building in his chest, eyes glued to the screen, watching you, watching jay, feeling his whole body tremble with want, jealousy, and pure need. his hand moved lower, gripping his cock for the first time, unable to stop himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him. this should be me. why isn’t it me? "i’m just letting him borrow you," he whispered, breath ragged, hand moving desperately now as his eyes stayed fixed on you. "you’re mine."

"i'll make fucking sure of it," he gasped, his voice trembling, eyes rolling back as he struggled to keep watching. you were flipping jay over so easily, like you had all the control. like you were playing a game. “been wanting to suck your cock for the longest time now…” your voice, low and teasing, drifted through the speakers, and it sent him spiraling. his hand moved faster, strangled moans tearing from his throat as he watched you lower yourself between jay’s legs, that cheeky grin lighting up your face like you were enjoying every second of it. fuck. "shit," jungwon groaned, his breath shaky, watching as you took jay into your mouth, the obscene wet sounds filling the room, driving him closer to madness. “you should be doing that to me,” jungwon whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper, barely able to breathe. that should be him there, not fucking jay. the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around jay’s cock, burned into his mind, making his hand move faster, more frantic. “i’m the one who’s been waiting… not him,” he spat, pressing your panties harder against his cock, the fabric rubbing against him, heightening the sensation until he could barely think straight. jay’s groans filled the room, his hand cupping your cheek as you teased the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around him slowly, making him tremble. jay’s breath hitched, voice thick with lust.

“shit… just suck me off,” jay’s voice was raw, impatience laced with desire. “or i swear, i’ll fuck you right now.” jungwon’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he watched you hold all the power over jay, completely in control. you had him wrapped around your finger. you smirked, dragging your tongue along the length of jay’s cock, savoring how his hips jerked forward, desperate for more, desperate for you. “y/n,” jay growled, voice heavy with need. “don’t make me wait.” and you didn’t. with that sly smile still on your face, you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, your hands gripping his thighs, steadying yourself as you worked him. “oh, fuck,” jay muttered, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper. “shit, is this okay?” his voice was strained, trembling. “want to fuck your mouth, baby, will you let me?” the low moan you gave around his cock made jay groan, his hips bucking into your mouth, his control slipping, each thrust more eager, more desperate. he wasn’t waiting anymore—he was fucking your mouth now, deeper, harder with each motion. jungwon’s breath hitched, his strokes becoming frantic as he watched jay’s cock moving deeper into your throat, every sound, every moan, every whimper pushing him closer to the edge. he wasn’t going to last. not like this. not watching you like this.

he’s completely lost in it now, hands gripping your head firmly as he thrusts into your throat, groaning with every deep stroke, the sound of your muffled squeals driving him wild. “that’s it,” jay gasps, voice shaky, breath coming fast as he watches you struggle to take him, your lips stretched tight around his cock, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. the wet, obscene sounds between you both fill the room, slick and needy, making him moan in satisfaction. "you sound so pretty like this," jay rasps, his hand tightening in your hair, controlling your movements as he thrusts deeper. “look at you, taking my cock so well… you love it, don’t you? love how filthy this is?” you try to nod, eyes rolling back as you gag slightly, the raw need in his voice only turning you on more. jay leans back, biting his lip, clearly getting off on the sight of you choking on him, watching as your throat struggles to handle his size. “you’re a fucking dream, baby,” he mutters, voice rough with lust. “you gonna let me keep fucking that pretty mouth? yeah?” he doesn’t wait for an answer. his hips move faster, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with each thrust, more desperate, more intense with every second. you grip the sides of his thighs, nails digging into his skin as you feel him pulse in your mouth, his cock swelling as he nears the edge.

but just when you think he’s about to finish, jay abruptly pulls you off him. you cough, gasping for air, eyes tear-stained, cheeks flushed, and saliva trailing from your lips down to his cock. you barely have a moment to catch your breath before jay growls. “come here,” he demands, voice thick with urgency as he pulls you into his lap, positioning you to straddle him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. the second your bodies connect, his mouth crashes against yours, kissing you hard, teeth scraping against your lips as his hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he can’t get enough of you. before you know it, he’s flipping you onto your back, his body hovering over you, hands roaming your skin, rough and needy. his cock presses against your entrance, teasing you as he drags the tip through your slick folds, just brushing against your core but refusing to give you what you’re aching for. “beg,” jay growls, his lips brushing your ear, breath hot against your skin as he holds himself right there, torturing you with the anticipation. “i wanna hear you beg for it.”

your body arches toward him, the heat between your legs unbearable as your voice trembles, “please, jay… fuck me.” his smirk deepens, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes in just enough to make you feel the stretch but not enough to satisfy. “not good enough,” he murmurs, voice teasing as he hovers on the edge. “tell me how bad you want it.” you whimper, nails biting into his shoulders as you gasp, “please, i need you… i need you to fuck me open, jay… i want it so bad.” he groans, the sound guttural as he slides just the tip of his cock inside, your soaked pussy immediately clenching around him. “shit,” jay mutters, inching his way in slowly, eyes locked on yours as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “didn’t think you’d be this tight, baby. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” your breath is shaky, jaw slack as he stretches you inch by inch. it’s almost too much, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as you struggle to adjust to his size. “jay,” you whimper, your body tensing as he bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you. the intensity makes you yelp, your body instinctively trying to pull away.

he grips your hips tighter, holding you in place, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “where do you think you’re going?” he taunts. “thought you wanted this. wanted me to fuck you like this. you’re not running now.” “wait,” you manage to smile through the haze, breath uneven as you try to adjust to the stretch. “you’re… big.” jay’s grin widens, eyes glinting with pride. “you can take it,” he growls, rolling his hips slowly, teasing you with the slightest movements. “look at your pussy getting all stretched out for me.” your body responds immediately, legs trembling as he starts moving again, setting a rhythm that has you gasping for air, toes curling with every thrust. jay bites his lower lip, watching you struggle to take him, the sight of you barely holding on only spurring him on. he can’t help himself.

“harder?” jay chuckled, teasing, as he leaned back and adjusted his grip on the back of your thighs, spreading your legs wider. his weight pressed down on you, pinning you to the bed, completely at his mercy. your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself as the shift in position made you feel every inch of him more intensely. each deep thrust sent shockwaves through your body, forcing you to arch up, gasping for air. jay looked down at you, eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight—you, wrecked beneath him, panting, completely undone. he loved it. loved the way you looked like this, completely under him. now, with your legs spread even wider, he could feel so much more of you, every inch of your slick pussy gripping him tighter. “fuck... you feel that?” jay stuttered, his voice thick with pleasure as his pace quickened, hips slamming into you harder. “i can feel every part of you like this... shit, you’re taking me so fucking deep.” your moans were ragged, desperate, each one louder than the last as the pleasure crashed over you, your body arching off the bed with every powerful thrust. “jay... oh my god…” he smirked, watching you struggle beneath him, gripping your thighs tighter, spreading you open even more. “that���s right, baby,” he growled, his voice rough. “you’re gonna take it all... every inch of me.” you could only whimper, his pace brutal, relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. each thrust had you quivering, spiraling beneath him as he pounded into you, taking you apart with each stroke. “you love this, don’t you?” jay breathed, eyes burning with lust as he watched your body react to every movement. “you love being fucked like this…”

you managed a weak nod, your voice barely a whisper through the overwhelming pleasure. “yes... fuck, jay... i love it…” jungwon’s grip tightened around his cock, jerking himself off even though his stomach and thighs were already a sticky mess of cum. your panties, soaked and sticky with his release, dragged over his shaft, the fabric clinging to him as he pumped faster, his hand shaking. “fuck…” he hissed, barely able to get the word out, teeth clenched as he watched jay slam into you, each thrust harder, deeper. every sound you made almost tore him apart, his body jerking like he could feel it, like he was the one fucking you. "look at you... getting fucked dumb on his cock," jungwon’s voice cracked, bitter and desperate, a twisted mix of jealousy and arousal tearing through him. his strokes turned frantic, jerking himself harder, faster, like if he could go hard enough, fast enough, he could make it real—make it him instead of jay. his stomach clenched, head thrown back, legs trembling as he imagined it was him inside you. “you’d feel so much better with me,” he growled under his breath, his hand moving faster, frustration boiling over. “i’d fuck you better than him,” jungwon choked out, barely more than a growl. his cock throbbed in his hand as he imagined you screaming his name, wanting him the way you wanted jay. “you’d fucking see…” your moans, the way you shook, the way you screamed—jungwon was losing it. he wanted that. needed that. his body tensed as another orgasm ripped through him, spilling over the already soaked panties. jay was relentless, slamming into you so hard you could barely breathe, your entire body trembling, feeling light-headed with pleasure as you teetered on the edge of release.

jungwon could see it, could feel it in his bones. his breath hitched as he watched, hating the sight of jay inside you, filling you when it should’ve been him. “shit, your pussy’s too good,” jay grunted, his voice strained as he thrust into you harder. suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you gasping, your body aching for more, already too wound up. “not yet,” jay whispered against your lips, teasing you with the faintest brush of his mouth before pulling back. his hand tapped your thigh, commanding you to move. before you could even think, jay flipped you onto your stomach, positioning you like you were nothing more than a toy to him. his hands gripped your hips tight, lifting you the way he liked, preparing to take you all over again.

out of nowhere, jay’s hand cracked down on your ass, the sharp slap echoing through the room. you yelped, the sting rippling into a wave of pleasure that lit your body on fire. “fuck,” you whimpered, biting your lip, wanting more. “you like that?” jay’s voice was rough, dripping with lust as he knelt behind you, his hands kneading your ass before delivering another sharp smack. “look at you, already missing my cock.” your moans were muffled by the pillow, your body trembling as your hips pushed back, desperate for him to fill you again. he lined up, teasing your entrance, barely brushing against you, making you squirm. “jay, please,” you begged, voice breathless, needy. he chuckled low, letting the head of his cock tease you, dragging it along your slick folds, enough to make you squirm but never giving you what you needed. “tell me how much you want it,” he growled, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice filled with desire. “put it back in,” you whined, pressing back against him, trying to take him in yourself. but jay only smirked, pulling away just enough to enjoy your frustration. his chest pressed against your back, his cock dragging torturously over your slick folds, teasing you without mercy. his breath was hot on your neck as he whispered, “you want it that bad?” you bit your lip, holding back, but when he nudged just the tip inside and pulled out again, your body jolted, your pride cracking. “jay, please,” you murmured, voice trembling with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. his dark chuckle brushed against your skin, his lips grazing your neck. “c’mon, y/n… say it,” he teased, giving you another shallow thrust, pulling back just as quickly. “you know you want it.”

your nails dug into the sheets, frustration building as your control slipped. “i want it, please,” you gasped, breath shaky. “fuck my pussy... give it to me.” his grin widened against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to line himself up, lips close to your ear. “then take it,” he growled, slamming into you hard and deep in one brutal thrust, making you scream into the pillow. “oh god—jay,” you cried, voice muffled, body shaking beneath him as his teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain mixing with overwhelming pleasure. “fuck,” jay groaned, his breath ragged against your skin. “wanted to take you out on a proper date, but you had to grind on me at the club.” his voice was low, growling between each brutal thrust, the slap of skin filling the room, drowning out your desperate moans as your body quivered beneath his weight. “couldn’t help it,” you choked out, voice breaking between gasps. “you looked so fucking good.” jay’s grip on your waist tightened, his pace relentless, fucking you harder, making you scream as waves of pleasure rolled through you. “goddamn, y/n… you’re driving me fucking insane.” “i finally…” you panted, voice barely coherent, “broke you, didn’t i? you fuck like an animal.”

jay growled low, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “maybe you did,” he muttered, voice raw with need. “look what you fucking do to me.” his words sent a shiver down your spine, pushing you closer to the edge as his thrusts became more desperate, more intense. “you wanted this,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck, his chest heavy on your back. “you wanted me like this, didn’t you?” you tried to hold back the moans, but he was so deep inside you, every thrust pushing you closer to the brink. “yes,” you gasped, nails clawing at the sheets. “yes, jay, don’t stop—keep fucking me.” his grunts grew louder, his pace brutal as he chased his release, lips brushing yours in a messy, heated kiss. his hips stuttered, rhythm faltering as he reached his limit, overwhelmed by how much you wanted him, how you took everything he gave like you were made for him. “fuck, i’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained. “gonna pull out, baby.” but you shook your head, legs wrapping tighter around him. “no,” you whispered, breathless but firm. “just—give it to me. i want all of it.” jay’s breath hitched, body trembling as he tried to hold on. “fuck, you're serious?” he rasped, control slipping. you nodded, licking your lips, urging him to let go, needing him to finish inside you.

your nails dug deeper into the sheets, your body trembling as you gasped, “don’t pull out… cum in my pussy… fill me up.” his grip tightened, his voice wrecked. “you’ll make me get you pregnant, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark with lust, staring down at you. “god, you’re fucking killing me.” you nodded, desperate, voice barely audible. “i… i’ll take care of it,” you moaned, meeting his thrusts. “just- please, inside me. you’re fucking me so good, want it—” “oh fuck, y/n,” jay growled, pushing in deep as his body shook, coming hard inside you, filling you with everything he had. “take it,” jay grunted, his voice raw, body jerking against you one last time as the heat flooded you. even as he finished, you kept grinding against him, milking every drop from him. his body trembled, his moans turning helpless as he collapsed on top of you, completely spent. “shit… stop moving, baby,” jay gasped, but even as the words left his mouth, his body couldn’t stay still, still trembling as he held you tighter, keeping himself buried deep inside you.

his breath was hot against your neck, heart pounding hard enough that you could feel it against your back. soft kisses trailed along your shoulder, his lips warm, gentle, as his body slowly came down from the high. “i’m sensitive,” jay muttered, his voice low and intimate, a softness creeping into the words as he shifted, turning both of you so you were curled into him, still connected. his cock twitched inside you, the aftershocks of his release sending shivers through his body. he held you close, arms tight around your waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin as the two of you lay there in silence. “i’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice a quiet promise. you shifted slightly, wincing at the overstimulation, making jay groan. “ugh, that was so fucking good,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. “don’t move,” he groaned, tightening his grip on you, his arms possessive. “don’t wanna pull out yet.” you stayed tangled together, limbs entwined, the warmth of post-orgasm settling into your bones. the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of your breathing, occasionally broken by soft laughs as you both tried to process what had just happened. jay shifted beside you, still warm, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. his fingers brushed lightly over your waist, and you felt your eyelids growing heavier, the peaceful haze of sleep starting to take over.

“mm, y/n?” his voice was soft, thick with sleep as he nuzzled into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “yeah?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. “you okay?” “just couldn’t get comfortable for a second,” he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “sorry, you can go back to sleep, baby.” the word “baby” made you smile, but you were too exhausted to tease him for it. his affection was clear, and it warmed you from the inside out. but as your mind began to wander, a nagging thought crept in—jungwon. you hadn’t heard from him since last night, and a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder where he was, if he was okay. you tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, pulling you out of the comfortable haze. “what time is it?” you asked softly, not really expecting an answer, just needing a distraction. “still early,” jay murmured, pressing his lips against your neck again. “don’t worry about it.”

you tried to relax, to let his warmth lull you back to sleep, but your mind kept circling back to jungwon. “did jungwon ever get home?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it. jay shifted beside you, his arm tightening around your waist slightly. “jungwon?” he muttered, still drowsy. “i dunno… didn’t hear him come in.” you bit your lip, unease gnawing at you. jungwon had gone out with jake and sunghoon, and usually, he would at least text if he wasn’t coming back. but your phone was somewhere on the floor, and jay had you wrapped so tightly you couldn’t reach it. still, something didn’t feel right. “he’ll be fine, y/n,” jay murmured, sensing your tension even half-asleep. his voice was soothing, but it didn’t fully ease the anxious twist in your stomach. “yeah, you’re probably right,” you whispered, though the unease remained. you snuggled back against him, trying to let the comfort of his presence calm you, but your mind kept wandering back to jungwon. jay shifted again, and this time his voice was softer, more hesitant. “y/n?” he began quietly, his breath brushing against your neck. “would you be mad if i told you i like you so fucking much?” his words snapped you out of your thoughts, your heart skipping a beat. “mad?” you turned slightly to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “why would i be mad?”

he sighed, rubbing gentle circles on your side as he met your eyes. “i dunno. maybe ‘cause i’m saying it now... after we just, you know, had sex for the first time.” he chuckled awkwardly. “kinda feels like i should’ve said it before all of this.” you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his honesty, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “you did call me your girl earlier, remember?” you teased, easing the tension with a playful smile. he grinned, rolling his eyes. “yeah, real smooth, huh?” “so smooth,” you laughed quietly, shaking your head as the weight of the moment lifted between you. he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his voice softer now. “but seriously... i like you. a lot. more than i thought i would.” his confession made your chest warm, and your heart beat a little faster. “i like you too, jay,” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin. “and no, i’m not mad.” relief washed over his face, and his smile widened as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “good. ‘cause i really don’t wanna fuck this up.” “you’re not,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently, reassuring him. for now, in this moment, everything between the two of you felt right—even if your mind kept drifting back to jungwon. jay sighed, content, pulling you even closer, his body relaxing against yours. but as sleep started to creep back in, that small thought of jungwon lingered in the background, refusing to let go.

jungwon slumped back in his chair, chest heaving, body drenched in sweat, his skin clammy with the aftermath of how far he'd let himself go. his heart pounded violently, each beat a reminder of the sick desperation that gripped him tighter with every passing second. no matter how many times he came tonight, it wasn’t enough. it never was. the screen had gone black minutes ago, but the sounds—the haunting echoes of your moans and jay’s grunts—played relentlessly in his mind. it felt like they were carved into his skull, on repeat, taunting him, reminding him of every moment he wasn’t there, every time jay had what he craved most. jungwon dragged a trembling hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his damp forehead, his eyes burning with unshed tears. his other hand still clutched your lingerie, the delicate lace now crumpled and soaked with his own cum. disgust surged through him as he stared at the fabric. it felt like a mockery of the connection he so desperately longed for. he let it fall from his fingers, the soft thud of it hitting the keyboard echoing like a final defeat. but the disgust didn’t make the ache in his chest any less real. it clawed at him, gnawing at his insides, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. how long was he going to do this to himself? how long would he have to watch you give everything to jay? his teeth sank into his lip, hard enough to draw blood, the sharp taste grounding him for just a second before the agony crashed back in, stronger than ever. it wasn’t about the release—never was. the way you begged jay to fuck you harder, to cum inside you—it was a knife twisted in jungwon’s gut, over and over. “fuck…” his voice shook, barely more than a whisper. he hated himself for how much he wanted to blame you. but he couldn’t. he could never hate you, even as every part of him shattered under the weight of it all.

his body trembled, weak from the overstimulation, but his mind was a storm—each thought darker, more desperate. he pushed himself up from the chair, legs barely supporting him as he stumbled toward the bed, collapsing onto it face-first, still half-naked, pants bunched around his thighs. his cock twitched against the sheets, oversensitive and raw, but the pleasure had turned into something hollow, something meaningless. the silence of the room pressed in on him, thick and suffocating. jungwon hugged his pillow tightly, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, exhaustion clinging to him, but sleep felt impossibly far. his mind wouldn’t stop racing. how could he ruin this? how could he tear jay down, rip him apart, make sure he could never have you again? thoughts of revenge spiraled in his head, each one darker, more vicious than the last, but nothing felt like enough. nothing matched the depth of the emptiness he felt. he needed to break jay. he needed to make jay feel the same crushing agony that had consumed him for weeks. the same jealousy, the same suffocating helplessness. he needed to make jay feel what it was like to lose everything. with a sharp breath, jungwon slammed his fist into his chest, the impact sending a shock of pain through his ribs, but it did nothing to drown out the ache inside him. if anything, the hollow feeling only grew, spreading through his veins like poison. it wasn’t enough. “fuck!” jungwon gasped, his voice cracking, raw and broken as he punched his chest again, harder this time. his knuckles throbbed from the force, but the pain was futile—useless against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to drown him.

tears welled in his eyes, hot and unrelenting. his hands shook as he gripped his hair, pulling hard, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it was useless. the dam broke, and a harsh, guttural sob tore from his throat. one after the other, the sobs came, his entire body shaking with the force of them. “no… no…” he whimpered between gasping breaths, the tears streaming down his face, soaking into the pillow beneath him. he had never felt so broken, so pathetic. the sobs wouldn’t stop, his entire body convulsing with each ragged cry, years of frustration, jealousy, and desperation bubbling to the surface all at once. “it’s not fair,” jungwon whimpered, his voice barely audible, choking on the words as they left his lips. “it’s not fucking fair.” “why?” he cried out, voice shattering in the darkness, trembling and fragile. he buried his face deeper into the pillow, trying to muffle the broken sobs that tore from him, but nothing could stop the flood of agony ripping him apart. the pain grew, gnawing at him, spreading through his chest like wildfire, consuming him completely. “i love you,” jungwon whispered, the words trembling, broken, and so full of hurt. “fuck, i love you so much.” but his words fell flat, lost in the empty silence of his room. they hung in the air, unanswered, just like every other desperate plea he’d made. he sobbed harder, the tears coming slower now, but no less painful, each one a bitter reminder that nothing had changed. nothing would change. he lay there for what felt like hours, broken, sobbing into the darkness, waiting for the pain to subside. but it didn’t. it lingered, sharp and unyielding, an open wound that wouldn’t heal. deep down, he knew it never would. he would never escape this.

days passed, and jungwon became nothing more than a ghost in the apartment, slipping through the cracks, disappearing into the shadows like he was made of them. you never saw him during the day, only heard the faintest shuffle of footsteps late at night, long after you’d gone to bed, when he knew you wouldn’t be around to see him. at first, you thought he wasn’t coming home at all. no signs, no sounds. it was like he’d vanished. but then, in the dead of night, there it was—the creak of a door, the quiet rustle of sheets, the almost imperceptible presence of him trying to remain unseen. he was avoiding you, and you had no idea why. it took you days to work up the courage to knock on his door. you didn’t know what you were expecting, but the silence that greeted you after your hesitant knock made the knot in your chest tighten. “jungwon? you there?” your voice was barely a whisper, pressed against the door like you were afraid of what you might hear. there was no response. just more suffocating silence. you were about to give up, about to turn away, when you heard it—the faintest rustle of movement, sheets shifting, the sound of someone deliberately staying quiet. he was there. he didn’t want to face you. "hey… you’ve been in there for days... are you okay?" you tried again, the ache in your chest making your voice softer, more desperate. nothing. no answer. the silence dragged on, the weight of it pressing down on you until you couldn’t take it anymore. eventually, you walked away, the heavy thud of your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. the few times you did catch a glimpse of him, it was like seeing a ghost. jungwon would slip past you in the hallway, his head down, shoulders slumped, moving so quickly it was like he couldn’t get away fast enough. he wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence, like you weren’t there.

his face… god, his face. gaunt, hollowed out, dark circles carved beneath his eyes so deep it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. his lips, pale and cracked, barely held together, and his clothes hung loosely on him, like he’d stopped caring about everything—including himself. the jungwon you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow shell, this shadow of a person who had locked himself away so deep inside that you didn’t know how to find him anymore. and then there was that night. you’d woken up thirsty, stumbling into the kitchen for a glass of water, when you found him sitting at the counter. jungwon was just sitting there, staring blankly at the floor, an untouched plate of food in front of him, cold and forgotten. he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you when you entered. his stillness was unnerving, like he was frozen in place, trapped in a moment he couldn’t escape from. “jungwon?” you whispered, your voice trembling with concern, hoping, praying he’d respond this time. but he didn’t. he didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. he just sat there, hollow and vacant, like a ghost haunting the room, as if your presence meant nothing to him. and then, just as slowly as he’d appeared, he stood, his movements stiff and robotic, walking past you as if you weren’t even there. like you didn’t exist. for a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of his face—the emptiness in his eyes, the haunted look that twisted your gut with worry. it was like staring into a void, like jungwon wasn’t really there at all anymore. whatever was happening inside him, it was consuming him from the inside out, pulling him further and further away from you, into a darkness you couldn’t reach. something was horribly wrong, and no matter how hard you tried to reach him, to break through that impenetrable wall he’d built around himself, jungwon was slipping further and further away, disappearing into a place where you couldn’t follow.

you found yourself standing in front of jungwon’s door again, hand hovering over the wood, your heart pounding in your chest. this wasn’t the first time, but it felt heavier now, like there was more on the line. you hesitated, teeth sinking into your lip, before finally knocking. just like every other time, there was nothing but silence. the faint hum of the apartment’s air filled the space around you, but from behind that door, it was as if nothing existed. no movement. no sound. no acknowledgment of you.

the tightness in your chest grew, a knot of anxiety settling deep inside. you missed him. the silence, the way he was avoiding you—everything about it felt wrong, like something crucial had been ripped away. you stood there, staring at the door, chewing your lip, debating whether to walk away again, or push through the painful awkwardness. you couldn’t just leave things like this. not with him. “jungwon,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper, fragile in the quiet hallway. “i’m... i’m worried about you. i don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve been so distant, and it’s not like you. can you please talk to me?” nothing.

the silence on the other side of the door pressed down on you, suffocating. you leaned your forehead against the wood, trying to hold back the swell of frustration and sadness building inside. why wouldn’t he just talk to you? what had changed between you two? you’d always been close, always had that connection. but now? it was like you were invisible. you exhaled shakily, deciding to try a different approach. "i’m going to tell you about my day, okay?" your voice was lighter, like you were forcing a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “i know you probably don’t care right now, but maybe if you hear me out, you’ll feel like talking to me. or at least... listen.” you leaned your body against the door, as if you could get closer to him through it. “i went to work, and it was... fine, i guess. lisa kept annoying me with her gossip, you know how she is. she tried to drag me out for drinks after, but i wasn’t feeling it.” you let out a small laugh, trying to inject some normalcy into the air, like it would remind him of what used to be easy between you two. “i know how much you hate hearing about her, but i don’t have anyone else to vent to right now, so... sorry, you’re stuck with this.”

still, silence. the ache in your chest deepened, but you kept going. “jay’s been away on a business trip. he left a few days ago... and i don’t know, it’s been harder than i thought. him being gone, and now you avoiding me... it’s making everything worse.” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. it was the truth. you felt so alone without jungwon and jay. you always leaned on him when things got hard, but now even he was gone, unreachable. “i miss you,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper, your hand pressing flat against the door, wishing you could feel him on the other side. "i miss how we used to talk, how we’d hang out. i don’t know what happened between us, but... it’s killing me that you’re avoiding me. i just... i need my brother back." you waited, heart hammering, hoping for anything—a sound, a word, something to let you know he was still there. but there was nothing. the silence was thick and unrelenting, swallowing you whole.

your throat tightened, the feeling of helplessness wrapping itself around you. you took a deep breath, giving the door one last soft tap. "i’ll leave you alone now, but... please, jungwon. just talk to me. whenever you’re ready." you turned away, your heart heavy, each step feeling like you were sinking further into a pit. the quiet in the hallway was suffocating, and the weight of jungwon’s absence pressed down harder on you with every second that passed. you missed him, more than you could put into words. the distance between you felt impossible to bridge, and no matter how hard you tried, it only seemed to grow wider. "can you at least try to answer my texts?" you called out, voice softer now, almost pleading, desperation leaking through. you stopped in the middle of the hall, waiting, waiting for something, anything. but the silence stretched on, and the gnawing ache in your chest worsened. nothing.

