#his relationship was long distance and the absence had to have been felt in such strange ways

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

FADING AWAY-RAFE CAMERON

Y/N had always known that her relationship with Rafe wasn’t going to be easy. She knew the risks, how different they were, how their worlds never quite meshed, how people whispered behind their backs, judging them for even being in the same room. Rafe was a Kook, born into privilege and wrapped in a world of wealth and expectations. She was a Pogue, barely scraping by, fighting for every little piece of freedom and respect she could get.

And yet, despite the glaring differences, Y/N had believed in them. She believed in the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, in the way his touch felt like home, in the way their conversations lasted late into the night, and how every laugh shared between them felt like a secret just for the two of them. There was something there. Something real. At least, that’s what she told herself.

But lately, things had changed.

The moments of tenderness were becoming fewer and farther between. Where once Rafe had sought her out, now he barely looked at her. Where he had once reached for her hand in the middle of a crowded room, now he seemed to avoid her touch. His calls became infrequent, his texts dry and detached. The way he would glance at her when they were together, cold, distant, almost like she was a stranger, cut through her chest with every passing day.

It wasn’t just the absence of affection that stung; it was the silence. The silence that had become so heavy between them. The unspoken words that used to be so easy to say now seemed impossible to express.

Y/N had tried to ignore it at first, telling herself it was just a phase, that maybe he was dealing with something. After all, Rafe Cameron was always wrapped up in some kind of chaos, always struggling with his own demons. Maybe he was tired, maybe he had too much going on with his family, maybe he just needed space. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing. But deep down, the gnawing doubt in her chest kept growing.

She didn’t know how long she could pretend.

The tipping point came one evening, a night that felt just like all the others, except that it was the first time Y/N realized how much he had really slipped away.

They were sitting at a bonfire on the beach, surrounded by the usual crew, Kiara, JJ, Pope, and a few others who had come to let off some steam after a long week. Everyone was laughing, talking, passing around drinks, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation. She kept glancing over at Rafe, who was sitting with a group of his Kook friends, laughing, his head thrown back, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He had barely looked in her direction all night. The way he was engrossed in his conversation with them, the way he had kept his distance from her, stung more than it should have. They were always surrounded by people, but it used to be different. She used to be able to find him in a crowd, to catch his eye, to share a smile, a laugh. Now, it was like she was invisible.

She stood up, the warm sand beneath her feet doing little to ground her as she walked toward the group. As she approached Rafe, he didn’t look up right away, didn’t seem to notice her presence until she was standing directly in front of him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

He glanced up, his eyes dull and distant. For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even recognize her. Then his lips curled into that lazy, indifferent smile, the same one he wore when he didn’t really care about anything, or anyone.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone flat.

Y/N’s heart sank, but she forced herself to keep it together. “You’ve been kind of distant lately,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “Is everything okay?”

Rafe took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as if he didn’t even hear her question. “I’m fine.”

That was it. No concern. No acknowledgment. No tenderness.

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But the truth was glaring at her now. The coldness in his voice, the indifference in his eyes, it wasn’t the Rafe she had known. This wasn’t the boy who once pulled her close, who held her like she was the only thing that mattered in a world of chaos. This wasn’t the Rafe who had shared his dreams with her, who had whispered that he couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. This was someone else.

“I miss you, Rafe,” she said quietly, her heart raw.

He didn’t meet her eyes, instead looking over her shoulder like he was searching for someone else. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. Things are different now.”

The words hit her like a slap, cold and harsh. Things were different now. And deep down, she knew that meant everything had changed, that maybe they had always been on borrowed time. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, he had never felt the same way she did, that maybe she had been living in a fantasy all along.

His friends, oblivious to the moment unfolding, continued to laugh, their voices rising above the crackling fire. But all Y/N could hear was the hollow sound of her own heart breaking.

“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Okay, Rafe. If you need space, I get it. But this…this isn’t working for me.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his pocket for another cigarette, lighting it without a word. The silence between them stretched on, heavier than the night air.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat thick with unshed tears. She wanted to scream, to shake him, to force him to see her. But she knew it was pointless. She had been fighting for this, fighting for him, for so long, and now, it felt like she was losing.

With a final, aching glance at him, Y/N turned and walked away. The sound of her footsteps was muffled by the crashing waves, but the weight in her chest felt louder than ever. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away. She needed to breathe, needed to escape the suffocating feeling that she was disappearing right before her own eyes.

She had tried to hold on. She had tried to convince herself that love was enough, that the two of them could overcome their differences, that Rafe was just lost in his own world and would come back to her. But she couldn’t keep pretending anymore. She couldn’t keep chasing someone who had already pulled away.

By the time she reached the pier, her tears had already started to fall. She stood at the edge, staring out at the endless ocean, the weight of everything crashing down on her. The sound of the waves, the cold air against her skin, it was all so empty, just like the space Rafe had left in her life.

“Did I ever mean anything to you?” she whispered to the wind, her voice breaking. “Or was I just another girl to use and forget?”

There was no answer. Just the sound of the ocean, endless and indifferent.

And in that moment, Y/N realized something that cut deeper than any of the lies, any of the broken promises. She had never been the one to fade away. It was always him, always his indifference, his neglect, his coldness.

And now, it was too late to fix it.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[batbux]

"Sometimes I forget they're gone."

Bruce looks up from work - a crossword he's doing to pass time until the gas chromatography finishes - and over to where Tim is rolling back and forth in front of a secondary terminal. The steady squeak of his chairs back wheel was almost meditative in a way. He stared up at a blank screen, face only illuminated in profile by the gentle glow of Bruce's own terminal.

"Who is?" Bruce asked when Tim didn't elaborate. For all that this was functionally his home now, the boy had a tendency to occupy space in a way that made Bruce's jaw ache from biting his tongue.

"My parents." Tim stopped rocking and the Cave was as silent as a grave between them. One grave in particular. "Like, something happens and I think, oh, Mom would love to hear about this. Or Dad would get all huffy and rant over something silly and it would be fun to listen to."

Tim, who loved his parents and, arguably was loved in return. He spent most of his time in his room or the Cave, exploring other rooms in the Manor like his parents did archeological sites. Interesting to him, but not a place to be.

"Sometimes I pick up the phone and get as far as putting in their international number, you know?"

Tim, who was parented through phone calls and post cards. Tim, who spent so much of his life in boarding schools that an actual home looked more like a museum than a place to live.

"I'm sorry, bud," Bruce murmured. There wasn't much else he could say, aside from reminding Tim that his father was still alive. Comatose, hanging in limbo, but alive.

Bruce thought it would be easier if Jack Drake died with his wife. Bruce also hated himself for thinking those kinds of things.

"I just keep thinking about Mohenjo-daro," he continued. "We're learning about it in school this unit and I keep remembering- I keep remembering that Dad said he's been there. I can't keep the dates right in my head and he would have helped."

"I can give it a shot," Bruce offered even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do now just as it had been the wrong thing to do when he offered to find a Romani language tutor for Dick when he realized he was forgetting things.

It would solve one part of the problem, but it would never replace the help a father could give.

Tim turned towards him, pale face washed out in stark relief under the light from behind Bruce. He wondered if Tim could even see his face in the relative darkness and found a cowards courage knowing he couldn't.

"He told me a story about it once," Tim said. "I can't remember the ending. I can't remember what he told me. Why didn't I listen better?"

Bruce had no answer for him. He set his paper aside and opened his arms.

Dick would have thrown himself at Bruce, taking comfort where and when he could. Jason would have slunk over and did his level best to press close enough to cave in Bruce's chest and make himself a home.

He was, in hindsight, too good at that.

Tim always hesitated. Weighting the pros and cons? Overthinking a simple comfort offered freely? Bruce never knew.

Still, Tim slowly abandoned his squeaking chair. He let Bruce tug him in for a hug.

Tim was older than Dick had been, around the same age as Jason. Even so, in moments like this he seemed immeasurably younger. Tim, cast off in a prestigious boarding school, had lived comparatively untouched by life's hardest lessons. He signed up for the work, but he couldn't have known how hard it would be. Bruce never should have let him in, but what could he do now? Tim came to him when he needed a partner the most and he was so, so grateful even as regret threatened to choke him.

A beep, then. Bruce's eyes drifted upwards.

"The drugs we lifted from the Iceberg Lounge?" Tim asked against Bruce's neck.

"Yes."

"Show me."

Bruce let Tim out from the protective circle of his arms and did so. The moment lay broken behind them, like so many others.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Negligence.

Pairing: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation of Nursle.

Word Count: 9.0k.

TW: Dub/Con - Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Kidnapping, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Lactation, Geto and Gojo Have Their Own Thing Going On That Is Entirely Separate From The Events of This Fic, and Age Gaps. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One] [Part Two]

Suguru wouldn’t let you hold Himari.

You’d offered to as he led you out of Suguru’s apartment, reached for her instinctively as he gently urged you into the passenger seat of a familiar black car, but Suguru was in a fugue state – eyes glassy, voice softened and tempered, a glazed smile painted over his lips. He kept Himari pressed against his shoulder, and then, when she started to stir, in his lap, bouncing idly on his knee as he drove. It was dangerous – for Himari and for you. You were tempted to tell him that, to insist on holding the daughter that wasn’t supposed to belong to him, but then you remembered that he was a cult leader and a kidnapper and a murderer and you kept your mouth shut.

Instead, you kept your hands tucked between your thighs and your eyes focused on the passing landscape, on Tokyo as it dwindled from skyscrapers to rustic storefronts to backwoods. You thought of Megumi, first, surprisingly. Even if he didn’t spend the night with Satoru, he’d notice if you weren’t in class, tomorrow. He’d be worried.

You wondered if Nanako and Mimiko had been worried when they suddenly couldn’t find you in Suguru’s bedroom, where you’d spent the days following Himari’s birth recovering, when you stopped appearing at Suguru’s temple with a folder of worksheets and enough candy to keep two girls under ten engaged for a full ninety minutes. You wondered how Suguru explained your absence, if he bothered to explain it at all. You wondered how long they’d hold it against you.

It was getting dark by the time you left the city entirely. With the setting sun to your backs, Suguru slipped onto a deserted seaside road and, still in that gentle tone, broke the silence. “Was it different?” And then, as Himari sniffled, “With him, I mean. Different than it was for us.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking, another to recognize that you were supposed to answer. It was less that you were lost in thought and more that you were lost in the absence of it – your mind a vague, cloudy haze of static and fog and every other grey, disembodied, terrible thing that could seep its way into your consciousness and leave you entirely blank, entirely numb. It was all you could do to remember how to open your mouth, let alone piece an intelligent response together. “With Satoru?”

“Satoru,” Suguru repeated, almost disdainfully. “It took you months to call by my given name.”

You couldn’t deny that, although part of you was tempted to try. Because it was true. Because it had.

Because it was different – or, it had been, at least. Things had moved so quickly, with Satoru. He’d gone from a stranger to a stalker to something not totally unlike a partner in a handful of hours, and you’d watched it all from a distance, never fully able to shake that strange sense of liminality. He was rich, and stable, and he’d never suggested that you quit your job or attempted to lock you up in his mansion of an apartment, as trapped as you’d felt. He’d raped you, but you couldn’t say you believed Suguru wouldn’t have, had you not been so terrified of what would happen if you ever tried to remove any part of yourself from his control. You knew, rationally, that they had to be around the same age, that Satoru shared every quirk and every immaturity that’d once made you disgusted to so much consider Suguru in a romantic light, but it was different. When you first met Satoru, you’d seen him as a parent, a provider, a man who wanted to raise your daughter (albeit, with or without your consent). When you first met Suguru, you’d seen him as a boy who fell asleep in temple gardens and pretended not to be as scared as he really was, and if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you’d never really been able to stop seeing him that way.  

Suguru clicked his tongue. He still wanted an answer, but it was all you could do to shrug, to let your gaze drift back to the passing landscape. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to marry him either, if he’d asked me to.”

You heard Suguru shift, the engine rev. He started to say something, but a shrill, ear-piercing, howl of a cry cut him off. You didn’t need to check to know it was Himari, and to know why.

“She’s hungry.” You spoke without thinking, snapping toward your daughter. You’d been on your way to feed her when you found Suguru next to her cradle, meaning she was already more than an hour past due. Himari didn’t cry often, but when she did, it was usually for a good reason. Yet another trait that must’ve come from Suguru – had she taken more closely after you, she might not have done anything but cry.

Something crossed across Suguru’s expression; a flash of irritation, a spark of anger, but nothing more violent, nothing lasting. He cooled back into stoic neutrality as one of his hands fell away from the wheel and to the back of your daughter’s onesie – lifting her out of her lap and depositing her unceremoniously in your arms, his eyes never leaving the road. “Can you take care of it?”

It. You had to dig your teeth into the side of your tongue just to stop from saying something you’d regret, from telling him not to talk about your daughter like some unfeeling, inanimate object, not to talk about her at all. You were in a car with a murderer, and you couldn’t forget that just because of some misplaced, motherly paranoia.

Instead, you looked around for a jacket, a blanket, something to cover yourself with, and when you found the car utterly and entirely barren, you settled for turning away from him and struggling the sleeve of your dress off of your shoulder. You went through the motions mechanically, automatically – cooing and running your fingers through Himari’s soft hair as she latched on, little hands grasping the scrunched fabric of your dress as she practically fed herself. You preferred formula, especially with Satoru breathing down your neck, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

A minute passed in relative silence, Himari’s crying slowly fading back into her usual incoherent, but relatively cheerful babbling. Eventually, her little eyes fluttered shut, and you pulled her away, holding her against your shoulder as she fell asleep. When she’d gone quiet, Suguru glanced toward you out of the corner of his eye. You saw him stiffen, straighten, then felt the car veer off the road and come to an abrupt, jeering stop.

You held Himari that much closer as Suguru let himself out. He took his time – his fingertips brushing over the hood as he made his way to your side of the vehicle, opening your door and nodding to the side. “You can leave her on the seat. I promise, I’ll try to be fast.”

You clung to Himari, who shifted restlessly against you. “You really can’t leave newborns unattended, she might—”

“I’ll be fast.” That smile was back in full force, albeit cast in shadow by the quickly dimming light. “I’ve missed you.”

You didn’t want to, but he was using that tone, again – the one that meant he was already running out of patience. Leaving Himari tucked against the backrest, you let Suguru take your hand and pull you out of your seat. No sooner were you on your feet than the door was slammed shut behind you, then Suguru’s hands were on your waist, pinning you against the side of the car. The heat of the dark metal sapped into your back, your shoulders as Suguru’s mouth found its way to the side of your neck, the crook. “I’ve missed you,” he repeated, his voice airy, edging on desperation. “I thought something happened to you. You were gone, and I couldn’t find her, and I thought someone must’ve taken you, or—”

His voice cut out. He didn’t draw back, but one of his hands fell away from your waist, reappearing on the neckline of your dress. His movements were hasty, rushed, like he couldn’t tear the fabric off of your shoulders and down your chest quickly enough. You weren’t wearing a bra, but even if you had been, you doubt it would’ve been much more of a barrier. A chilled sea breeze washed over your exposed chest as Suguru’s mouth fell from your throat to your collarbone, and then to the curve of your breast, lingering. “Wanted to do this since you got pregnant,” he muttered, as something heavy and spiked dropped from your diaphragm to the pit of your stomach. “Held off for the baby, but she’s had more than enough time with you.”

For a brief moment, every intelligent part of your mind seemed to slow, stall, then stop altogether. You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, but unfortunately, you weren’t given the chance to be so painfully oblivious.

Suguru’s lips latched onto your left nipple, and anything you might’ve said was replaced with a hitched whimper.

He was rougher than he really had to be, than his daughter had ever been. The only thing you could think to compare him to, deservedly, was Satoru; just as forceful, just as loud, just as sickeningly eager. The only difference was his tempo. Satoru had always been too giddy not to rush, eager to steal a kiss before you left for work or wake you up with a hand lodged between your thighs, but Suguru seemed content to act as if he had all the time in the world, as if you were somewhere more private than the shoulder of a public road. The flat of his tongue lulled over your nipple as he drank, his free hand coming up to paw at your other breast in almost meditative patterns. You tried to shut your eyes, to block out the wet sounds of his lips working against your skin, but as routine as it was supposed to be, there was little you could do not to hear an occasional, satisfied grunt, not to feel a certain amount of relief as the pressure you’d learned to ignore began to dissipate. His teeth grazed against your skin, and reflexively, your hand found the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. Rather than pull away, Suguru seemed to purr – the noise deep and throaty, reverberating against you as he leaned that much closer, as he shifted and you felt something stiff press into your thigh. Don’t think about it, you forced yourself to chant in the back of your mind, trying to remember all the age-old coping mechanisms you’d used when you were with him, all the coping mechanisms you’d forgotten after realizing that they wouldn’t work on someone as unpredictable as Satoru. You couldn’t think about it. You couldn’t put a name to it. You couldn’t acknowledge that sucking on chest was in any way connected to the hard, pulsing cock pressing into your—

But you didn’t have a choice. Suguru gasped, his breath hitching, and then he was drawing away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone as a hand fell to the waistband of his jeans, freeing his cock – already stiff, already leaking into his palm. “I missed you.” You’d lost track of how many times he’d repeated the same meaningless phrase, but this time, his voice shook, misery seeping out from each fractured syllable. You might’ve felt more pity, but any sympathy you might’ve been able to feel for him was quickly drowned out by the material of your skirt being gathered in handfuls at your waist, his cock finding its way between your plush thighs. His larger body kept yours in place as he rutted against you, his open mouth leaking drool and milk and all the other ungodly things you could imagine onto your chest. It was embarrassing, really – just how tightly you kept your eyes shut, like a child walking through their first haunted house. Like all the bad things in the world would go away just because you couldn’t see them. “For weeks, I couldn’t—I didn’t know where you were, I thought—”

His form jolted against yours. You felt it – a sudden, liquid heat against your thighs, a sudden tension where Suguru’s chest pressed into yours – at the same time you felt the first tear fall, searing your skin where it made contact. There was another, then yet another, before you finally realized what was happening.

Suguru was crying.

Huh.

He’d never done that, before.

Finally, you forced yourself to open your eyes. Rather than attempting to look at Suguru, to see if his shoulders were shaking as violently as it felt like they were, your gaze moved outward, first to the bay, then to the sky – as black as spilled ink, now that the last traces of light had faded. As black as Suguru’s eyes.

You carded your fingers through his hair as he cried silently into your shoulder, never making a sound. Minutes passed before he spoke again, but you let him be the one to break the silence. “I don’t get it.” You hummed, and he went on. “I don’t understand why you didn’t try to leave him, too.”

“I might’ve, eventually. If I’d had more time.”

“But you didn’t.” His blunt nails bit into your waist with enough force to sting, but you didn’t say anything. “I don’t understand why you didn’t.”