not a single sound came from his room. it was like he wasn’t even there anymore. you swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower with each second that passed without a response. the frustration, the sadness, the helplessness—it weighed on you like a stone, heavy and crushing. you didn’t know how to reach him anymore. you didn’t know how to bring him back. “please, jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more to yourself than to him now. you stood there, rooted to the spot, waiting, hoping, wishing for something, anything. but all you got was the same oppressive silence that had surrounded you for days. finally, with a deep sigh, you turned away, that familiar ache settling deeper in your chest, like a hole that couldn’t be filled. each step down the hall felt heavier than the last, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. you wanted him back. you wanted your brother back. but he was slipping further away, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

you sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, scrolling through your messages with jay. the conversation had started light, but as the texts went on, you could feel the emptiness creeping in, the sharp realization of how much you missed him gnawing at you.

you: hey... i miss you. feels kinda empty here without you jay: i miss you too, baby. just a few more days and i'll be back before you know it you: ugh, this business trip sucks. feels like forever jay: trust me, i’m counting down the days too you: you better make it up to me when you get back ;) you bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you imagined him reading that message. there was a small pause before his reply came in. jay: oh, i will. got something special planned for you. promise. you: now i’m curious... jay: you’ll have to wait and see ;) but don’t worry. it’ll be worth it.

you could practically hear the smirk in his words, and the thought made your chest flutter. as much as you hated being apart, jay always knew how to ease the ache, even if it was just through a few flirty texts. you: wish you were here though... feels off without you around jay: same here. but i’ll be back soon. promise. you: ugh, you’re so positive lol. i wish i had that right now jay: gotta keep the vibes up, babe. we’ll be fine, just a little longer. you: okay, fine... but i still hate it lol jay: you’ll survive. i’ll make it up to you, remember? you: you better...

the conversation made you smile, but the silence around you felt heavier than before. it lingered, pressing down as you stared at the screen, waiting for another response. then:

jay: i’ve got meetings for the next few hours, so i won’t be reachable, okay? you: yeah, okay. good luck, don’t work too hard jay: i’ll try. talk soon, love you. you: love you too. you sighed, putting your phone down, staring at the empty room. jay was right—you’d see him soon—but that didn’t stop the ache. the apartment felt hollow without him, and worse, jungwon was barely speaking to you. what if jungwon was still acting distant when jay came back? maybe jay could help. maybe he’d get jungwon to open up. but for now, you were left alone in the quiet. you chewed on your nail absentmindedly, eyes flicking to the screen, but the movie playing was just background noise, something to fill the silence. after a few moments, you reached for your phone again, scrolling through the unanswered texts you’d sent to jungwon. the long thread of messages, one after another, stared back at you, and each unread line made your heart sink further.

you: hey, you haven’t left your room in days? you: seriously, jungwon, what’s going on? you: are you mad at me? i just want to talk. you: please answer me.

not a single response. you frowned, the tightness in your chest growing, frustration mixing with the sadness that had been building for days. why wouldn’t he just talk to you? part of you wanted to give him space, let him come to you when he was ready, but the longer he stayed away, the more it hurt. with a deep sigh, you opened up another message. you: look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i hate this distance between us. if you need space, fine, but at least let me know you’re okay. you hesitated, staring at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. would he even read this? you hit send anyway, the weight of the unsaid words pressing on your chest. after a moment, you typed one last message. you: if you want to talk or just hang out... my door’s open. come to my room if you feel like it. you set your phone down, the silence of the apartment swallowing you whole. without the distraction of the TV, the quiet was deafening, making the emptiness feel so much more real. you glanced at your phone one last time, hoping—wishing—for a reply, but there was nothing. not even a sign that he’d read your messages.

with a soft sigh, you turned off the TV and made your way to your room. the bed creaked softly as you dropped onto it, pulling the blankets around you. your phone lay on the nightstand, screen dark and still, the silence hanging heavy around you. you left the door cracked open, just in case. the apartment was too still, and jungwon’s absence weighed on you like a physical thing. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but sleep didn’t come easily. it was a restless kind of feeling, the kind that left you half-awake, waiting for something that might never come.

and then, the bed dipped. you jolted awake, heart slamming against your ribcage, the remnants of sleep still clouding your vision. you blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light, and there he was—jungwon. sitting at the edge of your bed, his back turned to you, his posture rigid. “jesus, you fucking scared me,” you muttered, trying to steady the pounding in your chest. he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge your words. just sat there, like a statue, head bowed, shoulders tense. something was off—really off—and the heavy silence that hung between you only made it worse. you noticed the door was closed. when had that happened? the stillness of the room felt suffocating now, like the air itself was thick with everything left unsaid.

hesitant, you reached out, placing a hand gently on his back. the moment your palm touched him, you felt him flinch, his body reacting to the contact like it was a jolt of electricity. but he didn’t pull away. he stayed there, frozen, his breath catching in his throat before it escaped in a deep, shaky exhale. “please,” you whispered, voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the tension in the room, “don’t shut me out. i miss you.” the words seemed to snap something inside him. jungwon turned his head sharply, eyes wide, and for the first time in a long while, you could see everything—all of it. the raw, unfiltered emotion that he’d been hiding. his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and though he blinked quickly, trying to hold them back, it was too late. you’d seen the truth. you could feel the hurt radiating from him, almost palpable. “you… miss me?” his voice cracked, disbelief laced in every syllable, as if the very idea of you missing him was foreign, impossible. there was something raw, almost desperate, flickering in his gaze, something that made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

you nodded, your throat tightening, the emotions between you thickening. how had you not noticed? how had you let it get this bad? “wow…” jungwon muttered, running a trembling hand through his hair, visibly trying to keep himself from falling apart. but it was clear he was on the edge, barely holding on. his emotions swirled around him, chaotic and heavy, and you could feel the weight of it pressing on you too. “you just say that, and suddenly… i want to be okay again.” his voice wavered, a bitter laugh bubbling up from deep within him. “isn’t that pathetic?” the laugh was sharp, almost cutting, but beneath it was something so much more fragile, something that hurt to hear.

“what are you talking about?” you whispered, your heart breaking for him in ways you couldn’t quite grasp. his words, his tone—they didn’t match the jungwon you knew. this wasn’t the boy you’d grown up with, the boy who had always been so full of quiet strength. this was someone drowning, lost in emotions that were too big for him to carry alone. without a second thought, you moved closer, your hands gently tugging him toward you. “come here,” you said softly, your voice both an invitation and a plea. you guided him away from the edge, pulling him into you. and this time, he didn’t resist. he let you pull him close, his head resting against your shoulder, his body curling into yours like it had so many times when you were kids, like he was searching for that comfort, that familiarity. your heart swelled, a bittersweet warmth spreading through your chest as you held him. you remembered the times you’d fall asleep together, mid-movie, or after long days spent together. but this... this was different. his breathing was shaky, his body trembling slightly against yours, and you could feel the storm of emotions inside him.

and yet, something else lingered, something that made the air around you feel thicker, heavier. “but you’ll hate me,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. his voice was so vulnerable, trembling with fear, with something you couldn’t quite place. “hate you?” you echoed, your fingers brushing through his hair gently as you tried to soothe him, tried to understand. “why would i ever hate you?” he didn’t answer right away. his face was still pressed against your chest, but you could feel the shift in him, the tension building. when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.

tears clung to his lashes, but there was something more, something darker in his gaze. his eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. your heart stuttered in your chest, a sense of unease washing over you. the closeness between you suddenly felt different, charged in a way that made your stomach twist. “jungwon?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, the question heavy in the air between you. but before you could process the meaning behind his gaze, before you could move or speak again, his grip on your shirt tightened, pulling you even closer. his face was inches from yours now, and then, suddenly, his lips were on yours—soft, shaky, unsure, but insistent. it wasn’t what you expected. it wasn’t what you wanted. but it was happening.

your heart pounded in your chest, panic rising as the kiss fully registered. you pulled away quickly, your breath coming in shallow gasps, hands pushing against him. "what are you doing? stop—no, we can’t!" your voice trembled, desperate to make sense of the overwhelming rush of emotions. but jungwon didn’t stop. his eyes, wide and filled with something raw and unrecognizable, bore into yours. there was a desperation in them, something pleading, frantic. “please, y/n, just listen—” he leaned in again, his voice almost breaking. “no!” you cried, pressing harder against his chest, trying to create space between you. your hands shook as you tried to shove him back, your mind screaming at you that this wasn’t right. “this isn’t right, jungwon! we can’t—”

“but you kissed me back,” he interrupted, his voice cracking as he held your gaze, the hurt in his eyes twisting painfully in your chest. “i know you felt it too. you didn’t pull away right away. you liked it, didn’t you?” his words hit you like a punch, leaving you reeling, the confusion swirling inside you tightening like a knot. “no, i didn’t—” you stammered, shaking your head, trying to shake off the weight of his accusation. how did this even happen? “please,” he whispered, his voice breaking, and before you could react, he leaned in again, his desperation bleeding into every movement. his lips crashed against yours with a force that left you breathless, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with an intensity that made your head spin. you struggled, hands pushing at him, but his strength overpowered yours. the more you resisted, the harder he pressed, the kiss turning more frantic, more overwhelming. you told yourself to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body… your body wasn’t listening. it froze, paralyzed in the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. the heat of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—it blurred everything else. for a split second, nothing else existed. it was just his lips, desperate and pleading, and the dizzying sense of wrongness mixing with the confusion in your mind. then, you felt it. his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach, sending a jolt through you like a cold shock of reality. the haze shattered.

you gasped, pulling away, the air in your lungs burning as the weight of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. this wasn’t just a kiss anymore. this was something far deeper, something you weren’t ready for. before you could fully react, jungwon moved over you, his body pressing you down into the mattress, caging you beneath him. his weight pinned you in place, his arms braced on either side of your head, trapping you. he kissed you again, more frantic this time, his desperation growing with every second that passed. “jungwon, stop,” you tried to say, but the words barely made it out, muffled by his lips, by the weight of everything that was happening too fast, too intensely. the room felt smaller, closing in around you as his kisses became more urgent, his hands wandering with a hunger that made your skin crawl. you needed to stop this. you had to stop this. but he wasn’t stopping.

"please," jungwon’s voice cracked as he pulled back, a thin trail of saliva connecting your lips, his eyes wide with desperation. "i need you... i need this. don’t leave me alone… not like this.

and then you felt it—his hips pressing against yours, the hard outline of his cock rubbing insistently against your thigh. your body froze, shock rippling through every inch of you. he was so hard, the pressure of him grinding into you undeniable, suffocating. your breath hitched as you felt his desperation, his need, pressing into you like a weight you couldn’t shake. you hated it—the way your skin flushed under his touch, how your body reacted, betraying you. and the look on his face—pained, desperate, so full of need—made it harder to pull away. it made everything harder. his movements became more determined, the friction between you building with each desperate grind of his hips. his head fell back, a low groan tearing from his lips, his jaw slack as if he was already lost to the sensation. his eyes fluttered shut, and just the sight of him like this—grinding against you, looking like he could cum just from that alone—had you crumbling. "wait—" you breathed, voice barely a whisper, trying to regain control, but your own breath was coming in short, uneven gasps, mirroring the intensity he was pressing onto you. it was too much. he was too much. and worst of all—you didn’t completely hate it. and that terrified you.

"please, let me," jungwon begged, his voice rough, full of raw emotion. his eyes burned into yours, overwhelming, trapping you beneath his gaze. his lips trembled as he kissed you again, softer this time, like he was asking for permission with each touch, pleading with you to let him keep going. "i can't," you managed to whisper, shaking your head, trying to fight through the fog of his touch, but your body felt weak, pinned beneath his weight. "you were kissing me back," jungwon insisted, his voice hardening as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “you liked it. don’t deny it.”

"no, jungwon, i—" your voice faltered, struggling to form words, but he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that made it hard to breathe. "you were," he repeated, his hands cupping your face, his fingers trembling against your skin. "stop lying to yourself, y/n." his words twisted inside your chest, sending your thoughts spiraling. the confusion, the guilt—it all mixed with the undeniable pull of the moment, the years of repressed feelings now breaking free, crashing down around you in waves too strong to resist. "this isn’t right," you whispered, your hands gripping his shirt, half trying to push him away, half holding him closer. you were torn, the weight of the situation crashing into the undeniable connection between you.

"but it feels right, doesn’t it?" jungwon murmured, his lips finding yours again, kissing you deeply, slowly, like he was savoring the taste of you, as if this was his last chance. you gasped into the kiss, your hands sliding down to his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself kiss him back, fully aware of the line you were crossing. but as soon as you did, the weight of reality slammed into you, and you pulled away, breathless, shaking your head. jungwon’s eyes darkened as he hovered over you, his hands roaming your sides, fingers slipping under your shirt, grazing your bare skin. "you don’t hate it,” he whispered, his voice low, dangerous, “i can feel it."

his words slithered into your mind, clouding your thoughts, blurring the lines you had promised yourself you’d never cross. his touch—too close, too much—made you tremble, and the way he looked at you... it was dangerous. your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic beat of fear and something you didn’t want to admit. "this isn’t right... jay—" you started, your voice cracking under the weight of it all, but as soon as you said jay’s name, jungwon’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "he's not here. i am." his voice was sharp, final, as he leaned in, dragging his tongue slowly up your neck, making your body shudder involuntarily. "doesn’t it feel good?” his hands roamed rougher now, his fingers sneaking further under your shirt, brushing against your skin with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. “i can make you feel so fucking good... you know i’m right."

his tongue flicked over your ear, making your breath catch in your throat, your gasp betraying you. his mouth moved down to your neck, sucking hard, marking you in a way that made your stomach twist with both guilt and something darker.

you pushed weakly at his shoulders, your hands trembling, but he was stronger, catching your wrists and pinning them down as his mouth continued its slow, torturous path down your body. his nose brushed against your shirt as he lifted it slightly, his tongue dragging in slow, teasing stripes along your stomach like he was savoring every second. you arched into the sensation, a broken moan slipping from your lips, and jungwon groaned in response, the sound of your pleasure spurring him on. just as you felt yourself slipping further, the image of jay flashed in your mind, cold and sobering. jungwon noticed immediately, his eyes snapping up to yours, his expression darkening as he read your thoughts before you could even voice them. "no, no," he whispered, moving back up to your lips, kissing you again, desperate to keep you from pulling away. "you're thinking about him again, aren’t you?" his breath was hot against your ear, his frustration bleeding into his words. “but you’re my brother…” the words slipped out, weak and trembling, as you tried to grasp onto some semblance of reality, something to hold onto, some line that shouldn’t be crossed. your chest tightened, the weight of everything crashing down on you as you looked at him—jungwon, the boy you had grown up with, the person who should have been your safety, your boundary.

jungwon froze for a split second, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw something break inside him—a flash of vulnerability that shattered the hardness in his expression. but it was gone as quickly as it came. his grip on your waist tightened, like he was afraid you’d slip away from him, like losing you was a possibility he couldn’t bear. "i never wanted to be," he whispered, his voice raw, and those five words hit you like a blow to the chest. there was no hesitation, no regret, only a desperate need. his lips found yours again, softer this time but still so urgent, so desperate. he kissed you like he was trying to erase your words, trying to make you forget everything—your boundaries, jay, and the storm of emotions that surrounded you both. your eyes squeezed shut, your entire body trembling as his lips moved against yours. but even as you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you retreat. “look at me,” he whispered, his voice shaky yet filled with quiet authority, a plea buried deep within the demand. “please, y/n. look at me.” you kept your eyes shut tight, resisting, clinging to whatever was left of your resolve. “i can’t… i can’t do this to jay,” you breathed, voice barely holding together as you tried to escape the hold jungwon had over you. but jungwon wasn’t stopping. he kissed along your neck, slow, deliberate, each kiss sending a jolt through your body. “jay doesn’t have to know,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, the warmth of him wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

his lips trailed up your cheek, his hands cradling your face with such tenderness it made your heart ache. the contrast of his desperation and his soft touch was overwhelming. he bit down on your bottom lip, gently but firm enough to make you gasp, and before you could stop yourself, a low moan slipped out. he paused at the sound, and in that split second, you felt everything shift. he saw it—the way you were faltering, the way your body was betraying you. “see?” he whispered, his lips hovering inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “you want this too.” "he’s not here, y/n. jay doesn’t have to know," jungwon repeated, but this time his voice cracked, and you could hear the rawness in it—the pain, the need. "i’m right here. i’ve always been here." "no..." you whispered weakly, but even you weren’t sure if you believed it anymore. jungwon’s hand slipped down, his fingers sliding under your waistband, finding your soaked core. you gasped, your body betraying you again as his fingers teased you, slipping inside slowly. he groaned softly, his lips curling into a dark smirk as he felt how wet you were. "then why are you so wet for me?" his voice was low, dangerous, as he pushed deeper. "fuck, you’re soaked... all for me."

you whimpered, your body arching into him, even as your mind screamed at you to stop. "why?" you choked out, your voice trembling, your eyes pleading for answers. "why are you doing this?" jungwon pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes locked on yours, full of raw emotion—something deeper, something darker. "because i love you." his confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, your heart pounding, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his words sank in. you hadn’t realized, you hadn’t seen it, hadn’t felt it before. but now? now everything made sense. "jungwon..." you whispered, your hands weakly gripping his shirt, the guilt and confusion twisting tighter around you. "i didn’t know... i didn’t realize..." "you never saw me," he whispered, his voice barely holding together, his lips just inches from yours. the sadness in his eyes was unbearable, cutting through you like a knife. "not the way i needed you to. but i’ve seen you, every single day. every second. i’ve loved you, y/n. even when it fucking hurt, even when i tried to stay away. but i can’t anymore."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, the full force of his heartbreak crashing into you. you could feel it now—the years of silent suffering, the way he’d watched from the shadows, wanting you, needing you, and you never even noticed. it tore at you, unraveling everything you thought you knew. "i... i don’t know what to say," you stammered, your mind spinning, everything unraveling at once. guilt, confusion, and the weight of his confession pressed down on you, suffocating, leaving you gasping for air. "you don’t have to say anything... just let me have you," he whispered, his voice breaking as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, soft and hesitant, like he was scared you’d push him away again. "that’s all i’m asking."

his forehead rested against yours, his body trembling as he held you close, his breath uneven, each second stretching out painfully. there was no more hiding. this was him—raw, broken, vulnerable—and he was asking for everything. the guilt hit you hard, like a wave pulling you under. you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just lust for him. this was years of repressed feelings, of unspoken love, of obsession. he had loved you in silence for so long, and now he was laying it all out in front of you, begging for just a moment of validation, for you to see him. and as you stared into his tear-streaked eyes, you couldn’t deny it anymore. you couldn’t pretend. there had been something between you, once, twice... maybe more times than you wanted to admit. and now, with everything out in the open, it was all crashing down on you. you couldn’t look away. you couldn’t push him away. he was too close, too raw, and every second you stayed, every breath you shared, the line between right and wrong blurred even more. "please," he whispered again, his voice so broken, so full of everything he’d held inside for so long. and as his lips brushed yours again, you felt yourself slipping, falling into him, into the years of unspoken desire and love that had always been there, waiting for you to see it.

"jungwon..." your voice cracked, tears welling up in your eyes. "i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry."

the words barely had a chance to settle before you kissed him. your lips crashed into his, the storm of emotions inside you spilling over, unable to hold back any longer. jungwon froze for a split second, his breath hitching, and then he was on you, kissing you back with a desperation that made your heart ache. he groaned against your mouth, his body trembling like this was the moment he’d been waiting for his entire life. and maybe, in his mind, it was. his hands clamped down on your waist, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you so close that you could barely breathe. his kiss was everything—years of longing, of frustration, heartbreak—all spilling out at once. and now that you were kissing him back, now that he had you, it was like something inside him was breaking apart and being put back together at the same time.

he kissed you like it was his last chance, like he was drowning and this was his only way to breathe. his tongue slid into your mouth, greedy, devouring every sound you made, groaning deep in his chest like this was everything he had ever wanted. the meaningless girls, the distractions, none of it had ever come close to this. you were all he had ever wanted. his touch ignited something in you too—something raw, something you’d buried deep. your body responded to him, the heat of his hands on your skin setting your nerves on fire, and you couldn’t help but kiss him deeper, harder.

his lips trailed down to your neck, biting, sucking, marking you, and with every gasp that escaped your mouth, he lost a little more control. "fuck," jungwon groaned, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slipped under your shirt, his touch rough, frantic. he was losing himself in you, piece by piece, every touch unraveling something inside him that had been locked away for too long.

and now, now that he had you, he wasn’t sure if he could ever let go. his fingers grazed your skin, and you arched into him, your body betraying you with a soft gasp that only spurred him on. his grip tightened, and the kiss deepened, his need pouring into you, relentless. he tugged at your shirt, your clothes, desperate to feel more of you, to claim more of you. he had waited so long for this moment—watched for so long. the fantasies, the dreams, the nights spent watching you from a distance, imagining this. nothing compared to the reality of having you beneath him, of hearing your moans, of feeling your body give in to his touch. his breath caught as he realized—you were giving in. you wanted him. your hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him closer, and it was like a switch flipped in him. his lips curled into a smirk against your skin as he kissed you harder, his movements growing more aggressive, more possessive.

oh. yes.

you gasped, breathless, as his lips pressed harder against yours, his hips grinding against you. this was what he had wanted all along, what he had craved. his cock was hard, straining against his clothes, and he groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your waist, his grip possessive, as if he was afraid you’d disappear. "fuck," he breathed, his voice low, dangerous, his lips brushing your ear. "you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this." his hips pressed into yours, grinding slowly, teasingly, his fingers slipping down to tug at your shorts. "hurry," you gasped, your breath shaky and uneven, the urgency in your voice sending a thrill through him. his body stilled for a moment, his eyes darkening, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he kissed along your neck. "oh, that’s it," he muttered, his voice deep, rough. "so eager. so fucking eager." his teeth sank into your skin, harder this time, bruising. it wasn’t just a bite; it was a claim. his hands moved with purpose now, one pinning your wrists above your head, the other pulling at your clothes, his grip tight, possessive. you were his, and he was going to make sure you knew it. the darkness in him started to bleed through, inch by inch. his touches grew rougher, his kisses more frantic. he was unraveling before your eyes, losing control, losing himself in you.

his hips rocked harder against yours, the friction sending shockwaves through you, another moan tearing from your throat. but something was shifting in him—something darker, something that made you shudder beneath him. he was losing himself, bit by bit, and he wasn’t going to stop. "fuck," he growled, his breath hot against your neck, his voice filled with raw need. "you don’t know what you’ve done to me. i’ve been waiting... waiting so fucking long." his hips pressed harder into you, rougher, the tension between you unbearable now. his grip on your wrists tightened, pinning you harder against the bed, and you could feel it—the desperation, the obsession, the years of longing finally boiling over. "i’m not letting you go," jungwon muttered, his voice dark, a promise that made your stomach twist. his lips crashed against yours again, his kiss a mix of need and frustration, his control slipping further and further away.

"you think jay could ever make you feel like this?" jungwon hissed into your ear, his breath hot and jagged, the words slicing through the air like a challenge. his voice was low, darker than you had ever heard it, filled with a jealousy and possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. the roughness of his movements took you by surprise, the sudden intensity catching you off guard. a thrill shot through you at the way he was taking control, but the mention of jay—your boyfriend, miles away—sent a wave of guilt crashing through you. then you looked up at jungwon. really looked at him. his face was twisted, contorted in a way you’d never seen before. the softness you had always known was gone, replaced by something unrecognizable. his eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on madness, a wild, unhinged hunger that seemed to consume him. your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous tightening in your stomach. this wasn’t the boy you knew. this was something else, something darker, and yet the way he dominated you, the way he held you down, had you teetering on the edge of wanting more. "he couldn’t even eat you out after you gave him the suck of his life." jungwon’s voice was sharp, almost mocking, but laced with something more sinister, something dangerous.

your eyes flew open at his words, panic rising in your chest. how did he know? your voice trembled as you spoke, "what? how do you know that?" the room felt like it was closing in on you, the tension suffocating. no one should have known, no one could have seen or heard that moment. your breath hitched as fear crept up your spine. jungwon's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something you couldn’t place. he leaned in closer, his body pressing harder against yours. "i know everything, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and chilling, his gaze locking onto yours with a twisted sense of satisfaction. it was like he was savoring your fear, relishing in the control he had over you. you tried to pull away, panic tightening in your chest, but jungwon’s grip only grew stronger. in one swift motion, he yanked your shorts down, making you yelp, the action so rough it left you breathless. "you didn’t think i’d just sit back and let him have you, did you?" his voice was taunting now, a cruel edge to his words. "i’ve been watching. every little thing."

the reality of his words slammed into you, and your heart raced with panic. watching? how? "w-what do you mean? how?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as his weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, keeping you pinned beneath him. jungwon straddled you, his eyes dark and unreadable, but there was something more there now, something sinister lurking just beneath the surface. your heart pounded as his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up roughly to reveal your bra. before you could react, he snapped one of the straps against your skin, the sting sharp, causing you to gasp. your body reacted against your will, a flush of heat rising under your skin. "wouldn't you like to know?" jungwon's smirk grew, his eyes dancing with dark amusement, like this was all a game to him—a twisted, dangerous game that only he understood. fear and confusion clouded your thoughts, but there was something else there, something darker stirring inside you. despite the fear, the way he had complete control over you—his dominance, the weight of his body trapping you—had your pulse quickening in ways you didn’t expect. "jungwon, i’m not fucking around," you snapped, your voice shaky but firm, trying to mask the panic that was threatening to overtake you. your hands pushed against his chest, but he was unmovable, his body keeping you pinned beneath him, helpless.

"how were you watching?" you demanded, the question barely leaving your lips as your breath hitched. you needed to know, needed to understand what was happening. jungwon’s smirk didn’t waver. in fact, it seemed to grow darker. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "i have my ways." the words sent a chill down your spine, his tone dripping with arrogance. his hips shifted, pressing harder against you, reminding you just how trapped you were. your breath caught as his fingers trailed down your stomach, the heat of his touch setting off a reaction in your body that you didn’t want to acknowledge. "you’re so curious," he teased, his voice growing darker, more dangerous. "but maybe you should focus on how you’re feeling right now." "you’re getting wetter, aren’t you?" he taunted, his voice low, dripping with satisfaction. your body betrayed you, reacting to his dominance, the way he controlled every moment, every touch. anger flared up, but it was mixed with something else—something you couldn’t shake, something primal and terrifying. and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong.

your body heated under his touch, despite the fear clawing at the edges of your mind. every part of you wanted to scream, wanted to fight back, but you were frozen, pinned beneath him, powerless. and jungwon? he saw it all. he saw your hesitation, your fear, the way your body responded to him. his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he watched you unravel beneath him. "he couldn’t give you this," he muttered, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "he could never make you feel like this." his words were venomous, biting, but they sank into your skin, embedding themselves in your thoughts. you wanted to hate him, to push him away, but with every touch, every word, he was pulling you deeper into his world. "answer me," you spat, trying to steady your voice, but it wavered, betraying the whirlwind of confusion inside you. jungwon’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. instead of answering, he laughed, low and dark, his hands sliding back up to your bra, tugging at the fabric with a casual cruelty.