You didn’t try to answer.

~

Suguru stopped at a gas station to clean himself up. You stayed in the car, clutching Himari to your chest, attempting not to flinch as her tiny hands pulled at your hair and grabbed at your skirt – searching for something to do, to entertain herself with. The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. Suguru didn’t try to make conversation, and even if you’d wanted to, you wouldn’t know where to start.

Finally, Suguru turned down an unpaved backroad, and far too soon, you were in front of a house you recognized. The architecture was traditional, the design compact, but you could remember Suguru saying that he and the girls didn’t need much. Later on, when he decided you shouldn’t be allowed to wander any farther than his line of sight during your pregnancy, he’d played with the idea of a larger property – something that could accommodate a growing family. If he’d ever had any real plans, they must’ve been abandoned after you left.

“We’re only stopping by,” Suguru explained, as he moved to step out. You didn’t wait for him this time – shouldering the door open and pulling yourself to your feet before he could decide he needed to drag you out of the car himself. “There’s a nursery attached to the master bedroom. The girls can look after Himari while we’re gone.”

Your breathing hitched, then stopped altogether.

The girls.

You’d managed to forget you’d have to see them, tonight. Suguru would’ve been enough to handle on his own.

You tried to take a step back, more out of reflex than anything, but your legs were unsteady, unreliable. You stumbled, but before you could so much as start to fall, Suguru was by your side, one hand on your arm and the other underneath Himari. He started to say something, but you were faster, louder. “I—I can’t. They’ll be so—I knew you wouldn’t hurt them, but I shouldn’t have—”

“They’ll be just fine.” He wasn’t crying, anymore. Instead, he took on the inflection, the stature he’d worn when you first met him – when he’d been the level-headed priest and you’d been a distraught non-believe desperate for help. If you hadn’t known better, if you couldn’t still see the reddened skin around his eyes, you might’ve called his composure sadistic. “And they’ve been waiting for you all night. Wouldn’t it be cruel to disappoint them now?”

It'd be crueler to make them face the woman who’d married their father and abandoned them without a second thought, but you doubted Suguru would agree. He was already curling his arm around yours, already guiding you towards the rustic villa. Whatever daze was keeping you from losing your mind entirely must’ve worn-off sometime during the drive. It was all you could do to keep yourself on your feet as you edged closer, closer to the front door. You were walking down the unpaved driveway, then standing on the wooden porch, and then, Suguru was ushering you inside – taking Himari out of your arms as you passed over the threshold. You didn’t try to resist. He wouldn’t ask the girls to hurt her, not after how long he’d spent holding the idea of a new, adorably helpless little sister over their heads, and wherever he was going to do to you after this, you didn’t want Himari involved. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use her against you.

Suguru moved further into the villa, but you froze in the entryway. You could already hear the little, rushing footsteps, already picture the betrayal in their eyes, the questions they’d ask you and the answers you wouldn’t be able to give them. They’d hate you. They had to already hate you. You abandoned them, and they would know you abandoned them, and they would—

Two arms wrapping around your legs, the force of a smaller body crashing into yours. You glanced down and found Mimiko, clinging to your waist, her face buried in the material of your skirt. She wasn’t crying, but you could see her shoulders shaking, feel her nails digging into your thigh through the thin fabric. Reflexively, you reached down, resting a hand on top of her head and moving to nudge her away gently, to see if she needed help, but she only clung to you that much tighter.

Nanako was there, too, but she hadn’t latched onto you. Unlike her sister, she kept her distance, hands ringing the hem of her sweater as she stared pointedly at the floor. “Geto-sama told us what happened,” she explained, while Mimiko mumbled something incoherent and affirmative into your skirt. “He said that sorcerer – the white-haired one – took you and Himari away.” There was a pause, a quick glance in your direction. “He promised he wouldn’t let it happen again.”

Her eyes met yours, and suddenly, her nervous posture, the measured distance left between you and her – it made sense. You recognize the light in her eyes, or rather, the lack therefore.

It was the same shadow her father’s eyes took on, when he looked at you.

Whatever lie he’d told them, Nanako clearly didn’t believe it. Mimiko – sweet and loyal and prone to holding onto the things she loved like there was someone could come and take them away at any time – would’ve believed Suguru if he told her that world ended every time she closed her eyes, but Nanako was more pragmatic. She knew something was wrong. You doubted she would speak to you at all if she knew just how wrong, but still.

Swallowing your guilt, you lowered yourself to one knee and hugged Mimiko properly, squeezing her for one beat, then another, before letting her go entirely. Nanako was next. For all her reservations, she was running towards you as soon as you opened your arms to her, crashing into your chest and clinging to you twice as tightly as her sister had. “I’m sure he won’t,” you mumbled into her hair. And then, pulling back, “I know I was gone for a while, but it’s alright. The sorcerer Geto-sama told you about – he just wanted a little advice. He had two children he was raising all on his own, just like Geto. He heard all about how wonderful you two are, and wanted to know if I could stay and show him how to bring up the best kids in the world.” A kiss on either forehead, a thumb drawn over Mimiko’s cheeks to wipe away the tears she was frantically (and unsuccessfully) attempting to paw away on her own. “But, although I was very flattered, I told him that I had to go home. I knew you two would be fine, of course, but let’s face it – Geto wouldn’t last a day without me.”

It was your turn to pause, now, to lower your voice into something secretive. Mimiko was still sniffling, still determined to keep her face buried in her hands or your shoulder, but you made sure to meet Nanako’s eyes, to sound as sincere as you could – even if complete honesty was beyond you, at the moment. “Don’t tell Geto, but I missed you two most of all.”

Nanako looked like she wanted to say something. She almost did, too – tensing, opening her mouth, but she shut it again just as quickly, her eyes falling back to the ground in a sharp, violently narrow glare.

The pain was instant and beyond words. You wanted to pull her and Mimiko close again, to squeeze them tight and promise you wouldn’t leave them, not again, to apologize when you’d inevitably have to for the sake of a sister you hadn’t given them time to love. You wanted to—

You heard Suguru’s footsteps, felt his hand on your shoulder, and every thought you might’ve had that wasn’t devoted to your daughter’s well-being was gone.

Rather than embracing the girls, you drew back from them. Suguru pulled you gently to your feet, his hand falling from your shoulder to your elbow before wrapping around your wrist. “Keep an eye on your sister.” You could only be thankful there was still an ounce of warmth in his voice, as he addressed the girls. “(Y/n) and I have one more errand to run. We’re trusting you two to look after her, until we come back.”

You might’ve added something, made sure they both knew that you really had missed them, but Suguru was already drawing you towards the door – still ajar. The last thing you saw was Nanako taking Mimiko by the wrist before the door was slammed shut, and you were left entirely alone with Suguru.

~

Of all the places you expected him to take you, his temple hadn’t made the list.

His followers must’ve been sent away for the night, and the property’s attendants either dismissed or told to stay in their dorms. Every window was dark and shuttered, the gates locked and the doors bared. As you followed Suguru across the desolate courtyard and into the main shrine, you tried to think of places you would’ve wanted to be taken to, but came up empty. Part of you had been expecting the cheap, equally lifeless chain motels he’d shown a fondness for during your pregnancy, or worse, the hotel where you’d spent your first night together. Another, larger, quieter part had been able to imagine him driving into the deepest, darkest forest he could find and having his monstrous spirits tear you to shreds before you could so much as scream.

His ultimate destination was far from shocking, and yet, you still felt your heart drop into your stomach as he led you into his darkened sanctuary. As if in preparation, two tapered candles had been left burning in metal trays on either side of the screen door, and Suguru took one up as he passed by. You were left to linger in the doorway as, with a surprising meticulousness, he lit the candles scattered throughout the sanctuary, casting the open space in an ebbing golden glow. When he was finished, he collapsed onto his raised dais – perched on its edge, rather than laid across it. He almost looked out of place, without his usual costume, his usual posture. He almost looked his age.

You didn’t move. Running seemed impossible, but so did breaking the silence, doing anything to make yourself an active participant in Suguru’s bizarre ritual rather than a passive observer, a prop to be moved from place to place with little thought as to where you might want to be. A moment passed in silence, then another. Finally, he cracked. “Sit down.”

You didn’t move. “Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t react. “All I asked you to do was sit down, love.”

“Are you going to kill Himari?”

He flinched into himself, going crooked. Something like hurt passed across his expression, as genuine as it was hypocritical.

He didn’t respond, but either out of pity or remorse or a lack of anything else to do, you found yourself closing the gap between you and him, setting yourself down on the edge of his platform. Immediately, his head fell onto your shoulder, his hand to your thigh, as if he was afraid you’d leave him again if he didn’t cling to you. “…I thought about breaking your legs,” he confessed, without prompting. “I was angry, when I realized you hadn’t been taken by force. I thought I’d be able to do it in Satoru’s apartment, leave enough blood to make him think I’d killed you, but—” There was a pause, a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know. I guess I waited too long, lost the nerve or something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” And then, when he shifted curiously beside you, “It would’ve scared the girls. They’re already having such a hard time.”

At that, Suguru melted entirely against you. There was an airy laugh, a small sigh, and you felt his hand on your hip, his thumb drawing loose patterns into your side. “So considerate,” he muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “Maybe, one day, you’ll care about me like that, too.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him – or, that you hadn’t, before he made it clear that the ways you were capable of caring for him weren’t enough. If you hadn’t felt anything for him, none of this would’ve ever happened. If he’d been satisfied to let you feel the same way about him that you felt about his daughters, it would never have gotten this bad. If you’d just laid back and let him fuck you the first time he’d asked, he would’ve lost interest in you months ago. You almost said so, too, tensed and opened your mouth and everything, but Suguru was moving before you had the chance to spit something out, his mouth crashing into yours with all the care and all the tenderness of a blunt object shattering bone. His teeth cut into your bottom lip, his body pressing into yours with enough force to throw you off balance, but his arms were already around your waist, keeping you upright. It was less that he slid off of the dais and more that he collapsed – dropping onto his knees at your feet, as little difference as it made in terms of height. He never let you stray very far, but tonight, he seemed determined never to leave more than a hair’s width of space between your body and his. His lips fell from your mouth to your neck, his hands finding their way to your hips. One darted for your neckline, but dropped back to your waist just as suddenly – all ten fingers soon burrowed into the plush of your waist.

“Your dress.” He wasn’t panting, wasn’t grinning, wasn’t laughing. His voice reverberated dully against the base of your throat, his pointed canines scraping over your skin as he spoke. “Take it off.”

You swallowed. Normally, he preferred to undress and re-dress you himself. You’d been scolded more than once for thinking you had any right to decide what you wore without his loving input, and when pressed, he claimed it was a show of love; proof of his dedication, his devotion.

This wasn’t about love, though, or dedication, or any other flowery word he’d ever used with you.

This was about control.

Your hands shook as you raised them to the back of your dress, finding the row of corset-type strings keeping the loose material in place. You fumbled with the knot for seconds, but Suguru was patient, willing to wait until the bodice fell away from your chest entirely, pooling at your midriff. You weren’t wearing a bra (again, an extremely difficult habit not to get into with a newborn at home), and one of Suguru’s hands came up, a scarred palm cupping your breast with enough force to bruise. You remembered, dimly, the time he’d spent pulled over by the side of the road earlier that day, but the memory was foggy, already so far away. You wouldn’t have been surprised if all of this seemed like one hazy, distant dream by tomorrow morning.

He detached from you suddenly, pulling away and kneeling on the sanctuary floor. Rather than relief, you only felt the world distort more violently around you; your pulse slowing and your vision burning as you clumsily pushed yourself to your feet, allowing your dress to fall away entirely. You moved to sit back down, but Suguru caught you before you could – his fist wrapping around your ankle, then skirting upward, settling gingerly against your thigh as his dark, soulless eyes raked over you. His stare caught on your panties, and his expression darkened. “I’m going to kill him.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. The pair had been Satoru’s pick; not quite a gift, but something given to you, regardless. They matched his aesthetics – needlessly detailed, smothered in lace, cast a shade of light blue so pale, it bordered on ivory. With how expensive Satoru’s tastes tended to run, you were sure the set had cost a fortune, but the priceless fabric gave away without protest as Suguru slipped two fingers under the waistband and tore. The ruined article fell away before you could so much as process that he’d moved.

Suguru’s impressive patience waned quickly. In the same motion, he pushed himself to his feet and took you into his arms, carrying you against his chest onto the dais, then to the altar pressed against the far wall. The scrolls laid across it were sent to floor with a single movement of his arm, and in the blink of an eye, you were laid across the polished wood, Suguru on his knees between your open legs. Your mouth opened, but there was no time to protest, to call out before his face was buried between his thighs, tongue lapping over the length of your slit. Still, you grit your teeth, bracing yourself to sit up, to tell him to—

Oh.

He'd gotten his tongue pierced, sometime after you left.

He was shameless. A rounded, jeweled stud dragged over your pussy, circling your clit with no pattern or pace, no intention other than to taste you. Never content to leave you to your own devices, he kept his hands wrapped around your hips, pinning you to the surface of the altar as he tried to all-but swallow you whole. It was messy, and overzealous, and worst of all, it was good. It was a matter of seconds before a mixture of spit and arousal stained the inside of your thighs and dripped from his chin, less than a full minute before you had to concentrate just to keep yourself from squirming underneath him. Not that it would’ve mattered, if you had. Suguru had always been playful in bed, content to milk reactions out of you with measured precision and careful vigilance, but that had been when you at least attempted to present yourself as willing. Right now, anything you might’ve felt seemed secondary to Suguru’s pleasure; satisfied groans soon joining the slick, wet noise ricocheting off the walls of his sanctuary. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, crossed your arms over your face, but neither distraction helped to stifle the feeling of his lips latching onto your clit, suckling on it with all the care and all the delicacy of a butcher’s knife cutting into lifeless flesh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes by the time he pulled away, but the pressure was immediately replaced by the bridge of his nose grinding harshly against the bundle of nerves, his tongue slipping past your entrance to curl against the most vulnerable parts of your cunt.

He let out another reverberating moan, and reflexively, your hand shot to the back of his head, your fingers soon tangled in his dark hair. One of his hands fell from your waist, and for a moment, you thought he was moving to pry away yours, that he didn’t want you touching him. But, fortunately or otherwise, his attention wasn’t on you. Instead, he reached for the elastic band holding his hair in place, pulling it out with enough force to snap the cheap plastic. You didn’t realize what he was trying to do until you felt him lean into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted into the semblance of your touch.

If you’d been capable of feeling anything more towards Suguru than you already did, you might’ve found the sight pitiful.

At the moment, though, you weren’t in a place to be quite so sentimental. It was all you could do to knot his hair around your fingers as you felt tight and hot form in your core, as your thighs threatened to snap shut around his head. You bit into the inside of your check with enough force to draw blood as Suguru moaned shamelessly, as he dragged you that much closer. It was too easy to forget to care whether or not he’d enjoyed it, too reflexive to gather his hair in your first and pull, to buck involuntarily into his mouth, to—

Suguru drew back suddenly, pushing himself to his feet. Thankfully, you caught yourself before you could feel disappointment, and after a few shallow breaths, found the strength to follow his stare away from you and towards the sanctuary door. Instantly, your heart stopped beating, the blood running cold in your veins.

Satoru stood in the doorway, cast in shadow save for his bright, piercing eyes. One of his hands was still wrapped around the doorframe, while the other hung limp at his side, cupping a small, pulsing ball of… light?

You didn’t have time to think about it. Suguru acted swiftly – pulling you into his arms and onto his lap, seating himself on the altar where you’d previously laid. “Drop it,” he said, his tone cold, cutting, not unlike an owner talking to his disobedient pet. He’d been short with you all night, but you couldn’t say he’d ever spoken to you quite like that. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

The light dimmed before disappearing entirely, but Satoru didn’t move. He didn’t do anything, but you could feel it – a drop in the sanctuary’s temperature, a change in the air pressure, something deep and intrinsic that you didn’t want to be a part of. Reflexively, you tried to stand, to move, but Suguru held you tight, an arm barred over your midriff.

Despite everything, Satoru was the first to break the silence, albeit without doing anything to make that intangible tension any more bearable. “I should kill you.”

“You should.” Suguru’s fingertips dug into your side. “Those are your orders, aren’t they? Or are you going to put off delivering my head to the higher-ups for another three years?”

Whatever he was talking about, Satoru didn’t seem interested in acknowledging it. “You took my girls.”

“You fucked my wife.”

At that, something seemed to break. Suguru’s chest pressed into your back as Satoru’s eyes shut, as he sucked in a harsh breath and broke out into a fanged grin, the sharpest you’d ever seen him wear. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He took a step forward, all hostility gone in favor of a sort of manic, unpredictable buzz. You didn’t know whether to be relieved that there was a slightly diminished chance you’d be caught in the middle of their fight to the death or terrified at the thought that they might want to do anything but tear out each others’ throats. “I fucked her after she left you. Bet you can’t stand it – knowing you’re not the only one who gets to run away.”

Suguru, for all his faults, didn’t flinch. He’d always had an even-temper at the worst of time. “What do you want, ‘toru?”

Satoru’s stare fell away from Suguru and onto you. His expression softened, taking on an almost apologetic lilt. Almost, but not quite.

“Not much,” he admitted, with a shrug. Even from a distance, even in the dark, you could tell his nonchalance was forced. “Just to say goodbye, make sure my pretty girl’s gonna be taken care of. Gotta wrap up loose ends, n’ all that.”

Suguru, for his part, seemed far from convinced. His grip didn’t loosen; if anything, he only held you closer. “And why should I let you?”

“Because I love her?” And then, with another step toward the altar, “Because you know I could wipe this building off the face of the planet, if I wanted to.”  

Pragmatic as he was, Suguru seemed to consider it. The hand over your side flexed, a chin settling against the dip of your shoulder, and beneath you, his stiff cock pressed into your ass – either unaffected or worse, fueled on by Satoru’s interruption. You were still attempting not to dwell on the implications when Suguru responded, level-headed as always.

“If you try anything, I’ll kill the baby.”

The second before a car crash, the spark where two wires failed to connect. For the longest time, you couldn’t seem to process what he’d said or how it could’ve been so gut-wrenchingly terrible. Rather than pull away, you flattened yourself against him, glancing over your shoulder. You opened your mouth, but the ability to speak was suddenly beyond you, set deliberately out of your reach. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, and yet, his expression was stoic, unchanging, the pinnacle of neutrality. There was no laugh from Satoru either, forced or otherwise. Still, he kept up his smile. As if Suguru hadn’t said anything of consequence. As if either of them had any right to so much as touch your daughter.

Satoru didn’t respond to the threat, nor did Suguru urge him to. Almost mechanically, Suguru’s arm fell away from your midriff, and with little more than a nudge to the back of your shoulder, you were on your feet, vulnerable and shaking on the center of the raised dais. You could still feel a mix of slick and saliva coating the inside of your thighs, and you had to swallow the urge to make a grab for your clothes, to put yourself through the humiliation of being forced to strip twice in one night.