"oh, i’ve been watching you for a long time, y/n," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something far beyond what you thought you knew of him. "all those times you thought you were alone… you weren’t." his words sent a chill crawling down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat. this wasn’t some sudden madness; this had been brewing inside him for longer than you realized. his fingers moved swiftly, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside like it meant nothing. his eyes darkened as he stared at your exposed chest, a satisfied moan slipping from his lips like he’d finally gotten what he’d been craving. without hesitation, his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hungrily, possessively. the heat of his mouth sent shockwaves through you, your body arching into him before your mind could catch up to what was happening. “knew these tits were perfect,” he mumbled between rough kisses and bites, his voice thick with arousal. his hands bunched your breasts together, squeezing as his tongue flicked between them. the intensity overwhelmed you, your skin heating under his touch, the sensation building into something you couldn’t control. before you could even catch your breath, his lips crashed back onto yours, demanding, relentless. his kiss was rough, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and despite the confusion clouding your thoughts, you found yourself kissing him back, matching his need with your own.

but even as your body responded to his touch, your mind was spinning—caught between the heat of the moment and the sickening realization that something was deeply, deeply wrong. jungwon pulled back just enough to smirk, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, teasing you. "you’re still trying to figure this out, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice soft but full of twisted control. "tell me, won," you demanded, trying to push through the fog of your mind, daring him to either stop or take things further. your pulse quickened as you spoke, hating how your voice faltered. his eyes narrowed, something dark flickering in his expression, but there was a glint of excitement too, as if he enjoyed the fact that you were pushing back, not just giving in. it only fueled the twisted hunger burning inside him, made him want to tear you apart even more. your heart pounded harder as your body betrayed you, your pussy growing wetter with each passing second, reacting to the way he looked down at you—confident, knowing. like he had you right where he wanted, like he’d always known exactly how to break you down. "i know how you hated how bad jeongin was at eating you out," jungwon’s voice dripped with amusement, his eyes never leaving yours, "but you forgave him, didn’t you? because he was cute." your body froze, how did he know that? your heart raced, panic bubbling up inside you, but jungwon leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. "how?" you asked, your voice trembling with disbelief, your mind racing to piece together the puzzle. but jungwon didn’t stop. his fingers moved between your legs, slipping through your slick folds effortlessly, and a sharp hiss escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were for him.

"fuck," he groaned, pulling his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfaction that sent shivers through your entire body. his cock strained against his pants, the bulge pressing hard against you, reminding you what was coming next. "and kai," he continued, his voice dripping with that same twisted smirk, "you hated how he made you swallow his cum, didn’t you? because it tasted gross." he was revealing things no one should know, secrets you had buried deep. you squirmed beneath him, your mind reeling. how did he know these intimate details? things you never told anyone, not even your closest friends. his hand slid back between your legs, his fingers teasing your clit, rubbing slow circles as you struggled to stay in control. "but here you are," he murmured, his voice low, full of twisted satisfaction, "so fucking wet for me." "you pervert," you spat, but your voice lacked the bite you wanted it to have. your body was betraying you, responding to his touch even as your mind screamed that this was wrong. "were you listening in on me? when i was talking to yuna?" the memories of those conversations, those private confessions you had shared with your friend, rushed back to you. the thought of him listening in, lurking, sent a wave of nausea through you.

jungwon’s smirk grew darker, more twisted. "every word," he whispered, his fingers working your clit faster, his voice laced with a sick satisfaction. "while you thought you were alone, spilling your secrets to yuna, i was right there. hearing everything."

his free hand came down on your breasts, slapping them just enough to make them bounce, before gripping one firmly, his tongue licking his lips sinfully. he was savoring every reaction, every shudder of your body beneath him. "but i bet you're dying to know how." jungwon’s voice was low, teasing, as he toyed with you, his fingers slipping inside you again, deeper this time. your slick coated his knuckles as he pumped in and out, your body betraying you completely. "how?" you whispered, your breath shaky, barely able to form the words. the pressure between your legs was building, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge despite the horror of what he was saying. without warning, jungwon pulled away, leaving you gasping for breath, your body trembling with need. he stood up, quickly tugging his shirt off, revealing his toned chest. your eyes followed the movement.

you sat up slightly, your eyes locked on his body. "just tell me how?" you asked again, more urgently this time. "does it really matter?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. his body pressed down on yours, heavy and dominant, as he rocked his hips against you, letting you feel the full hardness of his cock through his pants. "you’re here, pussy dripping," jungwon's voice was dripping with twisted satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with something darker, more manic, as he watched you squirm beneath him. "about to fuck your stepbrother." his words hung in the air like a confession, dark and sinister, and you realized—he had been watching you, listening, lurking in the shadows for far longer than you ever could have imagined. jungwon moved, pushing off the bed to stand for a brief second before he settled back down, lying flat against the mattress. his eyes, dark and unrelenting, never left yours, watching every breath, every flicker of hesitation that crossed your face. the weight of his gaze felt like a physical force, pinning you in place.

"come here," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. his head rested against the pillow, one hand lazily trailing down his chest, teasing himself, as if he had all the time in the world. "sit on my face, y/n. maybe then i’ll tell you everything." "you’re fucking insane," you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to keep some semblance of control. but even as the words left your mouth, you could feel the heat between your legs, the undeniable ache that had been building ever since his hands had been on you. jungwon didn’t flinch. if anything, his smirk deepened, that dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "maybe," he admitted, his tone almost casual, like he was discussing the weather. "but i’m a man of my word. i’m not going to let you get all wet like this and not take responsibility for it."

his voice dropped lower, more commanding, as his hand slid lower, trailing down to his pants, his fingers teasing the waistband. "or would you rather stop this now?" he challenged, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to make the choice. "because i’ll stop if you want me to." you sat frozen, your mind screaming at you to walk away, to leave before it was too late, but your body… your body wanted something else. your pulse quickened, heat pooling low in your stomach as jungwon’s eyes stayed fixed on yours, waiting, anticipating. "come on, y/n," jungwon whispered, his voice taking on that seductive edge, his body shifting, as if inviting you in. "you know you don’t want this to stop." he licked his lips, his tongue flicking out slowly, teasingly. "you want it. just admit it." "you’re such a fucking asshole," you muttered, your voice low, barely above a whisper, but your legs were already moving, your body acting before your mind could catch up.

jungwon’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he watched you, his hands sliding up to rest on your thighs as you straddled him, your body trembling with anticipation. "yeah?" he murmured, his voice rough and thick with desire. "but i’m your fucking asshole, aren’t i?" the second you settled over him, hovering just above his face, jungwon’s hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you down slowly, his breath hot against your core. "that’s it," he whispered, his voice low and dark, sending a thrill through you. "you’re gonna ride my face, and i’ll tell you everything you want to know." you hesitated for just a second, the last flicker of doubt crossing your mind, but then his tongue flicked out, teasing the edge of your folds, and the hesitation melted away in an instant. your head fell back, a soft gasp escaping your lips as the heat of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. "fuck," you whispered, your fingers curling into his soft hair as jungwon’s tongue slid between your folds, teasing and tasting you. flicking your clit, tracing circles on it. his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he licked deeper, groaning softly against your skin. your body trembled, every nerve on fire as jungwon worked you with expert precision, his tongue moving in slow, then picking up. the intensity of it all—the heat, the sensation, the control—was overwhelming, consuming you completely. and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, jungwon pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your core as he whispered, "you taste fucking perfect."

your breath hitched, your heart racing in your chest as his words sank in, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. his tongue returned with renewed intensity, his hands gripping your thighs tighter, pulling you down harder against his face, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe. he was relentless, and you were lost. "tell me," you gasped, your voice shaky, barely holding together as his tongue worked you over and over again. "tell me everything." jungwon groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body as he looked up at you, his eyes dark, filled with something dangerous, something wild. "after i make you cum, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you even closer. "then i'll tell you everything." and you knew, as the pleasure built higher and higher, that you were too far gone to stop now. "shit," jungwon moaned against your pussy, his voice thick with desperation, his eyes rolling back as if he were lost in the taste of you. the sound of him, so consumed by you, had you throwing your head back, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

"finally," he groaned, barely pulling away to speak, his lips brushing against your swollen folds, "you let me eat your pussy." his words were raw, dripping with satisfaction, but there was an edge to them, something darker, something possessive. his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a split second, a twisted smirk pulling at his lips. "but jay never got a chance to try, did he?" he added, his tone mocking, taunting. it was like he was relishing in the thought of jay being left out, being second to him. the mention of jay made your stomach twist with guilt, but before you could respond, jungwon's mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing a slick path that had you gasping.

you jerked as his tongue flicked over your puckered hole, the sensation sudden, intense, making your entire body tense on top of him. jungwon's moans vibrated against your skin, deep and primal, as he prodded his tongue against your tight hole. it was overwhelming—everything about him, the way he touched you, the way he tasted you, his hunger for you. "you’ve never let anyone fuck your ass, have you?" his voice was a low growl, filled with smug satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. his eyes gleamed with dark desire, and the way he said it—it was like a promise, a claim. he had already decided what he wanted, and he wasn’t asking for permission. "but you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?" his voice was manic, dripping with that same twisted hunger, unable to move, unable to think. his hand gripped your hip tightly as his tongue slid back over your hole, teasing you again, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. you couldn’t stop trembling, the mix of shock and heat building inside you, spiraling out of control. "i bet teddy didn’t feel half of what i’m feeling right now. the way you’re grinding on me, using me, just like you used to use him—except i can make you come for real." what? jungwon's voice was dark, teasing, but you could barely process his words, too busy trembling from the way his tongue continued to lick and lap at your soaked pussy.

"i’m gonna take every fucking part of you," he growled, his tongue swirling around your asshole before sliding back up to your pussy. "fuck every single one of your holes and fill it with my cum," he continued, his words thick with lust, his voice dark and commanding. "you’d like that, wouldn’t you?" a moan ripped from your throat, raw and uncontrollable, and before you could even process it, his palm came down hard against your ass, the sting sharp and immediate. the force of it made your muscles clench, and your whole body jerked forward. you could feel his grip tighten on your ass, spreading you even more as he leaned in again, licking a slow, deliberate path from your asshole to your pussy, leaving you gasping for air. "fuck, jungwon—" you struggled, trying to move, to regain some kind of control, but he was too strong. he pulled away from your pussy suddenly, replacing his tongue with the brutal force of his fingers, thrusting into you hard and fast.

the obscene sound of your wetness filled the room, mixing with your ragged breaths and the slap of his hand on your thigh. your legs shook, barely able to keep up with the intensity building inside you. "i know you can fucking squirt," jungwon hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes wild with lust. his jaw was slack, and his expression was hungry, like he was devouring every reaction you gave him. "come on," he growled, his fingers pumping deeper, harder. "fucking squirt all over me." your body couldn’t hold back any longer. you exploded, squirting in violent, uncontrollable bursts, your juices splashing against his chest, down his neck, his face. jungwon didn’t flinch—if anything, he groaned, deep and guttural, as he licked up every drop, his tongue greedy, relentless. "f-fuck, stop," you whimpered, your body trembling uncontrollably as waves of overstimulation crashed over you. your vision blurred, your muscles weak as you tried to crawl away, desperate for a break, for some relief. but jungwon wasn’t about to let you go. his hand shot out, gripping your ankle, yanking you back. "where do you think you're going?" he growled, a crazed look in his eyes as he towered over you. his hand moved to his pants, pulling his cock free, and the sight of it—hard, thick, dripping—sent another wave of heat coursing through your body. he stroked himself slowly, pre-cum leaking from the tip, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sent shivers through your entire body. his grip tightened on your hair, keeping you in place, the raw obsession in his gaze making your breath hitch.

"look at me," jungwon demanded, his hand forced your head up, and your eyes immediately fell on the sight of him stroking his cock, thick and hard right in front of your face. "you see this?" he hissed, his breath shaky, almost unhinged. "you fucking did this to me." "you’re going to take every fucking inch of me," he growled, his eyes burning with hunger as he leaned closer, his cock brushing your lips, daring you. "you hear that?" your lips parted unconsciously, your tongue flicking out to wet them, and jungwon noticed immediately, a wicked smirk twisting at the corners of his mouth. "that’s it…" he groaned, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. "you want it, don’t you?" you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. your mind was swirling, caught between the reality of how far things had gone and the way your body responded to his touch, to his words. "open up," he commanded, his voice steady, his gaze never wavering. "i want to feel that pretty little mouth wrapped around me while you fucking choke on it."

the words sent a shiver down your spine. he was watching you closely, waiting, his fingers still tight in your hair as he pressed his cock to your lips again, pushing against them, demanding more. he didn’t wait for you to respond, his hand pushing your head down as he slid his cock into your mouth without hesitation. you barely had time to process the size of him, thick and overwhelming, as he filled your mouth completely. your hands shot up, instinctively gripping his thighs, but jungwon didn’t slow down. he was relentless, thrusting into your mouth harder, faster, giving you no time to adjust. you gagged, struggling to take him, your eyes watering as he pushed deeper, but jungwon’s grip only tightened, holding you in place as he groaned low in his throat, lost in the sensation. "that’s it, fucking choke on it," he snarled, his voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. "you wanted this, didn’t you?" you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even breathe as his cock hit the back of your throat, choking you. your hands pressed against his thighs, trying to push him back, but he didn’t relent. his hips bucked against your mouth, forcing you to take more of him, his voice harsh, possessive. "you’re gonna take all of me," he growled, his eyes wild as he watched you struggle beneath him, his fingers digging into your scalp. "you think i’m gonna stop now? after all this? after everything you’ve done to me?" his voice cracked with intensity, his obsession bubbling over, too much to contain.

your tears mixed with spit, dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth with ruthless abandon, his groans filling the air, echoing off the walls. "you look like such a fucking mess," he taunted, his voice thick with lust, but there was something more underneath, something twisted and broken. "drooling all over my cock like the slut you are." his words hit you like a blow, raw and degrading, but there was no denying the way your body reacted, the way your core tightened with every filthy insult, with every thrust that left you gasping for air. "you can’t even take half of me," he groaned, his cock stretching your mouth painfully, but there was no room to stop, no room to even breathe. "but you’ll fucking learn. you’ll learn how to take every inch of me." his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, and the sounds of your gagging only seemed to fuel him further. "i’m gonna make you my fucking whore," jungwon growled, his words filled with possessiveness, his hand gripping your hair tighter, forcing you to take him deeper until you thought you might pass out from lack of air. and then, just when you thought he couldn’t push further, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for breath, your throat burning, your body trembling. your lips were swollen, wet, as you tried to steady yourself, but jungwon didn’t give you a chance to recover. he leaned down down to cage you between his arms, his bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his body overwhelming, suffocating. his breath ghosted over your ear, “you’re mine,” he growled, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you beneath him. “and you fucking know it. tell me how much you want it.”

your mind was spinning, your body reacting instinctively, “i want it, jungwon. i want you.” a smirk curled on his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, he completely had you. “fucking filthy for me,” he murmured, voice low and tainted with pride. “and i haven’t even started yet.” “you think jay or any of those other idiots came even close?" his lips brushed your ear, and he spoke again, darker this time. "i’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll forget every single one of them. my cock’s the only one you’ll ever need." and then, he pushed inside, the stretch brutal, tearing a gasp from your throat. the sensation was overwhelming, too much, but it was exactly what you craved. your body arched beneath him, caught between the overwhelming pleasure and the creeping horror as his words sunk in. he had been watching. always watching.

"i’ve seen it all, and it's so much better than just sitting in front of my screen every night, getting myself off," jungwon muttered, his voice low, dripping with satisfaction. "every fucking time you let them touch you. every single moment you thought you were alone—i was watching." screen? your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest as the pieces began to fall into place. “you... what the fuck—how?” you gasped, horror flooding through you as the reality of what he said hit. “you were watching me?” jungwon’s pace never faltered, each thrust brutal and relentless. he locked eyes with you, dark and unapologetic. “yeah,” he sneered. “you didn’t think i’d let those assholes have you without making sure they weren’t fucking you up, did you? i had to make sure they didn’t hurt you. had to make sure you stayed mine.” "you had a fucking camera?" your voice cracked, the disbelief seeping into every word as the air between you turned suffocating.

he grinned darkly, eyes glinting with a manic edge. “yeah, i had a camera. more than one.” your heart pounded against your chest, anger and fear warring inside you. you tried to push him off, but your body, treacherous and betraying, moved with his rhythm. "jungwon, that’s... sick," you hissed, your voice trembling, but it didn’t stop your body from arching into him, from clenching around him as his thrusts became even more punishing. his hand shot up, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. "shut up," he growled, his face inches from yours, "you don’t get it, do you? i didn’t fucking care about them. i did this for you. no one else could touch you like this. no one else deserves you." your hands pressed against his chest, trying to fight back, but every thrust had you gasping for air, your thoughts blurring in the haze of pleasure and disgust. “you’re fucking sick, jungwon,” you managed to choke out.

he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over your ear, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “yeah? i’m sick?” he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. “then why are you so fucking wet for me? you didn’t stop fucking against me, even after everything.” his words were twisted, taunting, but you couldn’t deny it. the shame twisted inside you, mixing with the pleasure coursing through your veins. "fuck off," you spat, but your voice lacked conviction, your body betraying the truth of what you were feeling. jungwon grinned, pulling back slightly to look down at you, his eyes gleaming with that same dark satisfaction. “you think i don’t know what you do when you’re alone?” he whispered, his voice low and mocking. “you think i didn’t see the way you fucked that teddy bear i got you, grinding against it like a desperate little slut, rubbing yourself raw until you came?” your stomach dropped, humiliation crashing over you in waves as the truth sank in. so that's what he meant earlier, the words flying by because you were too lost in pleasure, fuck, he'd really seen everything. you recall his words. "i bet teddy didn’t feel half of what i’m feeling right now. the way you’re grinding on me, using me, just like you used to use him—except i can make you come for real." "you... you’re disgusting," you stammered, the shame burning through your skin, but jungwon wasn’t fazed. he continued to fuck you, his hand reaching down to rub circles against your clit. but you slap his hand away, and he just smirks.

“yeah, maybe i am,” he groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he pounded into you harder, drowning in the feeling of your tight, trembling walls wrapped around him. “but you’re mine. and you fucking love it.” his hand slid down to your throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch, his smirk widening as he saw the effect it had on you. “you’re never going to need anyone else. just me. say it.” you could barely breathe, let alone think, but even now, through the haze of pleasure and disgust, you couldn’t help but fight back. “i… i hate you—" “wrong fucking answer,” he snarled, his grip on your throat tightening as his hips snapped forward brutally, each thrust shaking you, pushing you deeper into the bed. the sheets tangled beneath you as you gasped for air, every brutal stroke tearing another cry from your lips. “try again. you fucking love this.” despite the storm of emotions flooding your mind—disgust, anger, shame—there was no denying it. the way his cock dragged against your walls, the way your body reacted to his dominance, had you screaming his name, it was sick and twisted, but it was true.

"didn’t you say you love me?" jungwon taunted, full of arrogance as he tightened his grip around your throat. the force of his thrusts had you bouncing against the mattress. “wasn’t that what you said?” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, your body shaking as he pounded into you without mercy. all you could do was grip his arms tighter, pulling him closer, needing more despite the war raging inside you. "answer me," he growled, slamming into you harder, his hips grinding against you as his cock dragged in and out, each thrust more obscene than the last. "didn’t you say you fucking love me?" you tried to speak, but the pressure on your throat made it impossible to get the words out. your breath hitched, your vision blurring as his hand squeezed tighter. finally, you managed to whisper, your voice shaky and broken. “you’re my brother... of course, i—I do—” jungwon’s eyes lit up with a twisted, possessive fire. his grip tightened even more as he watched you, you were breaking, and he loved it. "you're mine," he growled, the intensity in his voice sending another wave of heat through you. "say it." "i’m yours," you gasped, the words spilling out of you, tears streaming down your cheeks as the weight of everything crashed into you. it was true. you were his, and no matter how hard you fought it, there was no escaping it, not anymore when he was balls deep in you giving you pleasure you'd only dreamed of.

that wicked, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard enough to make you wince. the pain mixed with pleasure, sending a shiver down your spine, your moans turning into broken sobs as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. “fuck—” you gasped, barely able to get the word out before he was thrusting into you again, harder, faster, his hips grinding against yours as if he was trying to bury himself deeper, trying to own every inch of you. and maybe he already had. no, he did. he completely owned you. “shit,” jungwon growled, his breath hot and ragged as he pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room. your entire body convulsed, the stretch of him deep inside you was overwhelming, but your body refused to let him go. your walls clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, desperate to feel more of him. “fuck,” you sobbed, nails digging into his back, trying to hold on, but it was no use. he had you completely, and he knew it. "jungwon, i can’t— you’re gonna break me—"

"yes, you can," he snarled, his lips hovering just over yours, his voice dripping with possession. he thrust harder, deeper, making you scream as he pushed past every limit. “you fucking can. i’m not stopping until you’re ruined for anyone else." the sheer force of his words, the raw need in his voice, sent a jolt of heat through you, making your head spin. your moans turned into broken sobs, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him as he drove into you mercilessly, taking you apart piece by piece. you were addicted to him. you came again, violently, your entire body trembling as your release gushed over his cock. your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing down and leaving you gasping for breath, your mind going blank as everything else faded away. jungwon let out a deep, desperate groan, his body shuddering as he felt you clench around him. “fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice thick with crazed lust as he gripped your hips even tighter, bruising your skin. "your fucking pussy—god, it’s perfect. you’re fucking perfect." "you know, i fucking hated jay for touching you," jungwon growled, his pace becoming even more brutal not stopping even if your pussy was already dripping all over the sheets. "letting him fuck you like that. making him cum inside you? is that what you wanted, huh?" his fingers thread through your hair, keeping you pinned down as he licked long stripes up your neck again, obsessed with the way your sweat tasted. “you wanna be a fucking cum dumpster? that what you like? letting them fill you up just so i could fucking watch?"

you whimpered, shaking your head, but your body was betraying you, reacting to his words, to the way he was fucking you. "don’t fucking lie," he spat, his eyes burning with obsession as he pulled back to look at you. "you liked putting on a show for me, didn’t you? i almost think you were doing it on purpose.” “jungwon, no, I—” you tried to protest, your voice trembling, but the pleasure was too intense, every thrust from him stealing the words from your mouth. “letting me watch you get ruined, just so i could want you more,” he sneered. “you’re fucking mine now,” he growled, his voice low and dark, each word dripping with madness. “and i’m gonna make sure jay fucking sees it.” your heart dropped, panic surging through you. “no, jungwon—he can’t,” you gasped, your body trembling as the realization of what he was saying crashed over you. the thought of jay finding out, of seeing you like this, was too much. “he can’t know—" jungwon’s chuckled, "oh, so you want to keep this secret? keep fucking your stepbrother behind his back?" he taunted, his voice cruel, mocking, as he drove himself deeper into you. you choked on a sob, trying to push him away, "jungwon, please—" you begged, your voice breaking, but he wasn’t listening. “what’s the matter?” he taunts, his breath hot against your skin. “scared of what jay would think? scared of what he’d do if he knew you were getting fucked by your stepbrother?”

his grip on your jaw tightened, forcing you to look at him, his eyes wild with obsession. “you don’t get to hide from this,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “you’re mine, and i want everyone to fucking know it.”

you could barely speak, your voice cracking as you pleaded with him. “please, jungwon—he can’t find out—” for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his pace slowing just enough to let you catch your breath, the pressure easing. but then, without warning, he flipped you over, pushing you onto your hands and knees. your arms shook as you tried to hold yourself up, but your body was trembling, weak from everything he’d already done to you. before you could brace yourself, his hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp, your body jerking forward. the sheets twisted beneath you as you struggled to hold yourself up, but jungwon wasn’t giving you any time to recover. “you’re gonna fucking take it,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he lined himself up behind you before roughly facing you to face the foot of your bed. “and you’re gonna scream my name so loud, jay will fucking hear it.” "keep it together," jungwon growled, his hand coming down on your ass again, the sharp slap forcing a yelp from your throat. this time, the sting was harsher, your body jolting under the weight of his dominance. "i'm not fucking done with you." you whimpered, your arms weak, trembling as you tried to push yourself up, but it was useless. your limbs felt like jelly, barely able to hold you together as he lined himself up behind you again. your heart pounded, fear and anticipation swirling in your gut as he slammed into you without warning, driving deep, the angle sending a shock through your entire body. "fuck," you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as he filled you, the stretch almost unbearable. your hands scrambled to grab the sheets, but every thrust made you lose control, your body collapsing beneath him as he continued, merciless. "arch your back," he snarled, gripping your hips and yanking you into position. even as you shook your head, gasping for air, his hold was unyielding, bending you exactly how he wanted. “i can’t—” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure and pain intertwined, his cock hitting places that had you seeing stars. "it's too much—"

"yes, you fucking can," he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks. "i’m not stopping until you can’t take anyone else. until i ruin you for anyone." every word hit like a blow, sending you spiraling, your body teetering on the edge as he pounded into you harder, deeper. you sobbed, your mind a haze of pleasure and panic. your body was betraying you, responding to him, clenching around him like it needed this, needed him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides. and then he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he yanked your head back into a kiss. the kiss was desperate, messy, full of raw hunger. his tongue flicked against yours, and you couldn’t even respond, couldn’t do anything but whimper as his weight crushed you, trapping you beneath him. the position made it harder to breathe, your neck straining, and the angle made every thrust hit deeper, driving you closer to the edge, closer to losing yourself completely. your eyes fluttered shut, your mind trying to escape, but then jungwon’s voice snapped you back. “look.”

you couldn’t. you were too lost, too overwhelmed, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as he kept slamming into you. but he wasn’t giving you a choice. his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head up, and he growled, "open your eyes." you blinked through the haze, confused and trembling. and then you saw it—your teddy bear, sitting on the dresser, its black, unfeeling eyes staring back at you. at first, it didn’t register. what the fuck was he doing? jungwon chuckled darkly behind you, his breath hot against your neck. "say hi," he whispered, amusement dripping from his voice, sending a chill down your spine. "say hi?" you repeated, confusion cutting through the fog of pleasure. your voice was broken, barely audible. "i don't—" “smile for the camera,” he taunted, his tone turning cruel, dark amusement coloring every word. “come on, he's watching.” your stomach dropped, horror twisting inside you like a knife. jay was watching this?

you moaned, but not from pleasure—this time, it was from sheer humiliation. the sound ripped from your throat as your eyes locked onto the faint red blinking light in the teddy bear's eyes. panic surged through you, icy and cold, the realization hitting you like a truck. jay was watching. live. the toy that had been a source of comfort for you, the one you used to hold onto during sleepless nights, had been turned into something twisted, something ugly. you became hysterical, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath jungwon’s relentless thrusts. "no, no, no," you sobbed, your voice breaking as the tears streamed down your face. but there was no escape. your mind was spiraling, torn between disgust, shame, and the unbearable sensation of jungwon still fucking you, not letting up. "what's wrong?" jungwon’s voice was low, mocking, dripping with sick amusement as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you feel every inch of him. "you don’t wanna tell jay how good i'm fucking you?" your body betrayed you, clenching around him, even as the tears kept falling, even as the humiliation consumed you. you couldn’t stop it. you couldn’t fight back. jungwon’s hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your sobs as he pounded into you harder, more ruthless, more relentless. the weight of everything crashed down on you—jay was watching, seeing you like this. you wouldn’t be able to face him ever again. the shame burned deep inside you, twisting, making you feel even more exposed, even more ruined.

“open your eyes,” jungwon demanded, his voice rough, filled with dominance, and your eyes snapped open out of reflex. you couldn’t help it. your gaze flickered back to the teddy bear, the red light still blinking, and the full realization of what was happening hit you like a tidal wave. jay was watching you get fucked, wrecked by your stepbrother. and just as jungwon thrust deeper, you felt it—your body giving in, pleasure and pain mixing until you couldn’t tell the difference. your muffled screams were drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin, your body trembling as you clung to the sheets, unable to stop yourself from falling apart. you hated how much your body responded to him, hated how much you needed it, how much you needed him, even as your mind screamed at you to stop. but it was too late. you were already his, and jay was watching. and jungwon wasn’t going to stop until you both knew it. your body betrayed you, clenching tighter around him even as more tears spilled down your cheeks, sobs wracking your chest. you couldn’t process it—the mix of shame, horror, and pleasure tangling into something you couldn’t escape. jay was watching you. seeing you like this. jungwon wasn’t stopping. his hand clamped down over your mouth, muffling your cries as he kept pounding into you, relentless. mind drowning in the flood of emotions crashing over you—humiliation, lust, guilt. how could jay be seeing this? wasn’t he supposed to be away? "you’re lying!" you tried to scream, but jungwon’s hand silenced you, your body jerking with each thrust. the teddy bear, the once comforting presence, was now an unfeeling witness to your destruction, its cold eyes staring blankly as jungwon wrecked you.

you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to escape it all, but it only made the emotions stronger. if jay was really watching this, if he saw you like this, you’d never be able to face him again. the thought burned inside you, making you feel even more exposed, more ruined. "open your fucking eyes," jungwon demanded, his voice dark with control, and your eyes snapped open on instinct. there it was again—the teddy bear. that damned blinking light, red and cruel, blinking like it was mocking you. and just as jungwon drove deeper, your eyes rolled back, moans slipping from your lips, your body betraying every bit of shame and fear as he kept you pinned, fucking you harder than before. "i even got him a present," jungwon grunted, his voice tight, on the edge, his pace turning erratic, desperate. "but i don’t think he’ll want them anymore." your mind shattered under the way he was fucking you. humiliation melted into something raw, something addictive. fuck—this was too good. jungwon fucking you like this was too fucking good. the way he wanted you, the way he claimed you—you were gone. completely. your body shook violently beneath him, each thrust pushing you deeper into a haze of pure need. you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t hold onto anything except the brutal pace of him inside you, each thrust wrecking you in ways you never thought possible. words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.