 Thankfully, tragically, you were liberated from any illusion of free choice swiftly. Without protest from Suguru, Satoru stepped onto the dais and took you by the hand, either overlooking or failing to acknowledge the panic in your eyes in favor of intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing gently, as if you could still believe he genuinely wanted to comfort you. Rather than pulling you into his arms, dragging you down to the floor, he looked to Suguru, cocking his head to the side. “Get up.”

Suguru’s lips quirked downward, but he obeyed, pushing himself to his feet. “How blasphemous.”

Now, he pulled you off of your feet. In a moment, you were in his arms, and the next, you were perched on the altar, your back pressed against the wall and your legs spread around Satoru’s waist. “Blasphemous,” Satoru echoed, his voice low but plainly audible in the silence of the sanctuary. “would be fucking the most beautiful woman in the world on the ground. That’s why I’m her favorite – ‘cause I’m so considerate.”

No part of you trusted Suguru. No part of you preferred Suguru to Satoru, or the other way around. No part of you thought that, unless your life or his pride was threatened, he’d ever lift a finger to help you, but you found yourself glancing toward him out of the corner of your eye, doing your best to silently communicate that you needed to get out of here. Instead of sympathy, jealousy, you only found an idle smirk, a glassy sheen over his eyes that you could only imagine you’d mirrored for most of the day. “You’re not the one she’s married to, idiot.”

There was a dip, a surprisingly fleeting kiss to your lips, then your jaw, then your throat. “But she would get with me if you were out of the picture, right?” The question was punctuated with a nip to your collarbone, a hand dropped low enough to cup your pussy. The heel of his palm ground into your clit as two fingers pushed into your soaked cunt, spreading apart and scissoring you open. You tried to bow your head, to keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut, but you were still sensitive from your ruined climax, still so painfully exposed, and there was nothing you could do to bite back the cracked whines and pitiful mewls that slipped through your pursed lips. It was far from verbal confirmation, but Satoru hummed, grinned against your chest as if you’d sung his praises. “I’d get you a nicer ring, nicer house, nicer honeymoon. Always make sure you’re good n’ taken care of while Suguru’s busy playing god.”

Suguru huffed, and Satoru fell into a steady pace, adding a third digit as he carelessly fucked his fingers into your cunt. You didn’t hear him move, but before you could brace yourself, Suguru was at your side, leaning onto the altar to cup your face and trace over your jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I take care of you, don’t I?” You opened your mouth reflexively, ready to tell him that you were sorry, that you didn’t want him to touch you, that you wanted this to stop, but he was faster than you, more malicious. His thumb was forced past your lips before you could make a sound, pressed against the flat of your tongue with just enough force for your jaw to ache in protest. “I can’t blame Satoru for not being able to see that, though. Not when you treat me so cruelly.”

Cruelly. You’d never been cruel – at least, no crueler than you absolutely needed to be to survive. You felt pins and needles prick at the corners of your eyes before you noticed your vision blurring, before tears were streaming down either side of your face in boiling tracks. Satoru purred in sympathy, falling low and nuzzling into the tender spot at the base of your throat, flicking his wrist and burying himself inside of you to the knuckle. “You don’t have to worry, I know he’s the mean one.”

He was whispering, but that didn’t matter. He was too close, too awful for each word not to be absolutely deafening, for each little movement of his hand not to leave your nails scraping against the smooth wood of the altar, searching for purchase you wouldn’t find. Time was moving too quickly, it had been since you arrived at the temple. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t pull away, couldn’t breathe before Satoru pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck and you were coming undone around his fingers, your thighs locking around his arm and keeping his digits inside of you until you could remember how to suck in a gasping inhale, until the last of the aftershocks faded and you could bring yourself to open your eyes. It wasn’t until the warmth of Satoru’s mouth fell away from your neck that you noticed the strange, copper tinge spread over your tongue, that you registered the absence of Suguru’s hand against your jaw. When you thought to look in his direction, he was evaluating his own hand. A thin, red line formed a dotted ring around the base of his thumb. You must’ve bitten down, at some point.

You must’ve hurt him.

Fear drowned out any satisfaction there might’ve been. He mentioned deciding against breaking your legs, earlier; was there any chance he’d change his mind? Would Satoru be able to stop him, if he tried to hurt you? Would Satoru even want to stop him? Himari was still alone, still in danger, and you wouldn’t be able to get to her if you couldn’t walk. You wouldn’t be able to stop Suguru from—

Satoru reached out, his hand curling around Suguru’s wrist and dragging it down to his height. With Satoru’s guidance, Suguru’s thumb came to rest against his bottom lip, then slipped into Satoru’s mouth entirely, his lips soon sealed around its base. There was a second or two of stillness, a swallowing-type noise too loud to ignore despite your best attempts not to hear it, and then, Suguru was pulling away and Satoru’s lips were crashing into yours.

It was strange for Suguru to be so clumsy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as surprised by Satoru’s lack of polish. It was all you could do to choke back a renewed sob as his mouth moved against yours, as his pointed teeth ghosted over your lips and grazed the underside of your tongue. He was all instinct, no logic, and when you tried to straighten, to leave enough room between you and him to catch your breath, he only seemed to want you closer. His hands were on your waist, then your arms, then your chest, never satisfied unless he could dig his claws into the most tender parts of you, and this time, when his canines grazed over your lips, he wasn’t satisfied to leave your connection at contact alone. He let out a shameless moan as he lapped at the puncture wound, warm blood leaking down your chin and pooling on your chest where it pressed into his. Again, you looked to Suguru for help, and again, you immediately wished you hadn’t bothered.

He wasn’t perched on the altar, anymore. No – he’d shifted, slinked, positioned himself behind Satoru where he was bent at the waist. He caught your eye as his arms snaked around Satoru’s midriff, as Satoru arched his back to better take advantage of the new contact. There was the distant, muffled sound of fabric rustling, a keening whine from Satoru, and then, Suguru’s hand was curled around Satoru’s stiff, leaking cock – pumping over the shaft while his dark eyes burned holes into yours. “Get it over with,” he muttered, the bitter sterility of his tone a sharp juxtaposition to the grin creeping across his expression. “Before I remember why I want you dead.”

Satoru didn’t have to be coaxed into compliance. No, he let himself be eased into place, let Suguru slot himself against his back as he carefully aligned Satoru’s flushed tip to your entrance. Even after he’d let go, his hands finding the edge of the altar on either side of you, Satoru failed to move on his own. You could feel him drifting from your lips to your throat, then lower – to the crook of your neck, a spot Suguru’d always favored. Vaguely, you were aware of his lips moving against your skin, of warm breath fanning over your chest and leaving frost wherever it’d touched. His voice was muffled by proximity, but whether or not you could hear him didn’t really matter. You would’ve recognized those three little words from a thousand miles away.

“I love you.”

If you’d been able to laugh, you would’ve.

At least Satoru didn’t expect you to say it back.

Suguru must’ve missed it – that, or he was beyond the point of caring. His teeth sunk into the nape of Satoru’s neck, and then, something hot and piercing was inside of you.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. A fractured moan tumbled past your lips as Satoru immediately fell into a brutal pace; all that teasing tenderness gone the moment your pussy was wrapped around his cock. Suguru didn’t pull away, but he didn’t help, either; straightening his back and gazing down at you with that same foggy, absent, pleased expression. It took you a moment to put a name to it; lovestruck, all glassy eyes and hollow smiles, any anger hidden behind a thick curtain of glazed-over satisfaction. He’d never looked away from you, but when you met his eyes, he seemed to soften even further, his shoulders dropping as he brought a hand to the small of Suguru’s back, spurring him on. “He’s always been this bad.”  Suguru let out a keening whine into your shoulder, and Suguru chuckled airily. “Like a dog in heat. You’d think be as desperate as one, too, but apparently, his standards are too high for him to do anything but act like a whore.”

You couldn’t take it – the way Satoru’s hips crashed into yours, how his pubic bone ground against your clit, the pure venom interlaced with Suguru’s velvet-soft tone. You knew that it was useless, childish, but you couldn’t swallow down the cracked sob that rose up from somewhere deep and unprotected in your chest, couldn’t hold back the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. Suguru’s smile widened, his sharpened teeth catching the dull candlelight, but Satoru was kind enough not to be so observant. His attention was dedicated entirely to fucking into you as quickly and as deeply as possible; his cock never less than half buried. You felt him twitch, and before you could hold yourself back, your hands were on his back, your nails embedded in pale skin and tearing upward every time he bottomed out and sent a new type of agony coursing through your system. “Stop, stop, I can’t—”

“You can.” Clipped, concise, dripping with stone-cold affection. You’d be surprised if you ever heard any warmth in Suguru’s voice again. “That is, unless you’d like to break two hearts on the same night.”

Your mouth was still open, but you couldn’t answer. Satoru groaned as he rutted into you, his pace growing that much more erratic, his hips grinding into yours. He pulled you into another deep, copper-tinged kiss as he pressed his body flush to yours, as you felt something thick and hot and soul-crushingly familiar flood into you. It might’ve been the sensitivity, or the overstimulation, or the herbal stench of incense left to burn for a minute too long finally taking its toll – it didn’t really matter, either way. No explanation could’ve dampened the feeling of your cunt clenching tight around him, could’ve prevented the utter desolation of cumming on Satoru’s cock.

It seemed to go on for the longest time – second after second of thoughtless, helpless pleasure, century after century of Satoru against you, edging on your climax with the occasional sharp movement from his hips, a hasty kiss pressed into the corner of your jaw. Finally, after a small eternity, the last of the aftershocks faded, unwanted bliss fading into a slow, pulsing ache settled deep into the deepest pit of your chest. You felt Satoru shift; not pulling away, but lifting himself up, bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he said, again, and then, more quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to say something, to call him a liar, to spit out every venomous and vitriolic and warranted thing you could ever say to either of them, but it was already too late. Something vital slid out of place, a poor signal finally losing connection entirely, and then, everything went dark.

~

Nine months later, you’d find yourself in Suguru’s temple again, albeit not his sanctuary. A brown-haired woman in a lab coat and several female attendants swarmed around you, pressing damp cloths to your forehead and constantly rearranging the thick quilts laid over your limp body. Dried tears formed defined tracks down your cheeks, and every part of you screamed for rest, for escape, for a quick and merciful death. It was all you could do to suck in a shuddering breath, to remind yourself that there were more important things in the world than your own well-being. Sleep could wait. This couldn’t.

Slowly, you managed to turn your head towards Suguru, standing at your bedside just as he had for the past six hours. Your vision was distorted, dimmed around the edges, but it would’ve been impossible to miss the small, white bundle in his arms, already beginning to move. You could practically taste the relief, only slightly soured by your own exhaustion. Loving Himari had been a miracle. It would’ve been a lie to say that you hadn’t expected yourself to be more callous, the second time part of you was ripped away and molded into the shape of a man you hated.

Your eyes flickered to Suguru’s expression, to those impossibly dark eyes, and instantly, your relief was replaced by pure, unadulterated dread. A smile played at the corner of his mouth, softened and careless, but… Oh, god.

You’d never seen so much death in his eyes.

“Suguru.” You hadn’t meant to say anything, and yet, your voice was clear – a little hoarse, but far stronger than you felt. Never looking away from the bundle, he hummed, and you went on. “Can I see…?”

“Him,” Suguru filled in, bouncing your newborn – your son, gently. “A healthy baby boy. It’s a shame, really – I chose names with another girl in-mind.”

Thankfully, he didn’t make you ask again. With no small amount of care, the bundle was placed gently onto your chest, Suguru’s hand remaining on your shoulder – as if only waiting for your limited strength to give out. It took you a long moment to brush the swaddling sheets to the swaddling blanket aside, little hands immediately reaching up to bat against your own, and another to register what you were looking at. It wasn’t hard to see why Suguru was so angry.

You stared down at your son, and eyes more blue than the clearest, brightest sky stared back at you.

[mooncleaver]

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[faebled-stories]

Max Level: Pleasure Unlocked

Le Sserafim's Miyawaki Sakura x Male reader

AN: So... I may have been a tiny bit late to class today 😅. Why, you ask? Well... I was up all night re-watching Marry My Husband (totally worth it, btw). Anyway, fast forward to class, and I casually checked my phone, and—wait for it—WHAT?! Almost 300 likes for Ms. Kim Chaewon?! You guys are seriously amazing! 💖 This story was supposed to drop tomorrow, but because I love you all so much... here’s a little treat! 😘✨

P.S. Why is this lecture soooo long? Send help! 😂

Miyawaki Sakura, the eldest member of Le Sserafim, had found a new thrill—one that didn’t involve the stage lights or concert crowds. Live streaming had pulled her into its vibrant, fast-paced world of colorful pixels and instant connection. It wasn’t just a hobby anymore; it became her escape—a digital realm where she could unwind and be herself. Streaming offered her a space where she could share her love for video games in the most authentic way possible. Her laughter would echo through the headset, filling the room with the joy she found in navigating complex game worlds and strategizing with her audience. It was a welcome reprieve from the pressures of K-pop stardom, a place where she could exist without expectation.

But as Sakura’s love for streaming grew, so did the distance between her and Y/N. Y/N cherished their quiet evenings together—the ones filled with soft conversations, playful glances, and the warmth of shared intimacy. Now, those moments seemed to slip away, replaced by the blue glow of Sakura's monitor and the sounds of gaming filling the room. He found himself feeling increasingly sidelined, the comforting presence of his girlfriend diluted by the endless stream of fan interactions and in-game distractions. Every evening, as he sat in their apartment watching her stream, Y/N felt like a shadow in her life, forgotten behind the glow of her screen.

The silence after Sakura's gaming sessions hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the laughter that used to fill their nights. He would lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside him, wondering when their quiet, intimate nights had been swapped for late-night streams. The late-night absence became more palpable, the connection they once shared now buried beneath layers of bright pixels and fan interactions.

Frustrated and unsure of how to bridge the growing gap between them, Y/N turned to the one person who knew both of them best—Kwon Eunbi, Sakura's former leader and the matchmaker who had brought them together in the first place. Eunbi, always the voice of reason and support, listened with a thoughtful expression as Y/N poured out his concerns.

"I just don't know how to get her attention anymore," Y/N confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "She used to light up when we were together, but now it feels like I'm competing with a screen."

Eunbi, ever the sage, leaned in with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Well, my dear, sometimes you just need to remind her of what she's missing," she said, her tone playful yet reassuring. "There's this little shop downtown. They have... items that might help reignite that spark you're worried about. A little mystery, a little surprise—that's the key."

Y/N blushed at the suggestion, but the idea intrigued him. Maybe Eunbi was right—maybe a little spontaneity was exactly what their relationship needed. "Okay noona," Y/N said with newfound determination. "Take me there. I'll do whatever it takes."

Eunbi grinned. "That's the spirit. Trust me, after this, she'll be more than eager to spend some time away from that screen, and if it doesn't work out... you have my number" the older girl winked before giving a slightly playful slap to Y/N’s behind

As soon as Eunbi led him into the little adult shop tucked away in a quiet side street downtown, Y/N’s nerves melted into curiosity. The shop was intimate, lined with rows of items that promised to stoke passion and bring lovers closer. Eunbi was more than willing to offer her guidance, clearly enjoying herself as she pointed out various products.

"Trust me," Eunbi had said with a wink, picking up a small bullet vibrator from one of the shelves. "This one is discreet but packs a punch, It's perfect for getting things started. She won’t see it coming." Y/N’s cheeks had flushed at the thought, but the image of Sakura’s surprised reaction made her smile. It was perfect for catching his girlfriend off guard.

As they continued browsing, Y/N’s eyes landed on a sleek, curved G-spot vibrating dildo that promised deeper, more intense sensations. He couldn’t help but imagine how Sakura might respond to its use—what that extra thrill might do to rekindle the heat between them. Eunbi happily skips over to Y/N with a box that he hasn't seen before, a rabbit ear vibrator "Y/N you have to get this, I’m telling you Sakura will melt and turn to putty in your hands, I have one myself and it's pretty amazing." Y/N looked at his noona with a skeptical look. Why is she so into this, is his precious noona actually not as innocent as she portrayed to the public?

Thinking about her words he can't deny that the idea of being the one to control Sakura’s pleasure sent a surge of excitement through him. He added it to his growing selection of items.

The final addition was a delicate set of pastel pink lingerie. His girlfriend's favorite color. lace-lined and revealing, something that he knew she would love, he remembered her saying she wanted something similar to this but was always ashamed and embarrassed to buy it

Y/N picked up the set knowing how much it would make his lover feel even sexier. He could already imagine the fabric clinging to his girlfriend's skin, the look in Sakura’s eyes when she sees it. There was no doubt that tonight, he would make sure all of Sakura’s attention was focused on him.

As the duo went to the counter the current cashier was about to take a break and out comes his replacement, someone who Y/N would not have expected to work here.

"Oh Eunbi unnie welcome back Oh! and Y/N oppa, what are you doing here?" the duck looking girl squealed. To say Y/N was shocked is an understatement. His girlfriend's former members, his friends, were all so familiar with this place.

"I was showing Y/N around the store, he needed my help" Responded the eldest. "Oppa is Sakura unnie giving you a hard time?" Yena responded, causing Y/N to shrink into himself in embarrassment. 

The girl started scanning the products one by one, her curious eyes glanced back and forth from y/n and each product he bought. "I didn't think Sakura unnie would be into this, I guess she's less of a prude than I thought" At this point Y/N just wanted to leave, he slightly hid behind his noona as she started placing her own products she wanted to buy. 

"I’ll pay for it Y/N I get a discount here, just pay me back after" Y/N nodded before Eunbi tapped her card and they both left with Yena waving to them, saying that they should visit her again.

With his purchases in hand, Y/N left the shop feeling embarrassed about the whole situation but he thought about the end goal and it made him feel more confident than ever. This was his chance to break through the monotony that had settled between them.

Later that evening, back in their shared apartment, Sakura was already in the midst of her nightly streaming routine. Her set up was in the living room, per Y/N's request after waking him up way too many times. It was bathed in the soft glow of the monitor, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across her face as she engaged with her audience. Y/N, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, watched from the shadows, clutching the items he had bought earlier.

He knew exactly what to do.

Grabbing a piece of paper, Y/N quickly scribbled a note and held it up just out of view of the camera, flashing it at Sakura with a grin. The note read: "Since you're so into games, let's play one right now, this will be level one, don't make anything obvious, good luck."

Sakura blinked in confusion at first, her head tilting as she tried to make sense of the message. But when she looked up at Y/N’s playful expression a delicate smile spread across his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. Sakura then glanced down at her stream, her posture adjusting as if nothing had changed, she quickly muted her mic. “ Not now Y/N, I'm busy.” before turning it back on and saying her mic was glitching. But Y/N had spent too long planning this out, spent too much money to turn back now. 