"jay… i'm sorry," you gasped, voice ragged and desperate, barely able to breathe between each word.

jungwon's grip on your throat tightened, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "sorry? don't fucking apologize," he growled, pulling your face closer to his. "tell him the truth. tell him how good i’m fucking you." “i can’t—” you whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, your body betraying you as you moaned against his hand, your legs quaking as another wave of pleasure hit you. “yes, you can,” jungwon hissed in your ear, his voice low and dangerous, filled with twisted satisfaction. "tell him how good i’m fucking you. tell him who really owns you now." jungwon’s grip tightened, forcing your eyes back to the teddy bear, the blinking red light that reminded you of the truth. "he’s watching, baby," jungwon whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips snapped against yours. "watching you fall apart for me. watching me wreck your pretty little pussy. doesn’t it feel good? doesn’t it feel right?"

every thrust, every degrading word spilling from jungwon’s lips—he was right. you fucking loved it. "tell him," jungwon coaxed, his voice soft now, almost soothing as his hand slid down your body, his fingers circling your clit. "tell him how much you love it." "jay," you sobbed, your voice ragged, trembling. "i… i—fuck, i love it." the words slipped out before you could stop them, your body arching beneath jungwon, completely surrendering. jungwon’s grin widened, his satisfaction palpable as he fucked you harder, his fingers working faster on your clit, driving you to the brink. "good girl," he whispered, his voice dripping with approval. "now tell him you're mine. tell him who really owns you." "i’m yours," you choked out, your voice breaking as the words left your lips. "i’m yours, jungwon." his thrusts grew erratic, desperate, and you felt him twitch inside you, his breathing ragged as he chased his release. "that’s right," he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. "you're mine. and now jay knows it too." he had you folded, knees pressed tight against your chest, your back arching painfully as jungwon forced your head up, making you watch, making you feel every single second of it.

there was no escaping it now. not the humiliation. not the pleasure. everything was crashing over you, overwhelming, and there was no way out. you were a wreck—drool slipping from your parted lips, your tongue poking out as moans poured from your mouth, completely uncontrollable. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you screamed, the sound raw, desperate, like you were on the verge of breaking apart entirely. “yessss,” you dragged out, your jaw slack, body trembling, utterly destroyed beneath him. jungwon wasn’t any better, his face buried in your neck, his breath erratic and hot against your skin as he lost himself inside of you. his moans grew louder, sloppier, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding on just a little longer. he was completely gone, fucking feral, groaning into your skin as he slammed into you, harder, deeper, like he needed to ruin you—like nothing else mattered except the sound of your body breaking under him. "i’m gonna come inside you,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, broken, like he was barely holding on. “fill you up so good, no one else will ever fucking compare. you’re mine." "please," you whimpered, your voice trembling, on the edge, barely able to form words. "fuck, come inside me. ruin me, i need it—i need you to." your begging shattered him, ripped away whatever restraint he had left. with one final brutal thrust, jungwon buried himself deep inside you, his whole body seizing, shuddering violently as he came.

you felt it—hot, thick, pouring into you, the heat filling every inch of your body as he groaned your name, his face twisted in pure, animalistic pleasure.

your last orgasm slammed into you—overwhelming, all-consuming. your vision blurred, your mouth open in a scream you barely recognized as your own, your mind blank as pleasure ravaged you, wave after violent wave. "fuck!" you cried out, voice raw, completely wrecked, as your body convulsed under him. your legs trembled, your breath coming in broken gasps as jungwon stayed pressed against you, his body just as wrecked as yours, both of you caught in the intensity of it all. he collapsed on top of you, breath hot, panting harshly in your ear, but neither of you moved. neither of you could. you were both completely spent, bodies locked together, tangled in the aftermath of what just happened. but even as the pleasure faded, your body still craved him. even as reality crashed back, the weight of what you’d done hung heavy. you gave in to him. completely. utterly. your fucking stepbrother. when he finally pulled out, you felt it—his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets beneath you. but jungwon wasn’t done. not yet. his grip didn’t loosen. instead, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your face up, turning you toward the camera. his lips brushed against your cheek, pressing a mocking kiss there, eyes never leaving the lens. you were fucked out, barely conscious, eyes glazed and half-lidded, a ruined mess under him. and that’s exactly what jungwon wanted.

he wanted jay to see everything. but jungwon wasn’t done. he grabbed your wrist, lifting it with ease, forcing your limp hand into a wave. the gesture was slow, deliberate, mocking as he waved it toward the blinking red light in the teddy bear’s eyes. jungwon chuckled softly, watching as your eyes fluttered closed, your head lolling to the side. you were passed out, completely ruined, your body limp beneath him, and yet, even in your unconscious state, he still had control. “that’s right,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, dark satisfaction rolling off him in waves as he gently lowered your hand, brushing a thumb over your wrist like it was some twisted act of affection. “no coming back now.” he leaned back, his eyes locked on your ruined form, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of his ragged breath. everything had fallen apart, and yet for jungwon, this was everything. this was what he wanted. to have you like this—to show jay, to show you both, that there was no escaping him. he smirked, glancing back at the camera, his eyes glinting with that same sick satisfaction. “hope you enjoyed the show,” he muttered under his breath, mocking, taunting, before finally pulling away from your limp body. because there was no coming back from this. not for you. not for jay.

jay entered the house quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. everything jungwon had told him was perfectly set in place—you supposedly asleep, the surprise he’d planned all ready to go. they’d planned this days ago, jungwon kept complaining about how sad you were, how much you missed jay. so jay had left early, closing out everything he needed to just to make you happy. jungwon had assured him he’d be out with jake and sunghoon to give you both privacy, and he’d even asked jay to shut down his computer. jungwon didn’t want you pestering him about the bill, and jay, being the kind of guy he was, had agreed. he trusted jungwon. loved him like a brother. but as jay moved through the house, he noticed something—the faint sound of movement coming from your room. he paused, heart racing a little faster, not wanting to be caught just yet. he wanted the surprise to be perfect. he slipped into jungwon’s room quietly, careful not to make any noise. the desk sat in front of him, the soft glow of the screen catching his eye. then he saw it.

jay’s heart dropped, his smile fading, replaced by a wave of confusion, then horror. on the screen was a live feed of your room—jungwon fucking you relentlessly, his hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your sobs. your face was streaked with tears, your body shaking from the intensity of his thrusts. jay froze. the bouquet of flowers he had been holding slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor softly, forgotten. his mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, disgust—all fighting for control. he wanted to move, wanted to storm into that room and tear jungwon off you. but he didn’t. he couldn’t. his feet were glued to the floor as he stared at the screen, his heart shattering with each passing second. “open your fucking eyes,” jungwon’s voice snarled through the speakers, low and demanding. jay watched as your eyes snapped open, locking onto something out of frame. the pain in your eyes was clear at first, but then, as jungwon slammed into you harder, deeper, something shifted. your eyes rolled back, your body arching beneath him, moans spilling from your lips. you fucking loved it.

jay’s stomach churned. bile rose in his throat as the realization hit him like a sledgehammer. this wasn’t just some accident. this wasn’t some mistake. you wanted this. you wanted him. jungwon. your fucking stepbrother. the betrayal was suffocating. you—his girlfriend, the person he thought he knew inside and out—were being wrecked by someone he considered family. jungwon, the brother he trusted, was fucking you, and you were falling apart beneath him. how long had this been going on? how many times had you let him touch you like this? fuck you like this? jay’s eyes flickered to the keyboard. there they were—your panties. his favorite. stained with jungwon’s dried cum. disgust surged through him. his fists clenched at his sides, rage burning beneath his skin. but he couldn’t stop watching. he couldn’t fucking stop. "i even got him a present," jungwon grunted, his voice strained, breathless. "but i doubt he’ll want them anymore." jay’s heart twisted painfully as he realized the truth—this was all planned. jungwon had set him up. this entire thing was a fucking setup, a game. jay’s vision blurred, his pulse pounding in his ears. jungwon’s hips slammed into you, harder and harder, your body writhing beneath him, begging for more.

you were so lost in the pleasure, moaning and gasping, completely ruined—and jay could only stand there, watching, as his entire world crumbled. how could you do this? you were sobbing now, crying out jungwon’s name as you begged for him to finish inside you. the sound of your voice, raw and desperate, shattered what was left of jay’s heart. he felt sick. had this been a game to you? had any of it been real? he couldn’t tear his eyes away. he hated you. he hated jungwon. but there was something else too. but he kept on watching, he needed to see it—to burn the image into his mind so he’d never forget. so he could walk away from you both forever. and when jungwon reached for your limp wrist, lifting it in a grotesque imitation of a wave. that was the final straw. jay stormed out of the room, the door slamming hard behind him, the sound echoing through the house. the bouquet of flowers lay forgotten on the floor, just like everything else.

you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, water dripping from your body, washing away the remnants of jungwon’s touch. but no matter how much you scrubbed, the feeling of him stayed, clinging to your skin, humming in your veins. and the guilt—it sat in your chest like a weight, suffocating, crushing, making it hard to breathe. you couldn’t deny it—you didn’t even want to. you wanted him. you had wanted him for longer than you’d ever been willing to admit, even to yourself. there had always been something between you two, something dark and magnetic, pulling you toward him, something you didn’t fully understand. but wanting him came at a price, one you weren’t ready to pay. your reflection stared back at you, hollow-eyed, cheeks stained with tears that wouldn’t stop falling. jungwon’s hands, his breath, his lips—they were all still on you, etched into your skin. it made your stomach twist in knots, a tangle of longing and disgust. how could you want something that felt so wrong? so twisted? but was it really wrong? the two of you weren’t even related by blood. you didn’t ask for your parents to marry each other, you didn’t want any of this. when jungwon stepped into the bathroom, naked, his eyes dark and possessive, you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened. his presence filled the space like a shadow, and you couldn’t escape it. didn’t want to, really. the tension between you two was suffocating, and yet you craved it. his eyes locked onto yours, something soft flickering beneath the possessiveness, a hint of caution. he didn’t wait for an invitation—just closed the door behind him and stepped toward you, as if he had every right. his gaze stayed on yours, but there was hesitation in the air, uncertainty mixed with that overwhelming pull.

"do you hate me?" his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. your throat tightened, the words sticking to the back of your throat, almost too heavy to say. "i... i don’t hate you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "but i hate myself." he stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, but you flinched, pulling back, creating space between you that you didn’t really want. you ached for him, craved his touch, but the shame was too much. it felt wrong. he felt wrong. and then jay... jay didn’t deserve any of this. and from the look on your face, jungwon knew exactly who you were thinking about. his jaw clenched, his expression hardening slightly, but his voice stayed soft, coaxing. "forget about him," he murmured, leaning in close enough that his forehead brushed against yours. his breath was warm, his presence overwhelming. "he doesn’t matter." you shook your head, a sob catching in your throat. "he does matter. he trusted me, jungwon. he didn’t deserve this. how do i even look him in the eye again? i destroyed him." "i can’t—" your voice cracked, the guilt too heavy, threatening to drown you. "i need to talk to him. i need to make things right." jungwon’s fingers tightened around your wrist, his grip firm, possessive. his face hardened. "don’t," he said sharply, his voice taking on an edge. "he’ll only hurt you. he’ll say things that’ll tear you apart. i’m not letting you do that to yourself." "i can’t just pretend this didn’t happen!" your voice wavered, panic rising in your chest. "i work with him, jungwon. how am i supposed to face him? how do i show up?"

"you don’t," jungwon replied, his tone softer but still firm. "call in sick for the week. take time off. you don’t need to put yourself through that right now." there was that possessiveness again, woven into every word, like he didn’t want you anywhere near jay. not now. maybe not ever. "i need work," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him, but the thought of walking into that office, of facing jay after everything, made your stomach churn. "but maybe you’re right..." "i am right," jungwon said, kissing your temple gently, his lips lingering there like a promise. "you don’t need to see him. not now." his words were soft, but there was an underlying intensity. and even though the guilt still weighed heavy on your chest, there was something comforting in the way he held you, kissed you, tried to make the weight lighter. "but i can’t forgive myself," you whispered, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "i can’t just forget what i did to him." his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something close to regret crossing his face. "i’m sorry," he murmured, voice low. "i didn’t want to hurt you. but i couldn’t stop myself." "i know," you whispered back, feeling the conflict tearing you apart. "but jay didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve to be hurt." "you don’t need to see him," jungwon repeated, his tone firm again, his grip tightening just enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting you go. "you don’t owe him anything."

"it’s not about owing him," you said, trying to explain, but your voice was trembling. "it’s about what i did. i need to make things right." jungwon’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. "he’ll just hurt you. i won’t let that happen." his tone was final, possessive. you nodded, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of jay—of what he’d seen, of how you’d betrayed him. how could you ever face him again? jungwon’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had started falling again. "don’t break yourself over him," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours, soft, lingering. "i love you." and as he pulled you into his arms, your tears soaking into his skin, the guilt and shame still weighed heavy in your chest. you didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to let jungwon go either. you were trapped between the ache in your heart and the warmth of jungwon’s arms, knowing you couldn’t escape either.

"i'm so fucked, won," you whimpered, your voice barely audible, thick with guilt and desperation. jungwon’s hand tightened around you, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your ear. "no, you’re not," he whispered, voice low and soothing, even though his grip was firm, possessive. "you’re mine." you trembled in his arms, your mind spinning with the weight of everything. the shame, the guilt, the way your body still craved his touch despite it all. "how can you say that?" your voice cracked. "i’ve destroyed everything. i can’t—" he cut you off, his lips brushing your temple softly, "you didn’t destroy anything. you just did what you’ve always wanted. what we’ve both wanted." you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks again. "but jay—" "forget him," jungwon growled softly, his tone darkening, fingers digging into your skin. "he doesn’t matter anymore. i’m the one who’s here. i’m the one who wants you, who’s always wanted you." he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "you’re not fucked, y/n. you’re right where you need to be."

after a few days of silence, when things had started to feel somewhat normal—if you could even call it that—your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. but when you saw the name, your stomach twisted.

jay.

your hands trembled as you unlocked your phone, heart pounding in your chest. the message wasn’t what you’d hoped for, though a part of you knew it wouldn’t be kind. not after everything you've done.

jay: slacking off because you’re busy fucking your brother? i didn’t think you’d let this affect your job.

the words hit you like a slap, cold and sharp. your blood boiled, anger mixing with the shame that had been eating away at you. he didn’t understand. he couldn’t. this wasn’t just about that one night; this was bigger than that, more complicated. but how could he ever see that?

you felt a surge of emotions—anger, guilt, frustration—rising inside you, clouding your thoughts. maybe you did feel a little mad. mad that jay could reduce everything to something so ugly, so cruel. but also mad that you had no way to make him understand.

without thinking, you started typing back a response, your fingers flying over the keys, not even caring what you’d say at this point.

you: fuck you, jay. you don’t know shit—

but before you could hit send, jungwon was there, his hand grabbing the phone from your grip with a swift, firm motion.

"don’t," he said, his voice low, warning. “don’t respond.”

you snapped your head toward him, anger flashing in your eyes. “give it back,” you demanded, reaching for the phone, but jungwon held it out of your reach, his expression unreadable.

“you don’t need to answer him,” jungwon said, his voice calm, “he’s just trying to get under your skin.”

“well, it worked,” you spat, your chest heaving with frustration. “he doesn’t understand. he’ll never understand.” jungwon’s jaw clenched, and he stepped even closer, his presence overpowering, almost suffocating. "he’ll be fine. people get hurt, they get over it. he’ll move on, and so will you." his hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear that slipped down. "you don’t owe him anything. not an explanation, not an apology. nothing." you wanted to fight back, to argue with him, but the weight of everything had worn you down. maybe jungwon was right. maybe time would heal it, or at least make it easier to bear. the guilt and shame wouldn’t go away overnight, but maybe you could deal with it when the time came. maybe when things weren’t so fresh. for now, you’d have to let it go. at least for a little while.

"you don’t get it," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i need to apologize. i need to make things right with him."

"not right now, you don’t." jungwon’s fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. his voice softened, but there was that possessiveness still lingering in every word. "you’ll deal with it when you’re ready. but not now."

you let out a shaky breath, leaning into him, the warmth of his touch soothing the storm of emotions inside you. it was hard to let go of the guilt, but the pull of jungwon was stronger—always had been. maybe time would heal the wounds, maybe someday you’d be able to face jay. you would apologize to him. one day.

jungwon tilted your chin up, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, one that slowly deepened, and you let yourself melt into it. the warmth of his body, the way his hand cradled the back of your neck—it was enough to quiet your mind, to let the guilt slip away, if only for a moment.

when the kiss broke, jungwon’s eyes were dark, full of that same need, one that you had grown addicted to. his thumb brushed over your lips. "you don’t need to deal with him right now. not when he’s just going to say shit to hurt you."

you hesitated for a second, but as jungwon’s lips found yours again, as his hands slipped down your waist, you were convinced. maybe you were just being true to yourself, following what you wanted, even if it came with consequences.

"okay," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungwon smiled, a small, satisfied smirk that sent a thrill through you. he knew he had you.

"good girl." he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed your neck, slow and deliberate.

jungwon was in the kitchen, apron on, focused on flipping the eggs just right. the sound of sizzling filled the space, and the familiar smell of breakfast hung in the air. this had become routine, the comfortable quiet that came from knowing you were still sound asleep in his bed, wrapped up in his shirt, your playful remarks slowly making a comeback, the little jabs at each other that made things feel normal again.

it took a while, but you were both taking it step by step. he smiled to himself as he wiped his hands on a towel, stepping toward the hallway. he quietly peeked into the room—his room now, really. there you were, tangled in the sheets, looking peaceful, beautiful as always. jungwon lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, his heart swelling at the sight of you. it felt right. because you belonged there, with him. a knock echoed through the house. jungwon takes off his apron and tossed it on the kitchen counter but not before turning the stove off, moving toward the door. the knock came again, sharper this time. "just a second," he called out.

he opened it. standing there, dressed casually—loose jeans and a black band shirt, a faded logo barely visible on the front. the figure was hunched slightly, typing something on their phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. staring down at his phone, brow furrowed in concentration, before slowly lifting his gaze. their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. jay. neither spoke. jay’s face was hard to read. jungwon didn’t say a word, but his body tensed, eyes locked on jay’s. both of them just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them, thick and heavy in the air. and then, as if on cue, the phone in jungwon’s back pocket vibrated. the sound was subtle but sharp, breaking the silence. jay’s eyes flickered down to jungwon’s pocket. jungwon’s lips twitched, and slowly, a smirk spread across his face.

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[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part fourteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

Rafe's gonna handle it.

But it isn't easy. His head is volatile and loud, screaming for him to choose a direction that seems intangible and difficult to comprehend. It also doesn't help that his anger simmers beneath his skin at the idea of meeting the person who terrified and threatened you. He doesn't know what he will do, but he promised you he won't take it too far.

All Rafe knows is that he can't do it alone.

"I need your help," Rafe announces with great unwillingness, just as JJ's about to turn his back to him. It wasn't a stroke of luck that Rafe happened to be at the Island Club, at the right time, sitting in JJ's section. But, JJ, despite his obligation to serve as a paying member of the exclusive club, wanted nothing more than to evade his duties to the Kook.

Until he spoke, of course.

It takes a second, then another, before the admission registers and JJ turns around. "What?"

Rafe stands from his table, and curious patrons at nearby tables watch the exchange between them. It isn't a secret that JJ and Rafe have a bitter rivalry, elevated by differing social classes and longstanding resentment that transcends their own lifetimes. It also isn't a secret that whenever these two are in close quarters, more often than not, their conversations end in fists.

But, as much as Rafe has adrenaline coursing through his veins and tension stiffening his shoulders that he would love to find an outlet for release, he didn't come here for a fight. Not with JJ, at least.

"You know where Aaron lives, don't you?"

JJ blinks at the Kook, suspicion shadowing his features as he takes his time before answering. "What about it?"

"I—" Rafe clenches his jaw, trying to soothe out his ego. "I need a favor."

"For what?"

"Are you fucking dense, Maybank?" Rafe snaps, his capacity for meandering questions reaching its all-time limit. It doesn't help that, typically, in these situations, Rafe tries to calm his nerves with his vices beforehand. But he can't. He has to do it unbearably sober. Gritting out, "What do you think?"

JJ narrows his eyes at Rafe, his own hands clenched by his side. Despite what the rest of Kildare believes, JJ isn't as stupid as people make him out to be. He simply didn't trust Rafe. Didn't understand his intent. Half of him is convinced that Rafe is in cahoots with Aaron because he knows this circles back to you and your bar.

It had to be about the note JJ collected that warned about Aaron's threat. JJ's concern with it was because of Sailor's ancestry. It's an institution for the Pogues; decades of families and tourists visiting the place to landmark what a great treasure it is to Outer Banks. It means absolutely nothing to Rafe.

Except for you.

Slowly, but surely, the corner of JJ's mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and Rafe catches the arrogant expression. Before JJ can open his mouth and instigate an actual fight, Rafe cuts him off. "Can you help me out or not?"

Normally, under any other circumstances, JJ would laugh in Rafe's face and walk away. It would serve as great ammunition against the Kook prince and his divine reign. But this concerns you. The person who took care of him growing up, who patched him up, who served as a beacon of safety for his troubles. If that means working with Rafe, JJ can do it.

"I can," JJ nods, before glancing at the clock hung over the oceanfront exit of the restaurant. "After my shift. I'll show you."

—

Truth be told, Rafe could've gone alone.

It wasn't improbable for him to discover the address of Aaron without JJ's help. He's resourceful, and with enough time, he would find it. But it was the fact that he didn't trust himself to go. He didn't know what he was going to do, what he was going to say, or how he was going to react. All he knows is his mind feels linear, sharp, and honed down to one single mission: pay your debts and be done with it.

It didn't matter the steps he'd take to get there.

"Are we going or what?"

JJ sits in the passenger seat of Rafe's parked car, the headlights turned off while they sit hidden from view. For the duration of the ride, Rafe had calmed down enough to steady his movements, take the wheel, and follow JJ's directions.

But, if Rafe lets himself think, and be reminded of how Aaron hurt you, frightened you, and nearly destroyed you, a cloud of red distorts his vision and guides his hand.

He doesn't answer JJ, staring out the dark window to discern the dark silhouette of Aaron sitting out in his yard, smoking a cigarette. His hands clenched in his lap, and when JJ repeats his previous question, this time, Rafe answers by going to the waistband of his pants and pulling out his gun.

"Woah, Rafe—" JJ holds both hands in the air, eyeing the lethal weapon as Rafe sets it on the dashboard.

"You take it."

JJ says nothing, studying Rafe's expression before cautiously picking up the gun and securing it. It goes unspoken, of course, but JJ understands what Rafe asks of him.

He turns back to Rafe. "How are we gonna confront him?"

"Follow my lead."

With a click of the car's door, Rafe steps out with JJ. He inhales a sharp breath before approaching the idle figure sitting on a lawn chair in front of his trailer, a bored-yet-curious look stretches across his face.

"Who are you?" Aaron asks, snuffing his cigarette on the ground before glancing behind Rafe to find JJ. "Hey, JJ. Here to bail out your old man again?"

JJ scoffs but says nothing. Aaron's gaze returns to Rafe. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"

Rafe doesn't want to answer, to give Aaron any sense of satisfaction of knowing his name. He doesn't know what he had expected—perhaps someone who used their fists more than their words and looked like they could follow through with their threats—but Aaron doesn't meet those expectations. All he sees is someone sleazy lowlife who deserves nothing of his time and efforts.

Going to the back of his pockets, Rafe pulls out a wad of cash and throws it to Aaron's feet.

"What's this?" Aaron bends down to pick up the money, leafing through the paper to determine its legitimacy. And he chuckles. "Okay, Moneybags, what is this?"

"To pay back a debt," Rafe answers. He can't believe how steady his voice sounds. He goes on to explain it's for you—to cover the cost of your remaining loans, and for Aaron to finally leave you alone.

When Rafe finishes his declaration, the loan shark takes a moment to process the information before a derisive smile spreads across his face. "She's got a Kook paying for her shit? Gotta say that's impressive, even for her."

"Shut up," Rafe warns, but Aaron appears unfazed by the threat. He merely stands from his chair, meeting Rafe's stare head-on, deciding to provoke further.

"To be honest, I didn't think she would be able to do it," Aaron clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. "Thought I had to burn down her bar to teach her a lesson."

Red-hot anger pulses through Rafe's veins, and his hands ache for a brawl. But he doesn't give in. Clarity still resides in his mind, telling him that he doesn't need to resort to violence. All he needs is to be done with this scumbag.

"That's all she owed you," Rafe spat. "And that means you'll leave her alone. Now and forever."

"Aw," Aaron mocks, playing a hand over his chest. "Her big bad protector comes in the form of Rafe Cameron," he raises a brow at the subtle shock on Rafe's face. "Thought I didn't recognize you, Moneybags? Your daddy must be proud you're funding a charity case from the Cut."

"Shut the fuck up," Rafe growls, stepping forward, but JJ's quick. He grabs a hold of Rafe's elbow, reminding him that it's not worth it. Clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring, Rafe reluctantly admits JJ is right.

He holds out one of his hands. "Give me back her necklace."

Aaron rolls his eyes, going into his pocket to pull out the chain and drop it into Rafe's palm.

"It's pathetic, you know," Aaron says as the pendant lands on Rafe's hand. "You going around and doing her bidding like a little bitch. Is fucking her that good that she has you in a chokehold?"

Grinding his teeth, Rafe meets his stare head-on. "It's better than being a little pussy who hides behind threats to feel important."

Rafe offers nothing more than a mocking grin in return, twisting around to head back to his car. JJ has his hand on Rafe's shoulder, guiding him, and Rafe is surprised at how he managed to leave the interaction unscathed.

Until Aaron decides to open his mouth one last time.

"Tell your little girlfriend that if she needs another loan, I'll be here, and next time, I'll even let her pay with her cunt," he laughs, and that's the final straw that made Rafe snap.

Before JJ can stop him, Rafe suddenly turns and swings at Aaron's jaw. The scumbag stumbles back, catching his face but, before he can recover, Rafe tackles him into the ground, delivering punch after punch until Aaron is nothing but a bloody pulp.

His rage is burning, his fury bleeding into each strike, and Rafe no longer cares. He's gone off the deep end, delivering violent justice to make up for the fact that Aaron has done nothing but terrorize you. Red glazes his vision until it starts to stain his knuckles and shirt too.

But Aaron is strong too. He manages to throw a hit of his own, splitting Rafe's bottom lip. They're wrestling on the filthy earth until somehow Aaron manages to produce a knife and puts it against Rafe's throat.

Harsh breaths turn to swallow as Rafe feels the cool blade digging into his skin.

"You think you're hot shit, Moneybags?" Aaron spats, his eyes wild. "You think you scare me?"

Rafe says nothing. He doesn't know what to do next. It's a dangerous situation he's in, the knife buried into the knot of his throat. But before he can formulate a plan, the familiar click of a gun sounds.

"Get the fuck off of him."

Aaron stills, the barrel of the weapon pressed against the back of his skull immobilizing every muscle. JJ roughly grabs his shoulder, hauling him off Rafe, and allowing the Kook to get on his feet.

"We're done," JJ declares firmly, the gun remains against the back of Aaron's head. "Do you hear me?"

Aaron nods, and slowly, JJ lowers the weapon. But that wasn't enough for Rafe. Snatching the gun out of JJ's hand, without a second thought, he fires—the sharp bullet piercing into Aaron's left arm, sending him tumbling back.

JJ shouts something indistinguishable at Rafe but he hears nothing but the harsh thumps of his own breaths. He steps forward, while Aaron grimaces in pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder, and points the gun right at the center of his chest—where he had mocked Rafe moments ago.

"You won't do it," Aaron grunts tauntily, still trying to cling to any last ounce of power he has left. "You're not that crazy."

"You wanna bet?" Rafe warns in a deadly calm. "Don't talk about her, don't contact her, and don't even think about her, because if I ever hear you causing her any more problems, I'll fucking kill you."

Lowering the gun, Rafe marches over to his car with nothing but the buzzing of his skin. He can't think of anything else; residual adrenaline courses through his veins like an electric current, sending his emotions haywire. And when JJ asks for the car keys—seeing Rafe unfit to drive—he hands them off without hesitation.

Inside the passenger seat, Rafe's hands are trembling. JJ glances from the corner of his peripheral but doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls out in reverse before shifting the gears into drive.

Rafe doesn't ask where they're going, concentrating on recounting the details of his memories. The blood, the bullet, and how the act he committed feels completely out of his realm—out of his head. He doesn't know what to feel.

The ride is eerily silent. JJ keeps sparing glances over to Rafe, but he's too numbed out to acknowledge any of them. When Rafe finally gains the ability to speak, he asks JJ where he's driving them. JJ answers vaguely, "You'll see."

By the time the car rolls to a slow stop, the familiar bar comes into view. The flickering neon lights welcome with an OPEN sign, and JJ kills the engine. He turns to Rafe, cautiously taking the gun back, and dropping it into the center console with the safety on.

They say nothing as they step into the bar. You're standing behind the counter, lifting your head when the little bell alerts new customers, only to discover the duo standing in the middle of the walkway. One of your brows raises at the odd pairing.

"Fuck. I need a drink," JJ announces, dropping the car keys on the table before steering behind the counter to grab a bottle. Your eyes follow JJ's movements with amusement until they return to Rafe.

He takes a seat at one of your bar stools, remaining quiet. Nothing in his head feels right, like he's in a dream state he doesn't know how to wake up from. You eye the fresh cut on Rafe's bottom lip and, unable to gauge what type of consolation you should give, decide to comfort him with one of his vices.

Pouring out a glass, you hand it over the counter. "Need a drink?"

He shakes his head.

"Need you," Rafe sets the drink down and grabs your hand, leading you out from behind the bar before stealing a kiss. He pulls you onto his lap, needing to close the distance, while roughened scraps of his callouses skim across your cheeks.

Rafe's kiss is depraved, clinging to you like you're the last breath of air. Like you're the only thing that grounds him. It's tangy and metallic, tasting his cut, which only adds to the delirium of his state and how desperate he is for you. One of his hands falls to your hips, while the other clings to your face.

He needs this. Needs you. Rafe's restraining himself from taking more than you can handle, and when you pull away, breathless, you press your forehead against his.

"Are you okay?" You whisper.

No, but he doesn't want to tell you that. With the brush of his knuckles across your cheek, feeling the warm heat of your flushed skin, he rasps. "Now I am."

"What happened?" You ask, capturing his hand into yours, grazing the blood that stained his knuckles. Some of his skin is split, but most of them seem to be from somewhere else. "Did you kill someone?"

Rafe's jaw tightens. He doesn't want to scare you with what he's done. He doesn't want you to look at him differently. When he pulls his hand away from your grip, afraid of tainting you, it takes a moment before he speaks. "I went to see Aaron."

Your easygoing smile drops and your shoulders stiffen. Withdrawing slightly, you examine Rafe from the waist up, picking up the specks of dark red covering his shirt, the trail of dried blood down his arms, and the nasty yellowing bruise that lines his jaw. "Holy fuck," you breathe, roaming your hands over his body, checking for damages. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine,"

"You're bleeding," you repeat, tipping Rafe's head back to examine a small puncture wound at the column of his throat, running your fingers over the nick to discover the scab. You attempt to get off his lap, "Rafe—"

He catches your elbow, stilling your movements and your gaze rises to meet his. His eyes are dark, like a storm over an ocean, but there's tenderness when he looks at you. "It's not all my blood."

A beat passes before you ask. "What did you do?"

At first, Rafe detects disapproval, making him want to recoil and shut down. But, upon closer inspection of your features—the way your brows pull together and your eyes soften with indescribable warmth—he recognizes it to be concern. For him.

With that revelation, he squeezes your hips comfortingly. "Nothing I didn't promise."

You don't know what to make with that. Hesitatingly, you hold your breath before deciding to ask the next question. "Did you kill him?"

"I should've,"

"But you didn't," you say, recognizing the extent of what Rafe will do for you. It's terrifying to wield such a power. "...Right?"

"Right." He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't want him to get in trouble because of you, potentially going to prison. You need him too much.

JJ, witnessing the intimate interaction, decides it's time for him to go. Carrying a bottle in his arms, he's about to silently slip out of the bar when Rafe catches the blurring movements and calls after him.

JJ freezes.

Rafe didn't forget about how JJ had his back at Aaron's. How everything could've ended a lot differently had the Pogue not been there. But, he didn't know what to say. There's still a bitter rivalry between them, and he doesn't necessarily enjoy JJ's close relationship with you. But there's an understanding. With begrudging respect, "Thanks."

It surprises both you and JJ and he doesn't know how to take it. But JJ isn't dumb. With one parting glance in your direction, seeing you in capable and powerful hands that'll do anything to protect you, he nods once. "Anytime."

When JJ slips out, you stare at Rafe in disbelief. His eyes return to your face, as you raise a confused brow. "What's that for?"

"Nothing," Rafe shakes his head, pulling you in for another kiss when you slip off his lap. He grabs your arm. "Where are you going?"

"I need to clean you up."

He doesn't want you to go. "I don't need that."

"Rafe, you're bleeding," you declare, gesturing to his face, "I'll be right back."

With great reluctance, he lets you go. Moments later, you return with a box of first aid and set it on the counter before returning to his lap. Disinfecting the cut on his throat, you patch up the wound before moving to his jaw and lips.

Rafe watches you as you work. Your touch is gentle, and your eyes are concentrated. When you catch him staring, you lift your gaze to his, a shy smile spreading over your lips. "What?"

"Just waiting for you to finish so I can kiss you," he confesses, his hands roaming up and down your waist in impatient strokes. He needs to feel you again to ground him.

You tilt your head teasingly. "Is kissing me more important than taking care of yourself?"

"Clearly." He declares as if the answer is obvious. It makes your stomach flutter, cheeks warming with heat.

You return to tending his jaw, but Rafe can't wait any longer. Roughly, he pushes your hands away and pulls you in for another desperate kiss, capturing the nape of your neck as he practically devours you.

"Rafe—" You part to breathe.

"Need you," he repeats, just as anguished and desperate as before. "Stop taking care of me and let me have you."

You don't have a second say before he recaptures your lips, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. His touch is hungry, exploring every inch of bare skin until he goes under your shirt to pull down your bra and find the sensitive flesh of your breasts.

Raw, and full of passion, you're reminded of the times when Rafe needed to fuck you to channel his aggression into something productive. You don't know exactly what happened with Aaron, only that it's over and you want to offer him refuge in any way possible.

But Rafe is much tamer than before. He's careful not to hurt you, not to play too rough. When he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his breathing is heavy but his words are firm.

"I'm not fucking you in a bar."

This surprises you.

"You weren't complaining when you fucked me in a dressing room," you whisper sultrily, planting kisses along the curve of his neck. "Or in the bathroom."

His jaw tightens with declining restraint. "That was different."

"How different?"

"I'm... I'm trying to treat you better."

You don't want him to. At least, not during sex. You want it rough, dirty, and filthy. This side of Rafe cosplaying as a saint feels wrong—especially when you know he's nothing but the devil. But you're fine with it. You need it.

"Maybe you shouldn't," you say, moving to the shell of his ear. "Maybe I want you to treat me like your own personal slut."

Rafe groans, his resolve cracking, and he stands from the stool. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to his car, throwing the door wide open to throw you inside the backseat.

He slams you against the back of the driver's seat, your legs straddling Rafe while he kisses you urgently. His hands grab at your body, unhooking your bra with a soft click and breaking the kiss only for you to shed your clothes.

Your core pulses with need; the open spread of your legs allows you to feel his hard erection, separated by a thin pair of panties and his jeans. You need it off.

Rafe trails his kisses down the curve of your neck, and you tip your head back with a soft moan, his hands fall under your skirt and between your legs. Long fingers brush against your panties, discovering the wet patch.

"Are you this wet for me?" He murmurs against the heat of your shoulders, his fingers teasing your core with your slick but refusing to slip in.

You let out a little whimper. "Hm,"

"You want me to do something about it?"

You nod desperately, a hand falling between your legs to guide him closer to your cunt, but Rafe pulls back. In one swipe, he snatches your wrist in one hand and pins them above your head, against the headrest of the driver's seat.

"Don't touch," he warns thickly, his dark eyes meeting yours and heat exploding in your stomach, your pussy aching to wrap around something.

"Please," you beg, and Rafe grins wickedly. Pushing your panties to the side, he thrusts two fingers in. Slowly, at first, to test your walls, until his penetration comes with a steady—but increasing—rhythm.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, just as Rafe captures you in another lustful kiss. Your wrists strain from the bound, but you love how you're held captive—physically and emotionally—to be controlled by his will. His fingers go faster, adding his thumb to rub your swollen clit as he swallows all the noises.

Rafe separates, kissing an arrow straight down your breasts before covering a pierced nipple. His teeth tugs the barbell, causing a whimper to add to your moans, elevated by the high you feel approaching with the slight twinge of pain.

"Come for me, baby," Rafe rasps, his voice vibrating off your skin, as he feels you fluttering around his fingers. His teeth pulls on your nipple, heightening your sensitivity and pushing you over the edge. You reach your orgasm on his hands, and Rafe guides you through the process by fucking you harder—through the tightening of your walls—making you mewl with pleasure.

Pulling out his slick-covered fingers, he pushes them between your teeth, hard eyes demanding you to lick them clean.

You do, not breaking a second of eye contact, and when Rafe retracts his fingers from your mouth, using the same hand, he cups your cheeks roughly.

You drive him wild, with the way you're so obedient, but with his face right in front of yours, just a breath away, he doesn't kiss you for reward. Instead, his words come low, in a warning and promise, "Fucking mine."

"Yours," you admit, and Rafe swallows hard.

His hands clench and unclench by his side, but he doesn't make a move to take off his pants, his bulge prominent as an outline under his jeans. Your eyes drop to it, licking your lips, and teasingly ask, "Are you going to do something about that?"

Rafe locks his jaw, teeth grinding against one another, before he follows your line of vision. Conflicted, Rafe doesn't know if he can be inside you, to fuck you, and you come to the dawning realization that Rafe's holding back.

"I'll help." You add in a whisper. "Let me feel you."

He doesn't know if he can handle it, but with the pleading look in your eyes, and the way your lips part, he breaks another one of his constraints and releases your wrists.

"Turn around."

You quickly listen, and Rafe unbuckles his belt to remove his pants and boxer-briefs, throwing them to the floor of his car. With all barriers removed, he hauls you back onto his lap, his hard cock pressed against the small of your back.

You feel a bit of his pre-cum leaking onto your backside, but Rafe makes no urgent moves to be inside you. You squirm, needing contact, but Rafe grabs your hips to still your movements.

"I don't want you touching yourself," Rafe murmurs against the shell of your ear, the lack of eye contact heightens your nerves to feel every sharp motion, every breath of air, as some form of action. "Do you hear me?"

"I won't," you promise, your cunt clenching around nothing with the idea of Rafe entering you soon. You shift closer to his cock, feeling the thick girth on you.

Rafe tsks. "I don't know if I believe you,"

"Believe me," you beg.

"Put your hands above your head," Rafe commands, and you obey. You reach towards the roof of the car as Rafe's strong arms—still stained with traces of blood—cages you in. He adjusts the headrest of the seat before you, widening the gap. Grabbing your wrists, he slotting them inside and slams the headrest down, locking you in place. "Now, you can't."

You wiggle your hands, but it's completely trapped. It makes your heart hammers with exhilaration, knowing you're at Rafe's disposal.

His hands wander over your backside, fingers tracing patterns over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine at his feather-light touches. It's teasing, drawing out the seconds, and you sit in the weight of your exposure until you're left with nothing but burning desire.

Anticipation climbs up your chest as Rafe withdraws his hands, his warmth, and before you can utter a whine, something cold covers your collarbone. You look down to discover the necklace—the one Aaron took away from you—back around your throat, the R glistening with possession.

"You got it back," you say quietly, your stomach fluttering with pride.

"I got it back," he confirms, rescinding his hands. Again.

It's such a push and pull. You almost groan out of despair, needing him to do something, but he remains distant. Despite the absolute control, having everything he's ever wanted from you—your submission, you being completely his—Rafe is still holding back. His touch second-guessed, his conflict evident.

He doesn't trust himself.

It twists and buries you with need.

"Rafe," you breathe, but he doesn't do anything. "Rafe."

"All this fucking begging," Rafe grabs your chin, forcing your head to the side to meet his hardened gaze. "What?"

Your eyes scan over his features, the hard lines of his face, the discipline he carries behind his gaze. Everything is still within bounds. "Let go." You whisper. His jaw ticks. "Use me."

"You don't understand what you're asking for."

"I trust you," you murmur, closing the distance until his shallow breaths fan against your cheeks. "Let go for me."

Finally, his last chain of restraint snaps, and primal instinct takes over. Rafe tightens his hand around your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss, only for you to reciprocate with the same ferocity, the same burning needs.

When he pulls away, you bite down on his bottom lip, tugging out the flesh until you taste a tangy metallic on your tongue.

"Use you?" He repeats, as a last line of defense. He's giving you one last chance to back down.

"Use me."

"All mine?"

"All yours."

Rafe releases your face and grabs your hips, lifting them in the air before dropping you on his cock, buried to the hilt. A guttural groan escapes his lips, and his hands remain securely around the fat of your hips, bouncing you up and down his lap.

Sensitivity courses through your veins, as Rafe uses you for his own pleasure. His aggression channels into how fast and vigorously he forces you to bounce, making the backside of your thighs burn.

He watches, as his cock slips in and out of your cunt, each time like the first. "Fuck, sweetheart," Rafe moans with pleasure, your walls fluttering around him. "You're so fucking tight for me."

"I'm so sensitive," you mumble, balling your hands into tight fists as you're trying hard to control yourself. You can't move, only up and down, and the lack of mobility makes you feel everything more. "Rafe."

"Keep saying my name, baby," Rafe demands, one of his hands coming up to grab a handful of your breast. "Remind yourself who's dick you're riding."

Rafe fucks you hard, allowing you to feel everything single twitch of his cock until the familiar heat blooms in your stomach and tightens. Your orgasm is on the horizon, you're certain Rafe is closely behind as your walls grip him in a tight vice.

"Fuck," he swears, making you go faster, the sounds of your cunt squelching with wetness. "Come on, come with me, baby."

You do, moaning wildly as you come for a second time, feeling Rafe's hot ropes of cum fills you. Your breathing is hard, coming down from this high, but Rafe doesn't let you take a second to break.

He unlatches the headrest, freeing your hands, but within seconds, he flips you over, forcing your face into the leather seats as your ass is positioned in the air.

Rafe positions himself behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass as the other strokes his hardening cock, readying for a second round. You're breathing heavily, trying to gather enough strength to pull yourself by your arms, but as you attempt, Rafe had other plans.

The crown of his cock lines against your entrance, his fingers stroking through your wet folds and, with little warning, slams into you. It makes you fall back onto your face, digging into the leather as Rafe roughly thrusts inside of you.

"Ohmygod," you murmur, delirious with overstimulated pleasure, needing a second to breathe, but Rafe allows none. You granted him permission to use you, to fuck you, and he's using it to his fullest power.

Everything is sensitive. All the nerves inside you are heightened to a frayed state, needing time to recover, but Rafe goes at a relentless pace. His rhythm is reinvigorated, going harder, faster, and more brutal than before.

"Rafe, Rafe," you moan, writhing with pleasure that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and Rafe's hand falls between the space of your legs, massaging the swollen nub. "I'm going to come again."

"Already?" He laughs tauntingly, "You truly are my little slut, aren't you?"

"Rafe," you whine.

"Say it,"

"Rafe, please,"

He abandons your clit to grab your throat, hauling you upwards by the limbs. Your breathing is constricted by the hard grip, shallowly taking in air, as Rafe murmurs hotly into your ear. "Fucking say it."

"I'm your slut," you concede, and you can feel the mischievous grin spreading across his face as he goes faster. "God, fuck, I'm your anything."

Rafe kisses behind your ear, mumbling, "Good girl," before thrusting deeper. He's hitting everything, bullying your cervix until you're seeing stars, and a third orgasm tips out of your body with a scream.

Yet he still doesn't stop.

He fucks you through this orgasm, with your legs shaking and your body trembling from overpowering until he comes inside you again. He fills you completely, not letting a single drop go to waste, and when he finally pulls out, his cum drips down your thighs.

You slump against the seat, needing space, but Rafe still has yet to let you go. He hauls you back to your knees and slots you between his legs, your back leaning against his chest.

Both of you catch your breaths, harsh breathing fills the air alongside the smell of sex. No one moves, exhaustion fills both your bones, until Rafe drapes one of his arms across your stomach, pulling you in protectively.

You, with your last bit of energy left, lift your head to meet Rafe's gaze. He's calmer, more at peace than before, and all the weight on his shoulders completely dissolves. With a small, tiresome smile, you ask, "I have one more thing to ask you."

He lifts a brow.

"Can you take us home?"

A small smile rises at the corner of his lips. Us, he hears. He likes the sound of that.

He nods, and with one last parting kiss on your forehead, Rafe gets dressed and takes you home.

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[waaayoutofline]

Like Seeing A Ghost.

Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Married life and family core.

Summary: Your teenage daughter changed styles, and you cant help but be remained of a certain someone.

Warnings: None. Just love and fluff.

WORD COUNT: 1489

AN: I wrote this under the wonderful influence of sleep depravation. I just corrected it grammatically. It’s the first time I have written a family related prompt, so sorry but it’ll probably be a bit cringey :´). YDN stands for: Your daughters name btw—

It was a quiet day in the Maximoff household, a rare sense of calm settling over the space. Humming softly, you switched off the vacuum and put it away, satisfied with the tidiness of the room. The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by the doorbell, drawing your attention with mild curiosity. “I’ve got it!” you called, making your way to the door. You didn’t need to check the peephole, you already knew who it was. “Darling, finally! Your mother is almost finished with—oh dear gods.”

You froze as your 16-year-old daughter stepped inside. Taking in her appearance, your eyes widened in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly bracing herself for the reaction that didn’t come as quickly as she expected.

Gone were her typical morning clothes, replaced by a more alternative look. She wore an oversized black t-shirt featuring an old rock band, her arms covered in fishnet sleeves, fingers adorned with silver rings and chains. Her makeup, though still a work-in-progress, was heavy with black eyeliner and smudged dark red eyeshadow. A silver cross dangled from her freshly pierced ear. She completed the outfit with a mid-length skirt and red Converse sneakers. If it weren’t for her eyes—the same color as yours—you might not have recognized her at first. But even then, the look wasn’t unfamiliar. She resembled someone else you knew all too well.

“It’s… it’s—” you began, voice faltering. Your daughter braced herself even more, her posture defiant, though you could see flickers of uncertainty in her expression. That defiant stance finally broke your composure.

“It’s like seeing a ghost! Oh, my beautiful girl,” you exclaimed, bursting into delighted laughter. “It’s like going back in time. Wanda come here please!” you called out, grinning at the uncanny resemblance.

Your heart swelled with nostalgia and amusement. You never thought you’d see such a familiar look on your own child, yet here she was, carrying a piece of the past into the present.

“What is it, love? Is it Y/D/N? I made her favorite,” Wanda called, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel before stopping abruptly. “Oh wow. This is… definitely a surprise.”

Your daughter, tired of the mixed reactions from both of you, crossed her arms defensively. “Before you say anything—no, I didn’t get any piercings or tattoos. But this is how I want to dress from now on. And if you have any issues with it, then…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of her defiance fading into vulnerability. You glanced at Wanda, who nodded. “Honey, you don’t owe us any explanations,” she said gently.

“I… don’t?” Y/D/N repeated, tentatively. You took a step forward, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not. You know your mom and I want you to discover who you are. All we care about is that you don’t hurt yourself in the process. Why would you think we’d be upset?”

Your daughter’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased. “A… friend of mine dresses like this, and her parents didn’t take it well. They told her if she didn’t dress ‘normal,’ they’d send her to some creepy summer camp.”

Wanda frowned. “Well, they’re idiots.” Your daughter smiled at that. “They are! Like your mom said, we’ll never judge you for who you are. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

With that, she smiled and pulled you both into a hug. “Thanks for being such cool parents.” You exchanged a glance with Wanda and hugged her back.

“I mean… if we weren’t, we’d be total hypocrites.” Your daughter tilted her head in curiosity, prompting a laugh from you as you moved toward the living room.

Wanda scoffed. “Oh, don’t you dare, Y/N,” she warned playfully, following close behind, already anticipating your next move. Before she could stop you, you pulled out the family photo album. Your daughter plopped down next to you on the couch, while Wanda took her place on the armrest, wearing a mock pout.

Flipping through the pages, you found what you were looking for. “Why haven’t I seen this before?” Y/D/N asked, eyes wide with interest.

“These are from years before you were born,” you explained softly, turning the album’s pages with care. “Most were taken when your mother and I first met. We kept them hidden… because she was a little shy about them.”

Wanda playfully nudged your arm, her smile a little bashful. “Do you really have to show them? I’d like for our daughter to still respect me, you know.”

You grinned, glancing at your daughter. “Of course, I do! I mean, just look at her. You two are practically twins—it’s adorable.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

As you flipped another page, your daughter gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. Wanda’s face turned a deep shade of red as she quickly covered her face with her hands, her embarrassment palpable. You, however, couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were so cool?” Y/D/N exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the album from you, flipping through the pictures like a child on Christmas morning.

“What do you mean “were”?” Wanda huffed in mock offense. “I’m still cool!”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by Wanda’s playful exasperation. You reached out, squeezing her hand, the warmth of her skin grounding both of you. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking, as if time had folded in on itself. “That picture,” you said, pointing to a particular one, “was taken around the time I first met your mom. She was this emo, tough, and incredibly intimidating girl—” You started dramatically, glancing at Wanda, who shot you a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to humiliate me further,” Wanda cut in, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Humiliate?” You softened your voice, your eyes meeting hers. “That was the version of you I fell in love with.” You turned another page, your tone warm and nostalgic. “I mean, the whole ‘bad girl’ thing really worked for me.”

“Mom, gross!” Y/D/N laughed, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

You nudged her playfully. “Oh, hush. What I’m trying to say is… I fell in love with that Wanda, and every version after her.”

With each page you turned, years passed in the photographs. Different styles, changing haircuts, moments of growth captured in still images. But one thing remained constant—your love.

“…and the next,” you continued quietly. “Because that’s what love is. It’s not about how someone dresses or looks. It’s about loving them for who they are, through every version, and with how they express themselves to the world.”

You closed the album gently and reached for your daughter’s hands, holding them tenderly. “That’s why no matter how you choose to present yourself, it will never change how we feel about you. You are our daughter, and we will always love you—no matter what.” Y/D/N smiled, her eyes bright with relief and understanding. Wanda, still blushing from your words, looked at both of you with so much love that it was almost overwhelming. A sudden thought crossed her mind, her lips curving into a small, playful smile.

“You know,” Wanda began, her voice light, “if you’re interested, I still have some of those clothes.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yes, way. Why don’t you start by heading up to the attic? I’ll join you in a sec.”

In an instant, your daughter gave Wanda a quick, excited hug before practically running towards the stairs. You and Wanda exchanged a glance, bursting into quiet laughter. As you stood up, Wanda caught you by the waist, pulling you close, her eyes filled with nothing but love. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender.

“Mama! Do you still have that red jacket?” your daughter called from upstairs, breaking the moment. Wanda sighed, chuckling under her breath as she pulled away.

“I do!” Wanda called back, her voice filled with affection. “In fact, that jacket I stole from Auntie Nat!”

Another excited shriek echoed down the stairs, and you both shared a fond look.

“I better go before she tears down the attic,” Wanda said with a small smile, taking a step back.

You nodded, watching her as she began to leave, but she paused at the doorway and turned back, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I am cool, right?”

A full, hearty laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Yeah, Wanda. You’re the coolest.”

Wanda grinned, the playful tension melting away as she disappeared up the stairs, leaving you with a heart full of love and a smile that lingered long after she was gone.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Together and More

Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader

Summary: Daddy!Benny moments from the birth of his baby to a parenting anxiety episode to a few years down the line with a little toddler.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free* Unofficial Part 3 to Come Back Knockin’ and Come Back Together. I say ‘unofficial’ because it’s more like an epilogue-y time-jump thing and I might go back later and add more fics between the last part and this to bulk up the story (if people are interested. If not I’ll probably just move on to new Benny fics unrelated to this story). Fluffy family cuteness. Girl dad!Benny. Angsty-ish at brief points (if you squint, I suppose). Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Typos.

Words: 3400

Benny Cross Masterlist

When the nurse escorts him into the delivery room, Benny freezes. Wide blue orbs flick between you and the bundle in your arms, and despite the distance, you can see his hard swallow. You can practically feel his heart thumping, reverberating off the walls, and when his lips part, you’re unsure if it’s from awe or anxiety or a mix of the both. 

When it comes to your husband’s emotions over the birth of his child, it has varied by the day. There’s been a steadiness and consistency to his excitement, thankfully, but he has vacillated between trusting in his ability to be a father and questioning what good he can bring to a kid’s life. This last week in particular was the most chaotic for his ups and downs knowing your due date was around the corner.

“Hi Daddy,” you say, hoping your smile will ease any brewing discomfort in his system. Benny doesn’t move, but his gaze has officially decided to glue to the baby. For the moment, you’ll take that as a win. Had you given birth eight months ago, you’re not sure he would have touched his child with a ten-foot pole, let alone looked at them. “Well, are you going to come see her or what?”

Benny snaps out of the shock gripping his body and he blinks. Swallows again. “It’s a girl?” he asks, a mild tremble in his voice.

With your nod, he takes a deep breath, and from the continuation of your encouraging smile, his limbs regain their functioning. It’s a snails-pace twenty steps, but eventually, he makes it to your side. 

There’s a twinge of guilt in your gut from feeling relieved while he’s tightly wound with tension, but you can’t help it. Benny is unpredictable until the last second. As much as he’s been reliable during your final months of pregnancy, nipping at your mind was the possibility of a second disappearance. But he didn’t run. He’s here. He came to you. He came for her. 

Benny’s knuckles whiten around the railing of your bed as you pull your daughter away from your chest and tilt her forward so he can take in her sleeping face. 