Satisfied with the confusion, Y/N smiled back. The game was on.

Without another word, Y/N crouched and began crawling under the desk. Since her desk was longer than any normal person would normally have, It made the access to the prize easy for him as he just needed to go from the side, his movements smooth and deliberate, hidden from the camera’s view. Sakura’s attention was still on the screen, her voice cheerful as she interacted with her viewers, but Y/N knew it wouldn’t be long before his girlfriend’s focus would shift entirely. Beneath the desk, Y/N felt a rush of excitement as he prepared to introduce a new level of spontaneity into Sakura’s night.

The note had been the first step—a secret shared between them, a playful challenge that only the two of them would understand. What happened next was up to Y/N, and he was ready to make it unforgettable.

Y/N smirked as he slowly slid the small bullet vibrator out of its box, he wiped it with a wet wipe before lifting up the pink short skirt in front of him, He brought the toy up and pressed it against Sakura's panty-covered mound, watching with delight as the Japanese girl jolted slightly in her seat. Sakura tried her best to maintain focus on the video game, determinedly gripping her mouse and keyboard as she attempted to hide her reactions to the subtle vibrations. But Y/N could see right through her act - the way Sakura's thighs clenched together, the slight flush creeping across her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.

To save face Sakura quickly slapped Y/N’s hand away from her wet pussy but Y/n quickly placed it back to its home.

The little vibrator buzzed away, its vibrations transmitted through the thin fabric barrier. Y/N could feel the heat radiating off of Sakura's core, could sense her wetness growing with each passing second. Sakura squirmed almost imperceptibly, fighting the urge to spread her legs further.

Sakura's game character died with a pitiful electronic squeal, breaking the spell. She blinked hard a few times, trying to regain her composure as she struggled to stay focused on the screen. Y/N chuckled quietly, pulling the vibrator away.

Rising up from his spot on the floor under the desk, Y/N made sure that he was holding eye contact with Sakura the whole way. Sakura's eyes widened as Y/N made a show of slowly swiping his fingers on the toy before rubbing them together and slowly pulling them apart a slick line of the idols juices were connecting Y/Ns fingers showing her that even though she's against it, her body doesn't lie. Y/N’s fingers were brought to his lips, eye contact still not breaking and in an exaggerated motion he licked her fingers clean. Sakura quickly glanced away, her face burning crimson now, but she couldn't keep her eyes from peeking back at Y/N. A shaky exhale escaped her lips.

Y/N just winked before reaching for a piece of paper that read Level 2 commencing before crawling back to her side of the desk, leaving Sakura even more flustered and distracted, though trying her best to play it cool. Y/N made a mental note - Sakura was even more responsive than expected. This was going to be fun indeed...

The next level involved the G-spot vibrating dildo, escalating the intensity. There was only one small thing blocking his way, deciding to deal with it he wrapped his fingers around her panties before giving it a quick and powerful tug completely ripping them. The sound loud enough to catch Sakura off guard. Shocked, the idol’s hand instinctively reached down, her fingertips brushing her now bare, wet pussy. She inhaled sharply, her body reacting to the sudden exposure, but she didn’t dare glance away from the screen.

Y/N teased her relentlessly, his fingers circling her entrance before finally pushing the toy into her slick cunt. He moved it slowly at first, letting her adjust to the sensation, feeling her muscles tighten around the intrusion. Sakura’s hand gripped her mouse tighter, her knuckles whitening as she fought to keep her composure. She nearly missed a key on her keyboard, her body betraying her as Y/N expertly played with her, pulling the toy out just as she neared the edge of release.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven pants. The subtle strain in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, who watched with a smirk, knowing just how close she was to losing control. Yet, he denied her the satisfaction of climax, bringing her to the edge again and again only to retreat, leaving her desperate and aching.

“Fuck,” Sakura muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as she tried to focus on her stream. Her viewers, blissfully unaware of the torment unfolding beneath her desk, cheered her on in the game, oblivious to the real game being played just out of sight.

Y/N pulled the toy away once more, but this time, Sakura couldn't hold back her frustration. "Ahh, what the fuck" she whispered harshly, trying to control her reaction. She couldn’t look down to see what he was doing, not without giving herself away on camera. She tried to push through the absence, hoping Y/N would relent, but the moment stretched on.

And then, without warning, Y/N switched the vibrations onto its highest setting and plunged it back into her, the thick dildo buried deep inside her clenching cunt, the toy felt around and lived up to its name, pressing on that spot she loved.

"AHHHH!" Sakura’s cry pierced the quiet of the room, her pussy convulsing around the toy as an intense orgasm overtook her. She barely had time to mute her mic, her thighs trembling and squeezing together, her stomach contracting as wave after wave of electric pleasure crashed over her. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation

Her game character spun wildly on screen, her mouse jerking out of control as her body seized up. Her viewers, concerned but unsuspecting, quickly flooded the chat with messages.

"Are you okay? What happened?" one asked.

"You just screamed like you saw a ghost, lol," commented another, oblivious to the real reason behind her outburst.

Sakura’s cheeks burned with humiliation. They had heard her, but thankfully they couldn’t know the truth—how their sweet, innocent idol was secretly being driven to the brink of madness by her boyfriend under the desk. With a shaky breath, she forced a laugh. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I thought I saw a bug under the desk," she lied, her voice higher than usual, the embarrassment clear. "You know how I get when it comes to bugs!"

Her viewers, still clueless, accepted the explanation, laughing along with her as they playfully scolded her for getting so worked up over something so trivial. But Sakura’s mind was far from the stream now. The aftershocks of her orgasm still rippled through her, and she bit her lip hard, willing her body to calm down. The irony wasn’t lost on her—here she was, playing the role of their wholesome crush while secretly being ravaged by Y/N just out of sight.

Satisfied for the moment, Y/N leaned in and gave her sensitive pussy a slow, teasing lick, sending another shiver through her body. Her thighs trembled, clenching around his head as his tongue worked its magic. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed this—missed him—but the pleasure coursing through her veins made it impossible to deny. He left a final lingering kiss against her soaked lips before pulling away, leaving her panting and desperate for more.

As Y/N stood, he reached for the final toy in his collection, pulling the rabbit-ear vibrator from his bag. His fingers traced the packaging—Rabbit Ear Toy: Maximum Clitoral Stimulation—and a grin spread across his face. The playful sparkle in his eyes revealed his mischievous intent, recalling how Eunbi had enthusiastically recommended this particular device. With a small chuckle, he knew this would be the perfect grand finale to their secret, unspoken game.

Y/N scribbled a quick note—Level three, good luck—and slid it over to Sakura. Her gaze flicked to him, and their eyes met briefly. A silent exchange of both anticipation and trepidation passed between them. The tension hung thick in the air, a blend of excitement and nerves that only heightened the moment. Sakura’s cheeks flushed as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, pretending to remain focused on the game, but her attention was split, knowing what was coming next.

As Y/N shifted back into his familiar spot under the desk, his breath hitched in anticipation. It had become his little domain, a place where he could send Sakura into oblivion without her viewers being any the wiser. He carefully unwrapped the vibrator—an egg-shaped toy, compact but powerful. The soft, flexible rabbit ears promised an intensity that could tip her over the edge with just the right pressure. His hands, steady and deliberate, moved between her legs, teasing her for a moment. The toy slipped between her folds, refusing to cooperate at first, but Y/N’s persistence paid off. He finally nestled it perfectly in place, the rabbit ears snugly embracing her clit.

For a second, he paused. The anticipation in the room grew thick as Sakura shifted in her chair, her breaths shallow. The tension between them felt electric. Y/N knew what this small delay would do to her—he was prolonging the inevitable, letting her body crave the release that was just out of reach. Then, with a press of the button, the vibrator buzzed to life.

The effect was immediate. A surge of pleasure ripped through Sakura’s body, her muscles tensing as the toy began its relentless rhythm. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately not to give herself away. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of heat cascading from her core, and her hands trembled as they hovered over her mouse and keyboard, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her body writhing ever so slightly, desperate to remain still for the camera.

Her chat lit up with messages of encouragement. Her viewers had no clue the real battle she was fighting—the one between maintaining her composure and succumbing to the pleasure that was quickly unraveling her. The boss fight on screen grew more intense, each phase of the battle requiring her utmost focus, but her concentration wavered with every flick of the vibrator against her clit. It was nearly impossible to think, let alone execute precise game mechanics, as the rabbit ears worked her over with merciless efficiency.

Sakura whispered to herself, “Y-You’ve got this, Sakura!” Her voice was strained, too high-pitched to mask her struggle, but she plastered on a wide smile for her audience. Her hands shook violently now as they moved across the keyboard, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of the game. Her pulse raced in sync with the toy, the pleasure mounting to unbearable levels.

The boss’s health bar ticked down in sync with her endurance, her every keystroke becoming sloppier, more frantic. As the final blow landed and the boss collapsed in defeat, Sakura could no longer hold back. Her body convulsed as the climax hit her like a tidal wave. A guttural shout escaped her lips as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her voice cracking with a blend of triumph and carnal release.

“YESSSS!!” she screamed, her eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with the force of the orgasm that ripped through her. Her muscles clenched, and her toes curled as the vibrator continued its assault, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until she was utterly spent.