“Hold her,” you say, raising your arms toward him. Benny’s eyes widen. He backs up and you sigh, having expected that response. “Benny.”

“I’ll drop her.”

“Yea, because you’re so weak-muscled,” you tease with a playful roll of your eyes. You cradle your baby against your body so you have a free hand to reach out and grab him by the wrist, guiding him back to the edge of the bed. 

“Hold your arm out,” you instruct. A beat passes but he does as you say, allowing you to nestle her into the curl of his strong arm. “Cup her head with your other hand. Like that. Good. See? You’re perfect.”

He’s holding her like she’s some sort of rare, expensive bike part that took a year of his life to track down, but his shoulders slowly untighten as he starts to rock her back and forth like the natural you suspected he would be. When she opens her doe eyes to stare up at him, Benny’s brow pinches and tears start falling down your cheeks because his eyes have turned glassy and you’ve never before witnessed the sight. It’s unlikely anyone has.

“So?” you ask. “What do you think?”

Benny nods. “You did so good, baby,” he says, glancing up at you with a grin. He’s quick to return his gaze to his daughter. “You made us a beauty.”

You sniffle. “You contributed to that as well.”

“Yea, but she looks like you.”

It’s possible as she ages that she’ll develop a feature of yours here and there, but when you look at your daughter now, all you see is him. His nose, his eyes, his lips. She’s him, and you’d tell him so, but you’re not sure your words would break through the trance the baby has him in. 

—

When you wake, he’s not beside you. The sun is long from rising, and yet there’s no warmth, no lingering scent of his cologne, and when you flip over, the comforter remains smoothly spread out on his side. 

You kick the covering off your legs and stand, snatching your silk robe off the closet's doorknob to slip over its matching nightie. You know where he is. It’s where he’s spent many of his nights in the past three weeks. 

In the corner of the nursery, perched in the quilted chair, Benny is hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers woven and clenched as he stares at the crib where your daughter lies fast asleep under the low glow of her nightlight.

“Benny…” you start, making your way to him. His stare doesn’t break from the baby as he leans back against the cushion and spreads his legs so you can take your place on his lap. An arm slides across your lower back, a palm plants on your bare thigh, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You didn’t come to bed,” you say.

Benny hums in acknowledgment.

“You’ve got to be at the shop in four hours.” To that, he doesn’t even utter a sound. 

It’s not until you say, “Are you ready to tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?” that you get a response. 

He exhales heavily, then says, “What if I’m not good enough for her?” 

The question doesn’t surprise you. You assumed it was something along those lines, simply from observing his behaviors since you came home from the hospital. 

Benny’s smile rivals the sun whenever he takes his daughter in his arms, but the longer he looks at her, the more he thinks, and the more he thinks, the further that smile falls. He cradles his baby and his mind runs away with him. He peers too far into the future, digging up every possible problem and road bump ahead. Problems and road bumps—some of which you have no doubt are outlandish—that may never come to fruition. 

Your fingers weave into the blond tips at the nape of his neck and you delicately scrape the base of his skull with your nails. 

“That’s crazy. You’re amazing with her,” you tell him.

“She’s only three weeks old,” Benny argues. “There’s plenty of time to fuck it up.” 

“Ben–”

You’re cut off by the intensity with which his eyes drill into yours. A raw realness of concern swirls in blue irises. “What if she needs things that I can't afford to get her?”

Your brow raises. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he tells you. “What if she resents me for not havin’ better to offer? Her friends’ pops will have better jobs than me—more money in their pockets. We don’t even have a car to take her places; we’ve been borrowin’ Betty’s, for fuck’s sake. And this neighborhood? Baby, this street isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

You sigh. He’s right. You hate to admit it because you hoped he was worried over sillier matters, but every bit of what he said is fair. Your daughter will have friends whose fathers have established careers and the salaries to match. There will be lawyers and doctors and financiers living in areas that, while vastly nicer, still feed into the same schools your child will attend. You will need a car, ideally within the next few months because Benny can’t be riding to daycare with the baby clipped into the side satchel on the seat of his bike. And yes, the neighborhood has undeniably taken a turn in the past year. You should start planning your lives on a budget so you can get a small place outside the city. 

But the difference between you and Benny is that you know all of this is attainable. You know the two of you can do this. You know you’re both good enough and smart enough and resourceful enough to raise your baby. 

Benny removes his palm from your thigh and rubs his fingers across his forehead. You put your hands on his cheeks to turn his face back to yours. 

“Benny Cross, you are not going to fuck up. Our daughter is not going to resent you,” you say with absolute certainty, adding extra force to your tone. “She needs you and she needs me, and that's it. Everything else we will figure out in time.”

—

Three Years Later

You love to watch them. You love to watch how they exist together. You love how Benny tucks her into bed at night; how he wakes her extra early on Saturdays to make pancakes—one of the few meals he managed to master; how she stares up at him with a trembling bottom lip until he reluctantly agrees to play dollies with her; and how eager she is to take interest in anything and everything he has to show her. 

In the beginning, it wiggled your nerves to see her so curious about bikes—what mother wants to imagine her daughter on the back of a motorcycle—but she is her father’s daughter. Trying to shield her from her interests would only make her want to pursue them more, whether you agreed to it or not, so you took a step back and let it happen, knowing Benny would approach it appropriately. 

Now, it’s another one of those moments between them that you love to watch—this time watching without their knowledge as you peek through the sliver of space in the barely open door that connects the kitchen to the garage. 

The garage door is up to permit some natural lighting, and Benny, ratchet in hand, sits on a section of concrete that is shaded from the prying heat of Summer’s sun. He’s messing with the body of his bike as Lucy stands to his side; close, but not so close that she could be harmed should he accidentally lose his grip on a tool. 

“Ok,” he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He offers Lucy the ratchet and says, “Wrench please.”

Lucy carefully takes the tool by the handle—just as Benny taught her—before looking into the open box at her feet. Her head tilts as she examines its contents, and then she leans down, places the ratchet back where it belongs, and wraps her little fingers around the wrench. Pulling it out, she waves it back and forth with great enthusiasm before presenting it to her father. 

Benny smiles and she places the tool in his open palm. “Good job, nugget,” he praises as he softly pinches her round cheek. She giggles. 

Lucy takes in Benny’s every movement, observing like a tiny apprentice would a master. She’s attentive and nods along with everything he says even though she has no idea what a lick of it means. She does so until Benny finishes the job and closes up the toolbox. 

The second both of his hands are free, Lucy vaults herself into her father’s arms with such vigor that she nearly knocks him onto his back.

“Fixed it?” she asks, placing her hands on his shoulders and hoisting herself up so she’s at his eye level. 

“Fixed it,” Benny confirms with a nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When you push the door open, their heads whip in your direction. Benny’s face splits to reveal a row of white teeth, and Lucy’s eyes—the same shade as Benny’s—light up, sparkling so stunningly that you almost don’t want to let the next words out of your mouth. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you say, “but it’s nap time Lady Lu.”

Lucy gasps and looks at Benny to verify that he’s just as shocked. To her great enjoyment, he plays the part. 

“Momma’s got us on a schedule,” he tells her.

Her face scrunches in distaste. “Yucky!”

“Yucky?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead in mock offense. “Sounds like Daddy is teaching you to rebel against authority,” you say, crossing your arms as you give your husband a pointed look, “which I would really prefer he hold off on for a few years.”

Benny’s faux shock fades to a chuckle. “Alright,” he concedes, setting Lucy on her feet so he can stand. “Momma’s right, nugget.”

He winks at you and you grin as you reach toward him, grabbing his face to draw him in for a quick, thankful kiss. Just as he’s about to go in for a second peck, Lucy tugs on his hand to redirect his attention where she wants it: on her distress. 

“But–But you guys don’t have nap time!”

“Oh sure we do,” Benny says as he lifts her into his arms and settles her on his hip. “We nap when you nap.”

She glances at you, and when you nod she mutters an unconfident “Oh.” 

Not wanting to insult her feelings, you suck in your laugh. Your daughter despises the thought of missing out on any fun and has decided that it must be when she naps that her parents go wild. Little does she know that you take any opportunity to rest, and if Benny is home, so does he. 

It’s been a hardworking three years. Exhausting. Taxing to a degree that your bodies still haven’t fully recovered. Benny spent the majority of his waking hours at the shop while Kathy and Betty offered to watch Lucy so you could get a job as an office assistant; painfully dull work, but not an opportunity you took for granted considering you had no training in the area before you were hired. You both worked as often as you could for as many hours as your employers would allow, so much so that Benny would hold you through the tears you shed worrying if it was subconsciously affecting Lucy. You didn’t want her to know her parents for their absence, but at the end of the day, it was all for her, so you pressed on. 

You and Benny found peace and relaxation in the simple things—late-night rides; bonfires with the club; Saturday morning cartoons with Lu—but the rest of the time you were wearing yourselves out, and not always in the pleasurable way. 

But it was worth it. Every headache from lack of sleep, every aching joint from your constant desk sitting and Benny’s physical labor, every emotional outburst that the two of you would coax one another out of—worth it. 

Six months in, you got that car you needed. By a year, Benny had bought into the shop for fifty percent. And at the end of two years, you found a house just outside the city—a modest three-bedroom with a yard and a garage.

“Are you sleepy now?” Lucy asks, her voice already beginning to lose the oomph of its energy.

You softly snicker. Your daughter always hits her marks. Like clockwork, about two minutes post-nap-time announcement, regardless of whether or not she fights you on it, her eyelids struggle to open after each blink and her words leave her mouth at a more sluggish pace. 

“Very,” you nod again. “But we certainly won't nap if you won't. We wouldn’t want to miss out on any fun with you.” The tip of your index finger taps her tiny nose. 

“N-No, I'll do it,” she says, “if you guys are tired too.”

“We are, nugget,” Benny tells her. “So let's get you to bed, sound good?”

She’s fading fast but she uses some of that remaining energy to give a little grin before laying her head on her father’s shoulder and releasing a yawn. “Yea, Daddy.”

—

“Well, that took all of fifteen seconds,” you say as Benny gently closes Lucy’s bedroom door behind him. 

You start heading for your room with your husband trailing after you, but then there’s a tight grip on your waist and you’re spun to face in the opposite direction. Fumbling your steps, your chest bumps against Benny’s before he bends down, wraps a thick arm around your thighs, and tosses you over his shoulder. 

When you yelp, you’re punished with a swat on the ass. “Hush, baby. You wake Lu and we don’t get our nap, and after workin’ on the bike all mornin’, I could really use one.”

He carries you to your bedroom, sets you on the edge of the bed, and throws himself onto his back atop the mattress. Then, arms spread wide, smirk across his face, he says, “C’mere,” and you crawl into your usual space against his body. After a synced sigh, Benny crooks his knuckle under your chin and tips your head back so he can seal his lips to yours. 

You’ll never tire of this. Of him. The feel of him around you. The taste of him. The scent of cologne and motor oil. The way he nips at your bottom lip to pull a muffled squeak from your throat and how he smiles into the kiss at his achievement. It’s too damn good and nothing could match it. 

Knowing how your future would have evolved if Benny hadn’t returned after learning of your pregnancy is impossible. Maybe you would have found happiness if you had moved on and met another man, but you wholeheartedly believe that that man, whoever he might have been, wouldn’t have had the capacity to be what you need. When Benny stepped into your world, he took the mold—your ideal image of the love of your life—and stretched it out to fit him perfectly, and then he immediately broke it so no man could so much as attempt to take his place. And it worked. There was never going to be anyone else for you. At least, not anyone who could give you what you have now. 

As Benny’s fingertips graze over your cheek and bury into your hair, he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back. Lips press harder into yours and then they disappear. Your eyes snap open, a pout rapidly forming that he quickly kisses away. 

“Wanna talk to you about somethin’,” Benny says lowly, whisper-like as his nose nudges yours. You do your best to straighten out your thoughts and pay attention, but it’s made difficult by the comforting weight of his body bleeding into yours and his thumb brushing back and forth along your cheekbone. “You know, Johnny and Betty said they’d watch Lu tonight if we want.”

With narrowing eyes, you reply “Yes,” drawing out the word, wondering where he’s going with this and why it has to interrupt the kissing.

“If you wanna take ‘em up on that, I was thinkin’ we could go for a ride, and then—” he shrugs the shoulder not supporting his weight above you, “I don’t know, maybe we come home and make another kid.”

Your eyes shift from mildly irritated slits to round saucers. “What?”

“Yea,” he says. “Thought it might be nice.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, if you’re willin’ to birth another one, I’d be happy to put one in you.”

A laugh bubbles from your chest. “Would you now?”

Benny nods, planting a kiss on your mouth. That kiss moves to your cheek, then his lips ghost along your jawline before landing on the sensitive spot just under your ear. “You just gotta say yes, baby,” he says, warm breath heating your skin, “and nine months from tonight, we could have our second one.”

Your fingers glide through his hair, fisting the strands as you angle your head to give him better access to your neck. He licks and sucks until you moan, and then you say, “You’re that confident you can get me pregnant on the first shot?”

Benny pulls his head back to look at you. “Course I am. When I did it last time, I wasn’t even tryin’,” he says, cocky grin in place. But then his features soften. “So? What do you think?”

Your lips quirk to the side and you hum. “Alright, Benny Cross,” you say. “Let’s make another baby.”

---

A/N: I keep writing scenes with mothers eavesdropping on father/child bonding moments 🫣

Taglist (if you wanna join)

[endless-ineffabilities]

Say Yes To Heaven

chapter 1 of the National Anthem series

President Aemond Targaryen x f!reporter reader

synopsis: a reporter finds herself entangled in an affair with Aemond Targaryen, the President of Westeros.

in this chapter: the President has a proposition for the reader, one which she finds almost impossible to refuse. Will she say yes to entering the enticing world that he so offers? Will she yes to him?

word count: 5.2k

themes/warnings: mild smut (18+), tension that can cut like a damn knife, language, mutual pining, use of power for the purposes of pursuing the reader (obviously, he IS the President)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

best to read the intro chapter before this one!

President Aemond Targaryen is in the second half of his tenure, and his presidency has already left an indelible mark on the political and historical landscape of Westeros.

From the start, Aemond's detractors were convinced he couldn’t do it. At just 28, they saw him as too young and too much a product of the Targaryen political dynasty. His election, they claimed, was less about his abilities and more about his family’s influence. Who’s to say he wasn’t just a puppet, with the real power lying in the hands of his powerful relatives? 

Now, two and a half years later, the country has seen what Aemond Targaryen can do. King’s Landing, once a cesspool of crime and poverty, has undergone a staggering transformation under his leadership. The capital’s streets now gleam with prosperity, lined with new businesses, cultural centres, and bustling markets. Even his detractors begrudgingly admit that his efficiency is something to marvel at. 

You’re aware of all this, of course. It’s part of the reason you were chosen to report on his presidency, giving the public a closer look at the enigmatic leader steering the nation. But lately, you can’t help but feel that your perspective on him has shifted, especially after that night in his private suite. 

Something lingers. You’ve started researching him more intensely, not because you have to, but because you want to. You pore over old interviews, articles, any scrap of information you can find. You’re supposed to be impartial, and you try to be. But you can’t deny that he fascinates you. 

Whatever it is, you’re determined to ignore it. You enjoy your work as a journalist, and you know you were extremely lucky to have landed a position at Highgarden News. Sure, you are still assigned to the team that reports on governmental affairs, but who’s to say that you can’t do your job from a distance? There is no need to get in deep into the thick of it all. The next time you see him, it can be as if that night in his suite at the Highgarden Hotel never happened. 

You are a professional. 

You know you are also a fool for thinking you can ever resist the attraction, but that does not matter.

Aemond, he asked you to call him, but that must only be reserved for his friends. Those close to him. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a field reporter doing her job while he is the most powerful man in the country. He must remain President Aemond Targaryen to you. Mister President. 

Never mind that he calls you angel, and that it might be the most beautiful name anyone has ever given you. 

Angel – it had sounded like prayer on his lips. 

What must his wife call him behind closed doors? My dear? My love?

Sitting in the fluorescent-lit office of Highgarden News, the weight of your attraction feels overwhelming. Your eyes linger too long on articles about Aemond, replaying clips of his speeches, watching the way his mouth moves when he talks. It’s pathetic. You close all the tabs, scolding yourself for letting it get this far.

“Still obsessing over him, huh?”

Theon’s voice snaps you back to reality. He’s leaning over your cubicle wall, grinning ear to ear. 

Heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m not obsessing,” you mutter, though you can tell from the smirk on Theon’s face that he isn’t buying it.

“Sure,” he teases, nodding mockingly. “You’ve had tabs on Mister President open all morning. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“I’m doing research. It’s my job, you know. Presidential affairs, national policy, all that fun stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Theon crosses his arms, his grin widening. “Because staring at his pictures is totally related to national policy.”

You throw a pen at him, laughing despite yourself. “I’m not staring at him! He’s the President of Westeros, and I’m just doing my job.”

Theon raises a brow and leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve got this crush on him. I won’t tell anyone. Well… not a lot of anyones, at least.”

“He’s married, Theon,” you groan. "That means I can’t be interested.”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s half the appeal,” Theon says, unfazed. “Forbidden fruit, baby. Besides, have you seen the guy? If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I won’t even think twice.”

You bury your face in your hands. The worst part is that he’s not entirely wrong. “Theon, please. I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re trying not to think about how good he probably looks out of that suit.” He winks at you, not missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to remind you that you need to get laid.” He taps your desk, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Seriously, though. Be careful. I’ve seen the way he looks at you in those press conferences. That man is starved.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding in your chest. If only he knew the truth of what happened that night. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you lie, trying to sound casual.

Theon raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Whatever you say. By the way, Loras is looking for you.”

You freeze, the mention of your supervisor snapping you back into focus. “Loras? What for?”

Theon shrugs. “No idea. But he’s in his office, waiting for you. Sounds urgent.”

Your stomach flips. Anxiety builds up in your chest as you make your way down the hall to Loras’s office.

Please don’t let this be about Aemond.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Loras is seated behind his desk when you walk in, flipping through a stack of papers. His sharp eyes flick up to meet yours as he gestures for you to sit.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a pretty major opportunity for you.”

You nod, trying to keep your nerves in check. “What’s the assignment?”

“As you know, President Targaryen’s re-election campaign is kicking off soon,” Loras begins, his tone brisk and no-nonsense. “It’s one of the biggest political stories of the year. We need someone embedded with his team – full access to the President, travelling with him, covering every move.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh no.

“And I want you to be that reporter,” Loras says, folding his hands as he looks at you expectantly. “You’re one of the few reporters we’ve got that are already pre-approved, and the best one for the task.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Loras leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp. “You’ve been covering his administration ever since he got elected. You know him better than anyone else here.”

You swallow hard, trying to process what he’s saying. “That’s… a lot of responsibility.”

“It is,” Loras agrees. “But it’s also the kind of assignment that can make a career. Think of the exposure, the access. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Your thoughts are spiralling. Travelling with Aemond? Watching him up close, day in and day out? You can barely keep it together after one night in his suite – how are you supposed to maintain professionalism while being that close to him for months?

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loras raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your hesitation. "Why not? You’ve handled plenty of high-pressure situations before."

“It’s just… surely someone else is better qualified. What about Theon? He did a great job at covering the Lannister scandal last year,” you say, searching for the right words. How do you explain that the mere sight of Aemond makes your pulse race?

“That was gossip fodder. The President’s affairs are a completely different territory than what you’re going to cover here. This is serious news. A definitive political profile if you do it well, and I know you will.” Loras watches you for a moment, then leans forward, his voice lowering. “And I’ll be honest with you. The President specifically asked for you to cover the campaign.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“He requested you by name,” Loras says, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But if the President wants you on this assignment, I suggest you take it. For your sake – and for the sake of the agency.”

He asked for me? The words send a thrill through you, even as you try to tamp it down. 

“I’ll think about it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Don’t take too long,” Loras says. “The campaign starts next week. I need your answer as soon as possible.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Hours later, you sit alone at your kitchen table, the contract in front of you. The paper feels heavy, like it’s mocking you. The more you think about it, the more your resolve weakens. This is an opportunity like no other. The benefits are staggering – the access, the prestige, the career-defining stories you could write. But then there’s him.

You know you should sign it and get it over with, but something inside you hesitates. A voice, small but insistent, telling you this is a bad idea. That if you do this, you’ll fall deeper into the pull of him, into something you can’t control.

But then your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see a message that sends your heart into overdrive.

Dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. I’ll have someone pick you up. - Aemond

You swallow hard, a mix of surprise and dread washing over you. How does he even have my number? But then again, he’s the President – of course he has access to everything. This isn’t a question; it’s a command, and he knows exactly how to get you. He must sense your wavering resolve.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a reply.

- Why? What for?

His response is immediate. I just want to discuss something with you, angel.

- The assignment. Did you really ask for me?

Yes. I did.

You hesitate, your mind racing through the implications.

- I’m considering it.

Allow me to convince you. Come see me tomorrow.

- Nothing can happen between us.

Understood. 

But I can’t pretend that I’m not curious about what could.

- You know what they say about curiosity.

So, what do you say? You take a moment, biting your lip, the playful banter igniting something inside you.

- Fine, I can agree to dinner. But we’ll keep it completely professional.

Deal. Looking forward to it, angel.

Good night.

- Good night to you too, Mister President.

Don’t test me, angel.

A shiver runs down your spine the moment you read those words. His response feels like both a promise and a threat – the kind that ignites something deep inside you. The kind that sends images flashing through your mind, unbidden, making your legs clench together despite your hesitation.

The three little dots disappear as you lock your phone and drop it onto the cushion beside you, as if cutting off the connection to Aemond will somehow help you regain control over your own thoughts.

Tomorrow, you swear to use every ounce of willpower you have to keep things professional. You just hope it’s enough.

A fool, indeed.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The next night, you're standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your blouse for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s appropriate – a crisp white blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt, modest enough for any work setting, but there’s something about the way you’ve put it together tonight. The way the blouse hugs your figure just right, the slight sheen of the fabric catching the light, the way the skirt fits snugly at your waist.

It’s nothing special, you tell yourself. Perfect for the occasion, suited for the upscale location you’ll likely be heading to. But deep down, you know better. You want to look good for him. And that very thought makes your stomach twist.

You adjust your hair one more time, glancing at the clock. It's almost time. You can handle this, you remind yourself. It’s just dinner. Just a business conversation. You’ve done this a hundred times before.

But you’ve never done this with him. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the anticipation buzzing through your veins is impossible to shake.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You smooth your skirt one more time and walk over, taking a deep breath before opening it.

You’re greeted by the sight of two familiar faces: the same two members of Aemond’s security detail who escorted you to his penthouse that night.

They’re as imposing as you remember – tall, sharp in their tailored suits, one blonde and one brunette, with eyes that give nothing away. The only difference tonight is the extravagant bouquet of flowers in the hands of one of them.

The flowers are breathtaking, an arrangement of deep red roses intertwined with white lilies that feel far too intimate for something as innocent as dinner. But then again, they could very well be a reflection of Aemond’s intentions.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the blonde says, his voice low and composed. “These are for you. From the President.”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course they are. You swallow, glancing at the flowers as if they could explain everything.

The fragrance wafts up to you, rich and intoxicating. You can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the night’s games. Your fingers tremble slightly as you take the bouquet, its weight heavy in your arms, both literally and metaphorically.

“For me?” you murmur, as if the answer isn’t obvious. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man confirms. “The car is ready when you are.”

You leave the flowers on the kitchen counter, stealing one last glance at them before closing the door to your apartment. They feel like a message – a reminder of who you’re dealing with tonight. Aemond Targaryen does not do things subtly.

Soon enough, you’re sitting in the back of a sleek black car, your hands nervously twisting in your lap. The city lights blur past the window, but all you can think about is the man waiting for you inside the restaurant.

After a few moments of silence, curiosity nudges at you. “I suppose you both already know who I am,” you say lightly, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “Probably more than I’d wish for you to know. So, would you care to tell me your names?”

The man in the passenger seat – the blonde – turns slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m Steve, ma’am,” he says, his tone friendly and warm, a stark contrast to the serious atmosphere.

“James,” the other one says from behind the wheel, his voice low and gruff, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There’s a certain sternness about him, like he’s perpetually on duty.

“Steve and James,” you repeat, letting the names settle into your mind, humanising them. You glance at Steve. “So, James doesn't talk much?”

Steve chuckles, casting a quick glance at his partner. “That's just how he is,” he says. “You’ll get used to him. We all have.”

James doesn’t react, his focus still entirely on driving. You smirk softly to yourself, feeling some of the tension in the car ease with Steve’s casual demeanour. 

But the thought of their boss – the boss of the entire damn country, one could say – lingers heavy in the back of your mind.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The car pulls up to the restaurant, a lavish affair located on the grounds of an exclusive country club just outside the city. As you step out, you recognize the place instantly – The Old Valyria, a restaurant housed in a grand, ornate building that looks more like a palace than a dining establishment. The stone facade is intricately carved, its old-world charm unmistakable.

You’d covered an event here earlier in the year, reporting on one of the prestigious galas held by the Highgarden elite. But tonight, even as a familiar face in the city, you feel like an outsider in this world. The guests you spot entering and leaving are dressed in the finest attire, their movements confident, as if they were born into this luxury.

But then you see him.

Aemond stands just outside the grand entrance, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, but what catches you off guard is how casual it seems on him, especially with the black shirt underneath, its top buttons undone. It’s a departure from the rigid, formal image you’re used to seeing in the media. His silver hair is tousled, looser tonight, giving him a youthful, almost rebellious edge.

Your breath catches in your throat as he spots you and strides forward with purpose. His presence, as always, commands attention, but tonight you notice something softer in his expression. 

He reaches for you the moment you’re close enough, his fingers brushing over yours before lifting your hand to his lips. The kiss on the back of your hand is slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time, and you can’t control the heat that flushes through your body. 

“That gesture doesn’t seem very professional,” you manage, your voice a bit shakier than you intended.

Aemond smirks, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. He straightens but doesn’t let go of your hand right away. “Sometimes certain gestures are worth bending the rules for, angel.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. He’s already playing with boundaries, the charming bastard, making it harder for you to maintain your resolve. And you haven’t even made it to the table yet.

“Shall we?” he says smoothly, gesturing toward the entrance.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The restaurant is even more breathtaking from within. Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, and the soft glow of candlelight reflects off the polished marble floors. 

You’re guided to a secluded table near the back, tucked away from prying eyes. Aemond holds your seat out for you, and you thank him, smoothing your skirt as you settle in and try to compose yourself. 

He sits across from you, his gaze never leaving yours. He appears at ease, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a sense that he’s in control of every detail – of the night, of the atmosphere. Of you. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“It was kind of hard to refuse the President,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly. “Be that as it may, you could have, and yet here you are.”

The waiter appears, setting down wine glasses and pouring a deep, red vintage. You take a sip, hoping it’ll steady your nerves. Aemond watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze glinting with something that you desperately wish to ignore. 

“I know you’ve been thinking about that night,” Aemond says, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

You almost choke on your wine. Leave it to him to cut to the chase. “I… I don’t –” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he continues, leaning forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “It’s not something I think I can ever forget, angel.”

Your throat feels dry, and you struggle to keep your composure. “It was a mistake.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A mistake?” He leans back, swirling the wine in his glass. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I came here because you said you have something you want to discuss, sir,” you say, more firmly this time. “My supervisor informed me that – ”

“Sir.” Aemond clicks his tongue, the word dripping with distaste as his expression shifts into something darker. His brow furrows briefly, and you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then his lips twitch into a smirk, his amusement unmistakable.

His posture is relaxed yet deliberate, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have to admit, I was about to protest. To tell you I never want you to call me something so impersonal as that.” His smirk widens, and there’s a spark of playful danger in his gaze. “But then… a scenario came to mind.”

“What scenario?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

His smile turns devilish as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his fingers lacing together. “One where you do call me sir,” he says, his voice dropping lower, more intimate now. “But not in the way you just did. Not with that sharp, cold professionalism. No…” He lets the sentence hang in the air for a moment, drawing it out, savouring it. “In a different setting. One where it’s… earned.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as the meaning behind his words sinks in. Heat blooms in your cheeks, and you quickly break eye contact, staring down at the table as you try to collect yourself. 

“That’s… not what I meant,” you say, your voice unsteady, trying to bring the conversation back to safer ground. But it’s too late.

Aemond doesn’t seem fazed by your attempt to regain control. If anything, the flicker of a grin on his lips tells you he’s pleased with how easily you’ve been disarmed.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “You’re here for a discussion.”

“I’m here for the assignment,” you manage to say. “To discuss my role. Professionally.”

His smirk fades into something more thoughtful, though the tension between you continues to coil tighter with every second that passes. “Is that how you really want to play this?”

“It’s the only way to play this,” you reply.

“Oh, is it?” Aemond’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “You always have a choice. You could walk out of here right now, tell your supervisor you’ve changed your mind, that you’re not up for the assignment.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “But you won’t.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting you squarely. He’s right, isn’t he?

“You need this job,” Aemond continues, his voice smooth as silk. “But I think it’s more than that. I think you want to be here. In my orbit.”

Of course he’s right, but admitting that would be walking into a trap. One that you might not be able to escape. 

“You’re wrong,” you say quietly, though the words sound weak, even to your own ears.

“Angel… I don’t think I am.”

For a moment, everything hangs in the balance, the tension thrumming in the air. It would be so easy to let go. To give in to whatever this is. But you can’t. Not yet.

You sit up straighter, forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “As I mentioned, I came here for the assignment,” you say, more firmly this time, regaining some of your composure. “So, if there’s something you need to discuss, let’s talk about that.”

Aemond watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something. Then, finally, he sits back, exhaling softly as if deciding to play along – for now.

“Very well,” he says, his tone shifting back to something more neutral, though you can tell he’s not finished with you yet. “We’ll have dinner, and then discuss.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The dinner goes better than you expected. Aemond is calm, composed, and – surprisingly – reigning himself in. He makes casual conversation, steering the discussion toward neutral topics. Politics, the upcoming campaign, even light-hearted comments about the restaurant. Every word is measured, delivered with that cool confidence you know so well.

But no matter how carefully he plays it, the tension simmers just beneath the surface, a constant pulse between you. Every glance he steals in your direction, every time his hand brushes yours as he reaches for his glass, it sends a jolt through your body. You feel it, deep in your core, the magnetic energy that makes it impossible to stay unaffected. Like the way his eyes linger on your lips when you smile… it’s all so subtle, but dripping with intention.

By the time dessert arrives, your heart is racing, and you’re almost grateful when the dinner ends. Because while Aemond has kept it together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The ride back is a different story.

You sit on one side of the sleek, leather seat, your body tense, trying to create as much distance between you and Aemond as possible. He’s stoic, seemingly focused on something else entirely, his eyes fixed on the window as the city lights flash by. But the air inside the car is practically electric.

It’s only when you glance forward that you notice the screen divider has been put up. Steve, or maybe James – you’re not sure who did it – must have done it without you noticing. The realisation sinks in, laden with meaning. What did they think would happen? What did they expect?

Your pulse quickens. You cross your legs, a nervous habit, but when you do, your skirt rides up just a little too high, exposing more of your thigh than you intended.

That’s when you notice Aemond’s gaze shift. His eyes, dark and intense, flick down to your leg. The moment hangs in the air, thick and heavy. His face, calm and controlled just a second ago, hardens with something primal. And that look – it’s all it takes to flick a switch inside you.

In a flash, he’s on you.

The restraint he held so carefully through dinner shatters. His hands are on you, gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry, desperate, ravaging. You let out a gasp, but it’s swallowed by the intensity of his kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a raw urgency that leaves you breathless.

You meet him in the middle of the seat, your bodies colliding with a heat you’ve tried so hard to ignore. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your now untucked blouse, searching, gripping, pulling you closer. The feel of him against you, the strength in his hands, the way he kisses you like he’s starving – it sends a rush of warmth straight through your core.

Your head spins, your breath coming in shallow gasps between kisses as you manage to push back, if only for a second. “We can’t,” you whisper, your voice shaky, weak. But you’re not pulling away. Your hands are still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his.

“Fuck, I know, angel,” Aemond growls, his mouth moving to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “But I want you…” His words trail off, full of frustration.

You should stop this. Every logical part of your mind screams at you to pull away, to remember who he is, who you are. This can’t happen. Not with him. Not like this. But the other part of you – the part that’s burning, aching for him – doesn’t care. That part wants him more than anything.

His lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower. His hand pushes your skirt higher, his fingers grazing your bare skin. You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his chest, gripping his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Between kisses, you manage to pull back, your lips barely an inch from his. “We can't do this... sir,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the word sir meant to ground you, to remind yourself that he’s your superior, that this is wrong. But even as you say it, the way your body reacts to him betrays the word’s other meaning.

It shifts something inside him. You see it. His eyes darken, his breathing quickens, and for a moment, it’s like a switch has been flipped.

Aemond growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating between your bodies as his hand grips your thigh even harder, pulling you flush against him. “Say that again,” he murmurs, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your jaw as he speaks. “Call me that again.”

Your breath hitches, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire coursing through you. “Sir,” you whisper, and the way his body responds – the way his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs – it’s overwhelming.

He kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip. He moves his hand higher, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing the heat pooling between your legs, and you let out a gasp, your body trembling against him.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, but your legs clench around his hand, trapping it within, pressed against the material of your panties.

“We can’t… sir,” you repeat, but the word sir falls from your lips like a plea, and it’s the final straw.

“Fuck,” he growls, his mouth hot against your neck, his words slurred with need. “You keep saying that we can’t, but I don’t think you mean it.”

He’s right. You don’t.

But just as his fingers nudge the material of your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit, the car slows, the outside lights shifting. Reality crashes back in – suddenly, you’re aware of the sound of the tires on gravel, of the car pulling up to the curb. You blink, the haze of heat between you shattering as the car stops.

“We’re here,” you whisper, breathless, your body still pressed against his.

For a moment, Aemond’s hand freezes on your thigh, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls away just slightly. He looks at you, his gaze still dark, filled with that same intensity, but there’s a flicker of something else now. Frustration.

You take a deep, shaky breath and pull yourself back, your lips swollen, your body still burning. “This can’t happen again,” you say, your voice unsteady, though you don’t even believe your own words.

Aemond doesn’t respond at first. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to drag you back into him, consequences be damned. But then, slowly, torturously, his hand slides higher again, fingers curling under the waistband of your panties.

Your breath catches in your throat, the world narrowing to the sensation of his touch. Then, with steady precision, he pulls the delicate fabric down, his fingertips grazing over the slick, sensitive lips of your cunt. The touch sends a shockwave through your body, a shiver of need that leaves you breathless.

Aemond slips your panties off in one smooth motion, and with a smirk that’s maddening, tucks them into the pocket of his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture is possessive, unhinged, filled with a promise that you know you can’t outrun.

“See you soon,” he murmurs, his voice low. His lips curl into that same wicked smirk, but this time it’s softer, almost reverent as he adds, "Angel."

The word hangs in the air as you step out of the car.

You’re his angel, and there is no turning back now. 

Series only taglist (comment to be added) - @aemond-lover98 @pinkpeachbloom @whencokewascasual @salinaiacono6 @mycheersricochet @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @chattylurker

General HotD taglists (refer here)

Vhagar taglist 1 - @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @anukulee (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

Well... that sure escalated quickly. How could you have ever resisted? Good luck keeping it professional on the campaign trail, angel. 😇

Some new characters are introduced: Loras and Theon. Steve and James (*wink*). Soon we'll meet the Vice President, the campaign manager. etc. etc.... the wife (!!!)

Let me know how you're faring! It's only just begun 🤍

[suntoru]

─ ✰ INVISIBLE STRING.

─ SYNOPSIS: the three times you coincidentally bump into toji fushiguro and the one time you find out it was intentional.

─ WARNINGS: 3.4k words!! not proofread, swearing, fluff, ooc toji?, mentions of a dildo, mild violence, creepy perv (not toji), BABY MEGSSS, idk i started yapping halfway through

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: GUYS I LOVE TOJI. I LOVE HIS SLUTTY WAIST. disclaimer i’m only like 6 episodes into jjk i apologize if the characterization is off!

— the first time your ever meet toji fushiguro is on a friday at 8PM. you don’t expect to be so downbad for somebody you just met, much less in a grocery store in your pajamas, but here you are. and fuck, he’s hot. he’s clad in a snug, black compression shirt that outlines his biceps so nicely and enticingly low-waisted white sweatpants that fall deliciously on his hips… compared to him, you look like a hobo in your ratty old pajamas. scratching your head in embarrassment, you instantly look away before he catches you staring— and thank god he speaks up, his voice interrupting your less-than-innocent thoughts.

“think that’s mine,” he motions casually to the black-haired cherub curled up in your arms. the little one’s eyes, swollen and red from the relentless wailing for his papa just seconds earlier now lights up immediately, adoration clear in his eyes. his tiny little arms outstretches towards toji in an adorable plea to be held. rolling his eyes, toji relents, scooping megumi up with one arm and securing him in his hold.

“cute kid.” you coo, ruffling the doe-eyed toddler’s hair affectionately.

“yeah… cute little brat,” he mutters in a low voice. “where’d you find him?” you giggle softly. “was in the toy section playing, noticed he was alone, then started to cry… be more careful next time, okay, ’gumi?” the child nods his head shyly, burying his face in his daddy’s chest. you wish that was you don’t u u horny degenerate /lh

“swear to god, he won’t listen to me when i tell him stuff. and he gets sad too easily, cries when he isn’t allowed to buy whatever he wants…” toji scoffs, pinching megumi’s cheek and a small whine escapes the toddler, effectively tugging at your heartstrings. what a cute little family.

“the mama must be real pretty; cause he certainly doesn’t take after his grumpy papa.” you lightheartedly joke, allowing the black-haired baby to toy with your fingers. “the mom’s out of the picture.” toji nonchalantly reveals, an unexpected hush falling over the conversation.

wide-eyed, you realize the awkwardness that your comment had caused. “i-i’m so sorry!! i didn’t mean to—” you stammer, feeling a pang of regret. “‘t's fine, shit happens.” he shrugs his shoulders ever so casually, dispelling the tension in the air. “it’s just me and this little gremlin here,” he adds, and despite his earlier insults towards the adorable baby, it’s crystal clear he loves him— even if he won’t readily admit it out loud. being a single dad… you can’t even imagine it. must be so hard…

you're so caught up in your feels that you don’t even notice when toji takes a peek into your grocery cart, a snicker escaping him. momentarily confused, you follow his gaze and then it hits you— oh no. what you originally came here to do, the reason you didn’t even have time to dress properly was because it was the last discount day for– looking down in horror, placed proudly, right on top of your cart, is an obnoxiously bright pink silicone dick.

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and a flush of embarrassment colors your cheeks as you fumble for words. “i-i… um… c-can explain!!” seemingly enjoying your flusteredness, he loses no time teasing you. "someone's clearly single." he remarks, a smug look plastered on his face. he snatches it out of your cart, dangling the object just out of reach– this bastard!! capturing megumi's attention, the innocent curiosity in his little mind interprets the funny-looking object as a potential toy, prompting him to reach out with grabby hands.

in a state of panic, you swiftly smack it out of toji’s hands, but you fail to realize there’s somebody in your way– you accidentally hit a balding, middle aged man square in the face with a dildo. a fucking dildo. letting out an audible gasp, you quickly turn away as the now angry man swivels around, searching for the perpetrator angrily. your efforts to stay inconspicuous prove futile as the 6'2 sorcerer can't contain his laughter, earning a few odd stares from shoppers passing by.

"it's not funny," you whine, feeling the heat creeping up to your face as he wipes away a tear, still clutching his stomach. he grins tauntingly, wholeheartedly amused.

"nah, that shit’s hilarious."

— “mama, mama!!” coincidence seems to strike once more, for your second encounter with toji fushiguro comes about a week later. you’re minding your own business in a neighborhood park, in the middle of texting your friend when little megumi joyfully latches himself onto your leg, gurgling happily, effectively scaring the shit out of you. safe to say, you're surprised— mommy? you'd met him once for thirty minutes and he's imprinted on you.

but you can't find it in yourself to be mad; he's practically looking at you with stars in his eyes. so you cave, crouching down to meet his height, patting his teeny tiny head gently.

"hi megs!! where's dada?" you question, and sure enough, the adorable little cherub points enthusiastically to his father, who happens to be engaged in conversation with two women. they’re giggling obnoxiously, stroking his biceps and being overly touchy, and he seems to be enjoying it. in an instant, all your former attraction seems to dissipate in an instant. an annoyed huff escapes you— of course, he's a manwhore. you should've known, he seems like just the type, but letting your kid leave your sight was just completely unacceptable.

feeling pissed, you can practically feel a vein bulge in your forehead. you’re going to knock some sense into that thick skull of his. scooping up megumi, you march up to toji, making sure to be extra cautious while holding him in your arms. what was he thinking? is it like this all the time? him getting distracted by a pair of tits and forgetting about his own son? seriously, this man needs to get his act together.

as soon as he’s in range, your free hand swiftly makes contact with the back of toji's head, letting out a loud ‘thwack’ noise on impact. he lets out a painful groan. "the fuck?" toji curses, rubbing the back of his head. unfazed, you return his sass with a stern expression.

"the hell do you think you're doing? talking to girls instead of taking care of your kid? no wonder 'gumi wanders off all the time, you didn't even notice he went missing! stop thinking with your dick all the time and start thinking with your head!!" you scold the older man as he scoffs. "me? you're one to talk, buying a rubber cock for your lonely ass. who the hell are you to judge my parenting?"

you're about to retaliate when the two girls exchange a glance, scowling in annoyance as they side-eye both you and toji. "y'know, if you were married, you could've just said so in the beginning." one of the girls pipes up as the other nods her head. "yeah, stop wasting our time loser, lets go." and before he can respond, they storm off dramatically. he rolls his eyes at them, sticking up his middle finger at their backs.

“whatever. they were bitches anyways. and you’re a real killjoy.” you flick his forehead lightly. “the fact that i, a complete random stranger, takes better care of this kid than you is quite concerning.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he mumbles snarkily, attempting to snatch megumi away from you. he can’t believe his eyes when the chubby little baby starts to tear up, clutching onto you tighter and repeating babbles of ‘mama.’ “megumi, get down from there!” toji hisses. “listen, ya little brat, that ain’t your momma.” glaring, you attempt to hand back the stubborn ‘brat’ to his father, but to your (and his) dismay, he continues to latch onto you with an iron grip. if you didn’t know any better, with how megumi was acting, you’d think toji had never dealt with a child before. all he did was glare daggers at the both of you; the longer the interaction went on, the more irritated he got. a scolding glare towards his son, then the stranger.

“for the last time, stop clinging to that woman! she isn’t your mother.” the poor baby’s eyes glass over, about to burst into tears as you rock him in your arms, letting out a huff in annoyance. “calm your whining. you think he’s going to listen if all you do is yell?”

“fine. i’ll just… pick him up then.” toji grumbled, looking annoyed as he bent over to retrieve his son from your arms. as soon as he picked him up, megumi began wiggling and trying to get away from his father. “stop that.” toji’s face was filled with annoyance as his son’s stubby little fingers wrap around your shirt tightly. he tries his best to be gentle as he pries the baby away from you, yet the little boy began to cry and reach for you. it was clear the youngest fushiguro had developed a strong attachment to you, the stranger who helped him once before.

“‘gumi…” you coo in the softest voice you can manage, pinching his cheek softly. “listen to dada, okay? i’ll buy you ice cream if you’re good.” at the sound of a frozen treat, he instantly stops crying and settles into his papa’s arms, gurgling happily. toji looks at you in utter shock; he lost count of the amount of times he had tried so talk some sense into his little son— but just once from some random stranger, he chooses to listen. the 6’2 sorcerer sighs in defeat, sending his baby another scowl.

clearly, megumi has no sense of loyalty.

— “well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re jus’ following me now.” for the third time, you guessed it: toji fushiguro. at this point, it was becoming harder to dismiss these encounters as mere coincidences; had the universe suddenly decide to play matchmaker?

“huh?” you scoff, glancing up from your notepad. of course, he had to choose this exact coffee shop to stroll into while you were on your shift. “i work here.” he eyes you cockily, emanating more of that stupidly hot confidence that somehow makes your heart beat just a little faster than it should.

“be honest— you really just got the job cause you heard i’d be here today.” deadpanning, you roll your eyes. he can’t be serious; he’s such a manchild. “yes, because you’re such a celebrity. where’s megs?” you question, noticing the absence of the adorable baby usually accompanied by his obnoxiously sexy father.

“daycare.” he responds with a lazy drawl, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers down your spine. he seemed engrossed with picking something at his nails, the nonchalant demeanor accentuating the sculpted lines of his features. "you know, it's a shame. you seem a lot less charming without a certain little one running around." you yawn, deliberately trying to piss him off.

as if challenging you, he straightens up, piercing grey eyes locked onto yours. leaning forward onto the counter, his proximity sparks something in your core— was he always this pretty? no wonder he’s popular. his lips look so damn kissable. (you wonder how they’d feel against your own.) your heartbeat picks up as you find yourself unable to keep eye contact, pupils darting elsewhere. you really hope your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“…u-um. your order?” he grins cockily, pulling back at your surrender. “an espresso. and here, the extra dollar's for you.” he casually tosses you a crumpled wad of cash, and at a glance, worth just a little over one dollar and fifty cents. …you can already sense a burgeoning headache destined to plague you by the end of the day.

“…just— whatever. keep the money. it’s on the house.” you groan, escaping from the dumbass man to the back to retrieve the coffee beans. as you scour the shelves stocked with coffee supplies, you attempt to find the espresso beans.

you thoughts, however, are interrupted when your coworker suddenly pops up, prompting an involuntary shriek and effectively scaring the shit out of you. she beams brightly, enthusiasm radiating from her as she clutches onto your arm, ignoring your reaction completely.

“that customer is just my type!! tall, handsome, hot… mind switching with me, please, please, pleeeeeease??” she begs, her eyes wide with desperation and in her best attempt to coax you. you end up relenting pretty easily— after all, you owe her for the numerous overtime hours she's covered for you, but you can't ignore the unmistakable pang of jealousy tugging at your heart. what’s wrong with you? you shouldn’t care, not in the slightest. shouldn't. he's a random stranger who you just so happened to bump into three times now. toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. but for some reason, you find yourself growing… attached.

your eyes follow your coworker, parading out of the storage room with her lips freshly glossed and a flirty smile on her face. a pang of annoyance prickles at you; you're sure he'll absolutely eat her up.

determined to distance yourself from the sight, you trudge over to the adjacent cash register, taking over for your fellow coworker's customer. a friendly smile graces the face of the person in front of you.

"hi." he smiles brightly, greeting you in a friendly manner. "can i get an iced americano?" you nod, ringing his order up. his request is met with a nod from you, and you smoothly proceed to ring up his order. the clinking of the coffee machine acts as a backdrop to the interaction, your mind momentarily distracted by the lingering sensation of unease in your stomach. once done, you serve the ice-cold drink to the customer, who happily takes it, eyes gleaming in satisfaction before winking charmingly.

"and an extra tip for the pretty barista." he says, his tone suggestive as he hands you a bill. is he... really hitting on you? the air thickens with an uncomfortable tension, and you mutter a somewhat awkward thanks, his smile widens, and he leans in, making you feel slightly uneasy.

"isn't this the part where you give me your number?" he teases, leaving a silent pause that hangs in the air. "uhm... i'm really sorry, but... uh-" before you can finish, he boldly grabs one of your hands from across the counter, getting a little too close for comfort. "no need to say anything, cutie. our lips can do the talking." the fuck is wrong with this creep?

you attempt to snatch your hand back, but his grip is like iron. panic starts to set in as beads of sweat form on your forehead. what are you supposed to do in this situation?

just as the tension becomes nearly unbearable, a large hand intervenes, firmly gripping the weirdo's collar. a hand you so thankfully recognize intervenes just in the nick of time. toji's voice, dripping with venom, cuts through the charged atmosphere.

"why the fuck are you touching my spouse?" his snarl, coupled with an ice-cold glare, sends shivers down even your spine. a plausible lie, and extremely believeable. the smaller man stutters, his eyes searching frantically for an escape from toji's wrath. "i-i, um..." he stutters, eyes looking frantically for help. without a moment's hesitation, toji forcefully drops the intruder to the floor, his intense glare bearing down on the now-submissive figure.

"next time, i'll make sure you pay for it." he warns with a chilling undertone, his voice resonating with a quiet but unmistakable threat.

— seven days after the incident, you find solace in a quaint bookstore, its ambiance offering a quiet and peaceful haven for your studying. you're deep in thought, productivity at an all time high. however, the tranquility is soon disrupted by the unmistakable bickering of a child, no older than two, engaged in what seems like a standoff with a fully grown adult. who in the hell would argue with a kid...?

suspiciously, you stand up, leaving your laptop unattended for a split second to take a peek into the book aisle where the sound was coming from. and just as you suspected; there stands toji fushiguro. you suppress a giggle seeing him all crouched over, a pissy expression on his face.

"ya little rat, go give this to y/n. mama. mama, y'hear?" he hisses under his breath, his words an amusing blend of authority and exasperation. he attempts to give a rose to the stubborn little cherub, who violently shakes his head in refusal. holding a book almost as big as himself, he stomps his tiny foot, lifting the curious george volume even higher, adorned with a big pout that adds an extra layer of adorableness to the scene. "i'll read to you later, so just-"

"well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re just following me now."

you quip, echoing the words he tossed your way exactly a week ago. a smug grin stretches across your face, savoring the sweet taste of his embarrassment. he whirls around, momentarily losing his cool, a curse escaping his lips as he throws his head back. is that a hint of pink dusting his cheeks? you can't help but revel in delight. and as if on cue, megumi beams at you, his small frame waddling towards you with unbridled joy as you scoop him up with ease.

"mama!!" he cheers as you ruffle his hair playfully before turning your attention back to the other 6'2 baby towering over you. "looks to me like you're the obsessed stalker." you tease, a genuine grin stretching across your face. wiping a mock tear from your eye, you catch a glimpse of toji's eye roll, his attempt to feign composure failing as a trace of a pout plays on his lips.

"shuttup," he groans, rubbing the back of his head. he attempts to use this banter as a distraction, sneakily concealing the gift behind his back. but you're not one to be outplayed.

"not so fast..." you grin, skillfully snatching the crimson rose from his grasp before he can offer any protest. it's undeniably pretty, and you find yourself admiring it, a soft smile playing on your lips. you glance back at toji who, now hands tucked into his pockets, deliberately avoids eye contact. "never knew you were much of a charmer." you playfully jest, twirling the delicate flower between your fingers as a teasing smile graces your lips.

"i'm not." he shrugs, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. you set megumi down, allowing him to gleefully grab another dr. seuss picture book.

"awww, so then am i just special?" you snicker, lashes fluttering softly, the lighthearted banter echoing through the quiet aisles of the bookstore. perhaps a little too loudly, as an employee, with an air of rudeness, suggests that all three of you should be a little more discreet before you're escorted out.

apologizing profusely, you struggle to contain your laughter as the employee, irritated by the disturbance, makes a dramatic exit. unbeknownst to him, however, a janitor quietly mops the floors right behind him— resulting in an unfortunate slip and a rather audible rip as his pants succumb to the unforeseen mishap. your face turns pink, and you bite your lip, desperately trying to stifle your laughter to avoid drawing further attention and the risk of being kicked out.

you manage to slap toji's mouth shut, a preemptive measure against the impending witch cackle that could escape if left unchecked. the employee shoots both of you one last glare, clearly unimpressed, before huffing and storming off in a hasty retreat.

exchanging a knowing glance with toji, you finally peel your hand off his mouth, the quiet snickering between you two escalating into unrestrained laughter. as the atmosphere gradually settles, you can't help but notice toji's intense gaze fixed upon you, a look that goes beyond mere amusement.

it's a gaze so deep, so penetrating, that it seems to hold an enchantment of its own. in that moment, you feel like the protagonist in a love-struck tale, caught in the gaze of someone who sees more than just the surface.

toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. …but… you think you can manage.

and so you find your arms slinking around his waist, a huge, unwavering grin plastered on your face. "you're such a baby, y'know? if you liked me you could've just asked for my number." he grumbles under his breath, yet tugs you closer to his body warmth. rolling his eyes, he flicks your forehead, lips curving up into a smile. "you're the worst."

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Tethering Ties

Summary - Betrothed by the King's decree to repair a fractured royal lineage, neither finds joy in their union. Tensions flare at dinner, resulting in a violent altercation that leaves her injured. Aegon chooses an unconventional way to apologise, his mouth between her legs.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x Strong reader

Warnings - Sexual content (oral f!receiving), violence, mild language

Word count - 2485

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Her children are bastards and she is a whore."

The phrase slithered through the hallowed corridors of King's Landing like a serpent, venomous and unrelenting. It clung to my siblings and me like a second skin, an indelible mark of shame etched into our very souls.

I tried to ignore the whispers and stares, but their impact lingered, a heavy burden on my heart. 

My betrothed, Prince Aegon Targaryen, was displeased when he learned of the King's decision. Marrying his firstborn son to his firstborn granddaughter was intended to mend the fragile relationships within our family, but it brought him no joy.

As the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones, the Red Keep loomed ahead, its towering walls a reminder of past glories and present fears. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone. This was not just a homecoming, it was a return to the heart of a nest of vipers.

I accepted the hand of my brother, Jace who looked at me with a pitiful expression, which only deepened my misery. 

"Do not look at me as if I am a wounded pup," I murmured. "I refuse to wallow in despair."

Jace merely shrugged, unable to hide his concern. As I turned, I felt another arm slip into mine. It was my younger brother, Luke, his innocent brown eyes gazing up at me with unwavering trust. His presence was a small comfort.

There was no welcome party awaiting us upon our arrival, an absence that I expected. The grandeur of King's Landing seemed hollow, a silent testament to the tension that permeated the air. 

Instead, we were left to settle into our chambers, the hours dragging by until dinner, where the family would finally convene.

I absentmindedly fingered the pendant around my neck, a dragon, wrought in gold. It was a gift from my mother, a reminder of the legacy I was bound to but today, it felt more like a chain than a symbol of power.

As we entered the dining hall, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken animosity. The long table, laden with lavish dishes, seemed more like a battlefield than a place of familial gathering. 

My betrothed, Aegon, sat beside me, his face a mask of displeasure. Across from us sat my brothers, Jace and Luke.

"Princess," a voice called out, and my head shot up. My eyes turned to my grandsire, the King, who looked withered and worn. "I trust the journey from Dragonstone was well," he continued.

"Yes, Your Grace, the journey was well, tiring but well," I answered, and he smiled at me proudly.

My eyes flicked to my mother, who gave me a reassuring look and a tight-lipped smile. Not a single person in this room was entirely pleased with the arrangement the King had so eagerly requested.

This marriage was supposed to unite our fractured family, but all I could see were the chains it would bind me in. A future of duty, not of choice.

Next, I turned to the Queen, who was looking in my direction but not at me. Her expression was firm as she seemed to be scolding her son in a hushed tone, and he grumbled next to me.

"Princess, I hope you are well," he said, turning to me as his mother looked away. I held back a sigh, clearing my throat before responding. 

"Prince Aegon, it has been quite some time since we've last seen each other," I pointed out, my hand tightening around my chalice as he downed his drink in a single gulp, motioning for it to be refilled.

"Yes, that may have to do with the night your brother maimed mine," he said with a smile as if it were a simple jest.

"You are correct," I said, my grip on the chalice loosening as my confidence returned. "The same night the Queen demanded the eye of my brother in retaliation, the eye of a young boy simply defending himself from heinous accusations you informed your brother of,"

To my surprise, instead of getting angry, Aegon laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"I am glad to see that the match seems to be faring well," Viserys said, and all I could muster was a polite smile. If only he knew.

"I don't want this," I admitted quietly, feeling his scoff next to me. 

"And you think I do?" he retorted, his tone sharp as I rolled my eyes. 

"All I'm saying is that I am not going to be subdued," I added meeting his gaze head-on. He raised an eyebrow, urging me to continue.

"You may be a prince, but I am a princess," I asserted, my voice steady. "My mother is next in line for the Iron Throne, and if I wish it, I will be after her. I do not plan on being trapped in a castle, producing heirs," I finished, taking a deliberate sip of my drink.

"Oh, my sweet niece," Aegon began. "How you have grown, you do not know the joy it brings me to know my future wife is such a fierce and ambitious lady," he added sincerely.

"I quite appreciate the idea of having such a challenging partner," he whispered the words into my ear, his breath tickling my neck as he pulled away ever so slowly.

Aegon's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something that spoke of more than just duty. Was it resentment? Regret? Or something more dangerous? I couldn't tell, and that uncertainty only deepened my unease.

Dinner continued in strained silence, the earlier tension still palpable. Each forced smile and stilted conversation was a reminder of the precarious nature of our situation. 

My mind wandered as time went on.

It didn't take long until dinner had come to an end, and the adults began to retire to their chambers. Only the younger members of the family were left behind, the room now significantly quieter. 

The tension, however, remained.

Aemond, ever the provocateur, fixed his one good eye on Luke, a predatory gleam in his gaze. He raised his goblet with a mocking smile. 

"To the arrangement of my brother Aegon and my niece," he began, his voice dripping with malice. "You have all grown into quite respectable, charming, strong individuals."

My eyes quickly flickered to Jace and Luke, sensing the tension mounting. Jace clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around his goblet, but it was Luke who reacted first.

"What did you say?" Luke's voice trembled with barely contained fury. 

He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. Aemond's smirk widened, and he rose from his seat, towering over Luke. "You dare deny it?"

In an instant, Luke lunged at Aemond, fists flying. The room erupted into chaos as the two collided, their movements a blur of anger and violence. The sound of fists hitting flesh and furniture crashing to the ground filled the air.

"Enough!" I shouted, trying to intervene, but my voice was drowned out by the tumult.

Jace sprang to his feet, moving to pull Luke off Aemond, but the younger boy was relentless, his fury driving him forward. Aemond fought back with equal ferocity, a cruel smile playing on his lips even as he exchanged blows with Luke.

Before I could react, Aemond's arm swung out wildly, and his fist connected with my face. 

Pain exploded across my cheek, and I stumbled backwards, my vision blurring. Blood trickled from my split lip, and I could taste its metallic tang.

Aegon and Jace reacted simultaneously. Jace leapt at Aemond with a roar, fists flying, while Aegon pulled me back from the fray, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Stay back!" he insisted, his voice tight with anger.

The dining hall descended into utter chaos. Jace and Aemond were locked in a furious struggle, their movements wild and desperate. Aegon kept me shielded behind him, his eyes darting between the brawl.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked urgently, his hand brushing against my bruised cheek. The anger in his eyes was mixed with worry, a stark contrast to his usual aloof demeanour.

"I'm fine," I managed to reply pushing him away, though my voice shook.

Aegon stepped forward, his presence commanding enough to momentarily halt the fight. 

"Enough!" he roared, grabbing Aemond by the shoulder and pulling him away from Jace.

Aemond struggled against Aegon's grip, but the arrival of the Kingsguard finally brought the brawl to an end. The guards separated the combatants, their stern faces brooking no argument.

"Luke, Jace, let's go," I demanded, grabbing both of their arms. 

I cast one final glance back towards the dining hall, where Aegon was engaged in conversation with Aemond. Aegon looked over at me, and all I could manage was a solemn shake of my head.

Tonight, the fragile peace had shattered, and the consequences were far from over.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its silvery glow as I stood in my chamber, tending to the wound on my face with a hot cloth. 

I couldn't stop the flood of conflicting emotions. Anger at Aemond, frustration with my brothers, and a deep, gnawing fear of what this marriage would truly mean. Aegon's unexpected tenderness only added to my confusion.

Just as I was about to press the fabric against my skin, a firm knock echoed through the room. With a resigned sigh, I set aside the cloth and moved to open the door.

To my surprise, Aegon stood before me as I swung the door wide.

"What do you want?" I asked curtly, annoyance evident in my tone, I turned away, expecting him to leave.

Instead, he stepped inside, ignoring my dismissal. 

"I am merely seeing if you are alright," he said, taking the cloth from my hands and guiding me to sit. He dabbed at my injury, his touch surprisingly tender.

Aegon's hand reached out, brushing against my bruised cheek. I flinched, pulling back instinctively. He chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in the sound. 

"Do not pretend to care," I snapped, hating the tremor in my voice. He didn’t retreat, just tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Alright," he admitted, his gaze unwavering. "I came to see you. It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"What are you really after, Aegon?" I demanded, fixing him with a sceptical glare.

"You've caught me," he replied smoothly, closing the distance between us. "It seems time has only sharpened your wit and beauty," he continued, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

"You've grown so beautifully over the years," he murmured, his voice sincere yet unsettling.

"All I wanted," he murmured, his tone laced with suggestive intent, "was to see how you feel, how you'd make me feel."

Without thinking, I reacted, my hand snapping across his face in a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, breaking the tense silence like a crack of lightning

He recoiled, a hand flying to his stinging face, while I stood there, a mixture of disbelief and indignation flooding my senses. My own hand flew to cover my mouth, stunned by both his brazenness and shock at my own action.

"Aegon," I murmured, my voice barely audible as he chuckled softly. "I didn't..." The words failed me, hanging in the air between us. 

He tilted his head, his jaw clicking before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Tell me to leave," he said, his voice a mix of challenge and invitation. I wanted to, truly, but the words stuck in my throat. 

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop," he continued, taking another step closer, his gaze unwavering as it searched my face for any sign of resistance.

There was none.

"Okay," he murmured, his fingers threading gently through my hair. He loomed over me, a commanding presence as I sat in my chair.

Suddenly, he knelt before me, his hands hiking up my nightgown with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, his voice low and insistent. 

I shook my head, a barely audible "no" escaping my lips. His smirk deepened, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

His face disappeared between my legs, and he began trailing small, wet kisses along my inner thighs. The sensation sent shivers through me, making me squirm in my seat. I bit my lip, a soft moan escaping as his mouth moved closer to where I wanted him most.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need. "Don't stop."

Encouraged by my words, Aegon intensified his efforts. He started by kissing the sensitive skin at the crease of my thigh, his lips soft and warm. His tongue flicked out, teasing me with light, fluttering touches. 

He took his time, exploring the area with a deliberate, languid pace, savouring every reaction he elicited from me. Each touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me arch towards him, seeking more.

He moved closer, his breath hot against my skin, and then his mouth was on me. His tongue parted my folds, moving in slow, sensual circles around my clit. He alternated between gentle, teasing flicks and firm, insistent strokes, driving me wild with desire. 

I gasped, my hands flying to his head, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close, urging him on.

He was relentless, his mouth working skillfully, driving me to the edge again and again. My breaths came in ragged gasps as he sucked lightly, then harder, his tongue darting out to tease and tantalize. 

The intensity of the sensations built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure winding inside me, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aegon," I moaned, my voice breaking as I teetered on the brink. 

He responded with a deep, satisfied hum, the vibration sending a jolt of ecstasy through me. His lips and tongue moved faster, more insistently, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

With a final, shuddering gasp, I fell over the edge, my body convulsing in pure ecstasy. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its dance, drawing out my pleasure until I was utterly spent, collapsing back into the chair, breathless and trembling.

Aegon pulled away slowly, his eyes meeting mine with a smug, satisfied look. 

"Consider that an apology," he said, his voice a seductive whisper.

I nodded, unable to form words, my mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just transpired. His mouth was glistening with my release, and he licked his lips with a self-satisfied smirk.

With a final, lingering gaze, Aegon stood up, straightening his clothes with unhurried confidence. He turned and made his way to the door, each step deliberate, leaving me in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

I watched him leave, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of his touch. As the door closed behind him, I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to collect myself. My heart was still racing, my skin flushed with the memory of his mouth on me.

Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips.

A/n - Aegon's idea of a "warm welcome" involves more than just a friendly handshake, he's just really into making an impression x

[novaursa]

Good evening love

I was thinking about that last night!

When Daemon and Rhaenyra goes to brothel they sleep together and obviously she’s pregnant and coz it’s just before her wedding (we will says it just before) everyone thing it’s Leanor.

She gave birth to a little girl all Targaryen looks. They’re was always some rumors but since she looks like every targ it’s easier for her. Harwin played dad role for her and she’s really protective of her brother.

more time passed and everyone can clearly see that she looked exactly like daemon physically and mentally.

And it’s finally during the funeral of her aunt, Daemon see her and he understand that she is his. She’s everything he want and have a special bound with her (first child, heir of the throne, powerful dragon)

Fire in Her Veins

- Summary: During Laena’s funeral, Daemon recognizes you as his own blood. 

- Paring: (daughter) targ!reader/(father) Daemon Targaryen (platonic)

- Note: The reader is the firstborn child and only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. The reader is also bonded to Vermithor.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sea air on Driftmark is filled with salt and sorrow, the crashing waves of the Narrow Sea providing a mournful backdrop to the solemn gathering. You stand with your brothers on the stone cliffs of the island, your hands clasped tightly together in front of you as the funeral procession moves solemnly forward. Lady Laena’s casket is adorned with pearls and driftwood, her body wrapped in the traditional Velaryon colors, and you can feel the weight of your family’s grief pressing heavily upon your shoulders.

The mood is somber, the sky above gray and heavy, as if even the gods mourn the loss of Laena Velaryon. The Velaryon banners flap in the wind, and from where you stand, you see the faces of the royal family—Alicent and her children, all clustered together, keeping their distance from you and your brothers. Their green dresses stand out like bright flames against the dark ocean and black mourning attire. 

You feel a familiar pang of protectiveness as you glance toward your brothers, who are standing just to your right, their small faces grim and pale. You notice how Jacaerys keeps his head down, avoiding the stern gazes from across the gathering. You recognize the unspoken tension between the two halves of the family, an invisible line that divides you all.

Behind you, you hear the murmurs of the court, soft whispers that seem to follow you wherever you go. They speak of many things—the death of Lady Laena, the grief of her husband Daemon, and the unspoken truth that seems to hang in the air around you. The truth of who you are. 

"She looks more like him every day," you overhear a noblewoman whisper, though she thinks she is being quiet enough to go unnoticed.

And you know who they mean. Not Laenor Velaryon, who raised you as his own. Not Harwin Strong, who shielded you when you were small, his fierce protectiveness marking him as a father figure in your life. But Daemon.

Your eyes, so like his—stormy, burning with fire—scan the crowd until they land on him.

Daemon Targaryen stands just beyond the gathering of mourners, his face half-hidden beneath his hood, his silver hair blowing in the wind. There is something wild about him, something untamed, as though he belongs to the sea and the sky more than he belongs to the earth. He looks broken today, mourning his wife, but in his eyes there is a flicker of something as he catches your gaze—recognition, perhaps.

Your heart beats harder, and you lift your chin, a Targaryen through and through. You are not afraid to meet his gaze. In fact, there’s something in you that draws you closer to him, though your feet remain rooted to the ground.

Daemon's eyes narrow, the brief glint of recognition becoming a full realization. His mouth parts slightly as if he is going to speak, but no words come out. You see the flicker of memory in his gaze, a moment that stretches back to the night you were conceived—the night Rhaenyra escaped into the shadows of King's Landing, into his arms, if only for a single stolen moment.

The likeness between the two of you is undeniable, your shared features as plain as day to anyone who cared to look closely. Your high cheekbones, the curve of your lips, the storm in your gaze. And there is something more than just the physical—an energy, a fierceness that burns in you as much as it does in him.

"Y/N," Daemon murmurs your name under his breath as he steps forward, moving as though drawn to you by some unseen force.

You do not step back. You hold your ground, standing taller, your spine straight. You are not the little girl who needed protection anymore. You are Rhaenyra’s daughter, the rider of Vermithor, a dragon like no other. 

Your brothers shift uncomfortably beside you as Daemon approaches, and you gently place a hand on Jacaerys’ shoulder, a silent reassurance that you will protect them. They are yours, just as much as you are theirs, and no one, not even Daemon, can change that.

“Do you remember me?” Daemon’s voice is low, so low that only you can hear it. His eyes never leave yours.

Your lips part, but words fail you for a moment. You do remember him through your memory as he was a ghost—and the stories your mother told you, the truths she revealed as you grew older. You remember the fire that courses through your veins, the unyielding bond with your dragon, the instincts that set you apart. It all comes from him.

"How could I not?" you reply, your voice steady, even though inside you feel like a storm is brewing.

Daemon’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smile—it’s something darker, something more conflicted. He glances toward your mother, Rhaenyra, who stands a little ways off, her eyes firmly fixed on Laena’s casket. There is a tension between them as well, a history that lingers in the air, unspoken but understood.

“You look like her,” Daemon says quietly, but his eyes say otherwise. He knows you look like him. 

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. You have always heard the whispers, the stories, but standing before him now, there is something more intimate in the way he observes you. He is seeing himself in you, recognizing the dragon fire in your blood, the legacy of your shared heritage.

“I look like myself,” you correct, your tone sharper now. “I am my mother’s daughter.”

“And mine,” Daemon replies, his voice a murmur carried by the wind.

You hold his gaze, your heart thudding in your chest, but you do not back down. For years, you had wondered what it would be like to stand face to face with the man whose blood flows in your veins. Now that you are here, you find that you do not need his acknowledgment. You do not need his approval.

You are who you are, no matter who claims you.

"I didn’t need you before," you say, your voice low but firm. "I don’t need you now."

The wind blows harder, carrying your words with it, and Daemon stares at you for a long moment before he nods, almost imperceptibly. There is something in his eyes now—perhaps regret, perhaps something else entirely.

"You are strong," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "That much is clear."

You nod, not offering him anything more, and you turn away, your brothers following you as you lead them away from the cliff’s edge and back toward the safety of your family. The tension in your shoulders slowly fades as you walk away from Daemon, though you can still feel his eyes on your back, watching you as you go.

As the sea crashes against the rocks below, you feel a sense of finality, but also a strange kind of peace. You are your mother’s daughter. You are bonded to a dragon as mighty as Vermithor. You do not need anyone to tell you who you are.

And yet, you cannot help but wonder what it might mean to carry the fire of both Rhaenyra and Daemon, to have the blood of two dragons raging inside of you.

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[bunnylovesani]

Cherry Popping

Summary: When you’re left alone with your father’s good friend James Kelly, you try to seduce him- but you soon realise you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

Content warnings: Mild dubcon, loss of virginity, rough p in v sex, fingering, choking, degradation, humiliation, creampie

WC: 2.8k

You’d gotten used to James hanging around- you’d spent many of your childhood summers peering into the garage where he worked with your father. A long time had passed since he was just a mechanic’s apprentice but he maintained a close friendship with your family, often coming by on weekends for a cold beer and catch up. Everything had remained the same for years- everything apart from you.

As you grew older, the way you looked at him changed. Thanks to a fresh influx of hormones, you were filled with a newfound curiosity for him- his familiarity was washed away and replaced with anxious desire. Now prior to his arrival, you’d spritz yourself with perfume and change into something short and pink. Your dad, being endearingly clueless as usual, would comment on how nice the floral fragrance that his princess was wearing was and you’d squeak out “Thanks daddy! Just tryin’ out somethin’ new, ya know?”

As was your routine, you’d skip along happily to the garage whenever you heard the familiar hum of his engine and you’d practise working up the nerve to ask him if he wanted something to drink. He’d flash you a bright smile that made you weak in the knees and usually declined your offer, insisting he could get it himself. You always felt a little saddened, sorely craving the opportunity to show him care and attention with some good old-fashioned hospitality.

On one particular weekend, you’d spent the day attending to your dad- who had elected to stay home from work after battling a nasty virus for the entirety of the previous night. James- ever gracious- came over bearing medicine and various snacks as soon as he found out, stepping into the lounge where your dad lay to crack some distasteful joke and bring him a canister of tea before leaving him to nap.

“I could’ve done that.” You murmured once he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

“No need, we wouldn’t want you catching whatever your old man’s got.” He smiles earnestly and you feel your breath catch in your throat as your mind goes blank, an increasingly awkward silence lingering between you.

“So how is everything, kid? School going well and all that?” He diffuses the tension.

“I’m not in school anymore James.” You giggle at how misinformed he is.

“Ah my bad, I guess I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” He looks away, rubbing the back of his head and you can’t help but admire his gorgeous side profile, choppy dark hair framing his sculpted face.

“And how well would you like to know me?” You mumble, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry?” He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head at you, assuming he misheard you.

“Nothing- you know, the lightbulb in the bathroom needs changing and I just can’t reach it! Could you help me?” You ask in your sweetest voice, batting your eyelashes.

“Of course, in here?” He points to the bathroom down the hallway, stepping in.

“Yep, the ceiling is too tall and I can’t find anything to step on.” You hold the bulb in your hand and huff defeatedly.

“I’ll go grab a chair-“

“Or you could just give me a leg up.” You interrupt, wanting desperately to feel his calloused hands wrapped securely around you.

“Uh-I mean, sure.” He stutters, realising he doesn’t have much of a choice when your hands make their way to his broad shoulders.

You jump up as his firm grip tightens over your barely clothed thighs and hips, holding you up with bated breath. You pretend to fiddle with the screw of the bulb, prolonging the moment as you memorise every detail of his touch on your skin.

“You got it?” He asks uncomfortably, facing the opposite direction from you.

“Yeah, almost! It’s just so - ugh- damn slippery!” You pretend, making sure to stretch out so that your already short skirt is further raised- hem brushing against his knuckles. “Just can’t seem to get it in…” You mumble and he looks up at you, shooting you an unconvinced glare.

“If you wanted me to touch you, you could’ve just said.” He sighs, unamused with your little act.

“I-I don’t know what you mean James, I’m just struggling with the bulb.” You chuckle incredulously before he drops you a little, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a gasp. “James! I-“

“You’ve done enough talking.” He mutters and lowers you against the sink, your legs still wrapped around his torso as he lifts up your skirt, taking a peek at your lace panties. You’re rendered speechless- you don’t know what you were expecting when you were being flirty but it wasn’t this.

“You’re over 18, right?” He stops for a moment, both hands squishing the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Yes, way over.” You huff- how did he still think you were a kid?

“Enough with the attitude.” He grabs you by the cheeks with one hand and stares right through you with steely blue eyes. “You think you’re all grown up now? Ready to be treated like a real woman?” He asks you with such intensity it feels like a life or death matter.

“I am.” You mumble and bite your lip nervously. You had no idea what he had in mind for you but you knew you wanted it all, whatever it was.

“You’re certainly dressed like it.” He inspects your low-cut top and short skirt, now hitched around your hips with your thong on display for him. “You’re asking for it walking around like this. And daddy just lets you? If you were my daughter, you’d never be allowed to parade around my friends dressed like a slut. Perverts would be thinking all sorts of things.” His eyes roam your body, fingers lifting your top and caressing the bare skin underneath.

“You mean perverts like you?” You blink at him innocently.

“Exactly.” A grin spreads across his face as he grabs you by the throat and brings you closer to him, his warm breath on your neck. “I want to ruin you.” He drawled in his husky, deep voice and you felt the damp spot in your panties spreading.

You need him to know how much you want him so you lean in to meet his lips in a soft, touching embrace. You feel his smirk disperse into the kiss and he pulls away, laughing.

“What’s funny?” You curve your eyebrows into an adorable swoop.

“You kiss like a…like a-“

“A little girl?” You cross your arms. “How would you know how a little girl kisses?”

“Don’t be an idiot, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just so….innocent. You kiss like you’ve never been hurt before. Like you’ve already given yourself to me.” He brushes past your cheeks with his knuckles.

“That’s because I have.” You declare as you peel off your top, revealing your bare chest to him in the process since you’d decided to forego a bra. He stares at your perky breasts in awe, cupping one softly and brushing over your nipple with his thumb. His cock twitches at the sight of you exposed all for him, legs spread and tits out while your father was asleep down the hall.

“How pretty…when did these grow?” He notes amusedly as his touch becomes harsher, squeezing them with some force. A shudder spreads over your body as your legs instinctively part, needing to feel him inside you.

“Want me to pop your cherry, baby?” He offers and you wince at his lusty tone. Before you even get the chance to nod in confirmation, he’s pulling your panties down, tossing them behind him.

“You know how this is done, yeah?” He asks with half his attention, focus stolen by the sight of your glisteningly wet pussy.

“Uhuh, I do. I’ve seen it.” You choke out anxiously.

“Of course you do, such a smart girl. Have you been watching naughty videos?” He spreads your thighs with an iron grip, gazing directly into the creaminess forming between your legs.

“Only once or twice.” You insist, worried you were going to get in trouble.

“It’s okay darlin’, perfectly natural to be curious about these things.” He rubs his thumb across your clit and you flinch a little at the unfamiliar sensation. “I bet you’ve been struggling with some new feelings, haven’t you?”

You furrow your eyebrows and hang your head in shame. “I get this fuzzy feeling right there where you’re touching me- and it doesn’t go away for so long! Feels like butterflies and I don’t know how to get rid of them.”

“Poor baby, that sounds so tough. You just need someone to help you out, don’t you? Well that’s what daddy’s friends are for, sweetheart.” He coos affectionately and you lean into his touch, feeling so protected.

“Please help me.” You whine, slender fingers fidgeting with the zip of his jeans.

“Such a needy little thing.” He mutters, pushing your hands away to undo the trousers himself, sliding them off until he’s in nothing but his black boxers. Your face scrunches up in disbelief as your fingertips trail the outline of his cock, girthy and hard.

“Don’t give me that look. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.” He redirects your attention to his voice, cupping your face and kissing you sweetly.

“You don’t have to be that gentle.” You murmur into the kiss and he chuckles breathily, hand trailing back down between your thighs to slip a finger inside you.

You gasp at the unexpected intrusion and grab onto his firm shoulder.

“Shh, it’s alright. Just need to loosen you up a lil’ bit.” He hushes you as he adds another one, strong fingers curling up into your squishy flesh. A soft moan escapes your plump lips and a fire rages in your chest when you look down at the sight of his veiny forearm situated between your spread legs, wetness pouring down his large hand.

“Please…I need it.” You whine into his mouth as he sloppily kisses you.

“Be patient, baby. I’m gonna rip you apart if you’re not ready. This tight little pussy couldn’t take it.” He consoles you, pressing his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.

“You said you wanted to ruin me, didn’t you?” You groan, the feeling of his fingers suddenly woefully inadequate. He sighs and slips them out, resting his palm on the cold basin by your thigh.

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any crying.” He warns you with a raised eyebrow before slipping down his boxers and releasing his throbbing cock. You’d never seen one before but your mouth watered and your eyes darkened with lust at the sight.

“Be a good girl and spread those legs for me.” Ever obedient, you open them wide as he shuffles in between you, gliding his ridged tip smoothly over your slit- making you shudder every time the soft skin brushed past your swollen clit.

He lazily pushed the tip in, not bothering to warn you beforehand and you whimpered sharply at the painful stretch. He disregards your discomfort and pushes all the way in, bottoming out until his abdomen grazed yours.

Your lips part, threatening to release another cry but he clamps his hand tightly over your mouth before it can spill out.

“Ah, ah. What did I say?” He tuts softly and stares blankly at your crinkled expression. “You can take it. You’re a big girl, remember?” He begins to rock into you, stretching you out so much you have to grip the edge of the countertop, sharp edge cutting into your palms. The hand that isn’t muffling your moans is at the back of your neck, a firm grasp holding you in place on either end. In this position, he has complete control over your body. You are nothing but a fucktoy to be used for his amusement- and he doesn’t even look that amused.

Your breathy, stifled gasps continue with every thrust as you struggle to adjust to the intensity of his thrusts.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Does it hurt?” He feigns concern but you don’t pick up on his insincerity.

“Y-yes!” You choke back tears, body tensed up as his cock bullied your little cunt relentlessly.

“Good.”

He snakes his hand around your throat and squeezes until you feel your heartbeat pulsating in your neck.

“All I had to do was be a little nice and you let me stick my cock in you.” He leers mockingly. “And with daddy next door, no less. How desperate are you? Are you sure you’re even a virgin?” He swipes a towel off the rack beside him and places it between where your bodies meet. You stare at him in confusion and he smirks.

“This is so he doesn’t hear when I start pounding into you.”

He grabs the panties he tossed aside earlier and gestures for you to open your mouth.

“And this is so no one can hear you scream, baby.” He stuffs the bundle of fabric into your mouth and your eyes widen as he snaps his hips forward, slamming into you roughly. He hooks his hands under your armpits and grips you by the shoulders as he mercilessly pounds into you, the smacks of flesh all but silenced by the towel- apart from the wet sloshing that echoed off the bathroom tiles.

“Do you actually like this? Oh baby, what a sick freak. You really are perfect for me.” He moans at the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your panting growing erratic.

“Can I trust you to be quiet?” He asks and you nod vigorously, wanting so badly to gain his approval. “Yeah? I wanna hear those pretty little moans. But you have to be so quiet baby. Think you can do that f’me?” He whispers into your ear and plants a couple of wet kisses on the side of your face. A string of drool follows as he carefully removes the panties from your mouth, wiping any remnant of spit off your bottom lip with his thumb.

“There we go…” He mutters breathily, the pleasure catching up to him as his thrusts grew sloppier. This is a memory he would cherish forever: the sound of wet squelching as he fucked you into the sink.

He pulled all the way out before harshly burying himself back inside you with a smack of his hips, letting you feel every part of him as if it were your privilege and not his.

You loved the feeling of being caged under him, not able to escape even if you wanted to. The pain subsided and the fuzzy feeling returned, prompted by the way the base of his cock brushed against your clit.

“Aah- oh! Ugh, daddy.” You slurred quietly.

“Silly baby.” He teased. “I’m not your daddy.”

You babbled disjointedly as his hard thrusts sped up, your inner thighs dripping with arousal and sweat.

“Have I fucked you dumb already? Baby doesn’t even know who her daddy is anymore.” He mutters absent-mindedly, staring at the creaminess coating his dick. “I’m doing you a favour, you know? No one wants to fuck a virgin. Too much hassle. So you’re welcome.” He struggles to peel his eyes away from the sight of his painfully hard cock disappearing into your swollen pussy. “Say thank you.” He slams into you especially roughly after you don’t respond.

“Fuck! Th-thank you. Thank you James, thank you so much!” You whine, on the verge of fainting.

“Good girl. Now I’m going to pump you full of my cum- and you’re going to like it.” He sneers and you’re too fucked out to form a response, allowing him to use you in any way he desired instead.

With one final impact, he pounds into your cunt and spills his seed into you, bowing his head to bite you on the shoulder in an attempt to stifle his moans. You can’t do anything but sit there, aching and used up.

He pulls out as his heavy breaths regulate and he sits on the edge of the bathtub, admiring the way his cum leaked out of your abused hole.

“Next time, I’ll teach you how to suck my cock.” He remarks casually and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought of there being a next time.

“Open.” He slaps the side of your leg lightly. “I don’t want to see you wearing panties anymore when I’m around, okay?”

You bite your lip and nod obediently.

“Your dad was right, you really are such a good girl.”

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @slvttedoutmars @emmalandry