Her viewers erupted into cheers, congratulating her on the hard-earned victory. Oblivious to the real reason behind her breathlessness and the flush on her face, they celebrated her skill and persistence. The screen flashed with messages of admiration, and Sakura forced herself to sit up, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

“Whew… that was intense!” she gasped, wiping away the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hand reached for her water glass, her fingers still trembling slightly as she took a long, much-needed drink. “Thanks for cheering me on, guys,” she added with a weak laugh, masking the exhaustion coursing through her.

As Sakura leaned back in her chair, Scrolling through other games to hopefully find a good one to end the night, Y/N, who had been patiently watching her recovery, wasn’t quite done yet. A devilish grin played on his lips as he leaned forward, his finger hovering over the vibrator’s controls. Without warning, he cranked the toy up to its highest setting.

The sudden jolt of the vibrator sent Sakura reeling. Her body stiffened, eyes widening in shock as the intensity of the stimulation threatened to unravel her all over again. Her breath hitched in her throat as her muscles tensed, gripping the arms of her chair to ground herself. Y/N’s laughter echoed softly from beneath the desk, watching her fight the new wave of pleasure with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

Sakura, the ever-composed streamer, found herself on the precipice of a new kind of experience. The powerful vibrations of the new toy sent shivers through her body, a primal force that ignited a wildfire of anticipation within her. Her body responded with a raw, undeniable intensity, the moisture building until it seeped through her folds, dripping off the chair and leaving a glistening trail on the floor. The sweet scent of candles that once permeated the room was quickly overtaken by the pungent aroma of her arousal, a testament to the burgeoning passion that consumed her.

As the pleasure reached its crescendo, a surge of instinct took over. With lightning-fast reflexes, Sakura muted her microphone and switched off her camera, craving the sanctuary of privacy for the intimate storm that was about to break. The online world faded away, and she surrendered completely to the throes of ecstasy.

The timing was impeccable. As Sakura neared her peak, Y/N, her boyfriend, seized the moment. He seamlessly combined the pleasure of the vibrator with the intimacy of his mouth, diving forward with a ravenous hunger. His tongue explored the depths of her, savoring her taste and fueling the fire that burned within her. Each flick and swirl of his tongue sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her body, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

The combined sensations were too much for her to bear, and with an animalistic moan escaped Sakura's lips, a guttural sound intertwined with a scream that seemed to rise from the very core of her being. "UGH FUCK YEEESSSS Y/N!" Her voice was a raw expression of unrestrained pleasure. She grasped his hair, her body convulsing in a wave of ecstasy. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him pulling his face impossibly close to her core, her muscles contracting and relaxing with each tremor, the old gaming chair squeaking in protest with every movement. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant hue, a visible marker of her heightened state as she rode the wave of her orgasm with unbridled abandon, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Sakura climaxed with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Y/N continued his ministrations, prolonging her orgasm until she felt every ounce of pleasure.

For Y/N, the experience was both exhilarating and intensely intimate. He couldn't see anything; his vision was blocked by Sakura's body. Each subtle movement sent shivers down his spine—her soft skin felt warm and alive against him, her thighs encasing his head in a passionate vice that was as constricting as it was pleasurable. it was just the two of them, enveloped in a cocoon of heat and desire.

This was a Sakura he rarely saw, one that lay hidden behind the carefully curated persona of her online streams. In those moments, she had shed the facade of the cheerful, bubbly entertainer and revealed a side of herself that was raw and unfiltered. It was the Sakura from before her streaming career, the girl who had always been playful and spontaneous, exuding an authentic vulnerability that left him breathless. Her laughter echoed in the confines of his mind as he realized how seldom he’d had the chance to witness this intimate version of her.

The chaos of streaming and the demands of her audience faded into the background, replaced by a potent chemistry that crackled between them. His own heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum echoing the urgency of the moment, while his breath hitched at the raw display of passion and surrender before him. Every heartbeat was a reminder of how deeply and irrevocably he craved this connection.

This moment carved a permanent mark on him, etching itself into his memory like a secret tattoo. It was a reminder of the beautiful, complex dynamics that fueled their relationship—beyond the streaming lights and scripted interactions lay a blend of affection, longing, and a hint of danger. Their souls intertwined in this rare instance, revealing as much about their hearts as it did about their desires. The very essence of their bond lay anchored in these fleeting but fervent exchanges, making each encounter a treasure and a risk he was willing to embrace.

Sakura's breath came in ragged gasps as she slowly released her hold on Y/N, her legs trembling, weak from the intense stimulation. The room seemed to amplify all her senses, the cooling sensation of sweat mingling with her skin a stark contrast to the recent heat. Her legs, barely able to support her, struggled to find their footing as she fought to regain her composure. The assistant to her pleasure, the formidable toy that had helped push her to the edge of chaotic bliss, lay on the floor, a glistening reminder of the storm that had just passed. Its surface, coated in her essence, served as a tangible testament to her unleashed passion.

Realizing that her momentary loss of control had severed her connection with her viewers, Sakura quickly attempted to regain her composure. Her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. But before she could complete the act of resuming, Y/N’s steady hand came to rest against her thigh, gently halting her fidgeting. Kneeling between her legs, his tall frame allowing him to almost come face to face with her, their eyes meeting in a moment that felt both electric and profoundly intimate.

Sakura's mind swirled with a haze of emotions, a flicker of melancholy washing over her like a soft tide. She missed these moments—the brief interludes where they could shed their roles and embrace a deeper connection, where laughter and genuine emotion melded seamlessly into something more. Each stolen glance, every shared laugh had been a thread weaving them closer, and yet, amidst the chaos of their lives, she felt those threads fraying, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

In that heavy silence, Y/N reached for her, his fingers warm as they gently cupped the back of her head. There was no need for words; his eyes spoke volumes, conveying understanding and longing in a single gaze. Then, with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine, he leaned in and sealed their lips together in a passionate kiss. The flavors of her arousal mingled with saliva—a delicious, intoxicating symphony that danced on their tongues, each movement igniting a fire deep within her core.

Sakura was momentarily consumed by the warmth of his embrace, every worry dissolving into the sweet elixir of their connection. But as the kiss lingered, her heart raced at the thought of what lay beyond this moment. Still lost in the afterglow, Sakura whimpered softly when Y/N finally pulled away, his lips brushing against hers gently as they parted. His gaze held her captive, a silent promise lingering in the space between them, but it only deepened her desire, leaving her craving more.

This was the testament to their bond—a connection that blossomed amidst the chaos of her storm, a lingering whisper of hope amid uncertainty. She knew she couldn’t let this slip through her fingers again, not when they had ventured into a territory that felt so beautifully raw and undeniably real.

But as the seasoned entertainer she was, she corrected her streaming gadget, turning her webcam back on and adjusting her microphone. Her face, still flushed from her recent exertion and her lips swollen, was now contorted into an apologetic smile as she addressed her audience, hiding the true reason behind her sudden departure by blaming it on unpredictable internet issues.

"Sorry about that, guys," she panted, her voice slightly uneven with the remnants of her peak. "We had a little technical glitch," she continued, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous hint that was not quite caught by her virtual audience.

The chat, a flurry of messages, was filled with questions and mild irritation. Her viewers were curious, their previous excitement now shifted to suspicion and a growing sense of doubt . They wondered what had caused such a sudden disruption. Yet, despite their curiosity, they respected her privacy, unwilling to push for explanations that she was not willing to give until she was ready. In their minds, the truth of her interruptions could often be their most decadent fantasies, creating an air of mystique and allure around her that kept them coming back for more. Sakura, a master of her craft, knew how to keep her audience hooked, turning even a glitch into a potential performance enhancement, as her viewers' imaginations filled in the blanks left by their sudden disconnection.

Y/N, with an air of mystery swirling about him, gracefully emerged from under the desk, his presence suddenly filling the room with an electric energy. As if appearing from the shadows, he moved with a fluidity that captivated Sakura, drawing her gaze irresistibly. From his vantage point behind the monitor, Y/N's eyes met Sakura's, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths.

His movements were deliberate, with a rhythm that matched the beating of Sakura's heart, as if he were conducting an intimate dance where only the two of them could hear the music. The fact that he planned this whole thing gave Sakura a warm feeling. The remnants of their shared passion became a declaration of love, a promise of intimacy, and a reaffirmation of their bond.

Satisfied with his thorough work, Y/N offered Sakura a look, his eyes darting back and forth from Sakura and a bag that was placed just to the side. A secretive smile playing upon his lips. It was a silent challenge, an invitation for Sakura to join him in their next adventure. Turning away, he walked calmly towards the bedroom.

As he cleaned the toys and meticulously arranged them in their new resting place, the nightstand, Y/N took the time to appreciate the small details of their shared space. The nightstand, once merely a piece of furniture with no purpose, now held a whole new meaning, a symbol of their intimate connection.

Sakura remained seated, her breath catching in her throat as Y/N disappeared into the shadows of the bedroom. The atmosphere lingered with a charged energy, the room still humming from the intensity of their shared moment. Sakura’s mind raced, replaying the image of Y/N’s mischievous smile, his teasing, deliberate movements, and the unspoken promise that hung in the air like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

For a moment, Sakura sat frozen, the temptation pulling her forward. She felt a surge of warmth radiate through her, a tug towards the bedroom where Y/N awaited, his presence as enticing as ever. The weight of their connection, unspoken but deeply understood, anchored her as she ended the stream and rose from her seat.

Sakura’s eyes fell to the bag on the floor, under the coffee table, its presence both familiar and intriguing. She had seen Y/n walk in with it  earlier but hadn’t given it much thought in the midst of her stream. Now, as the evening light dimmed into twilight and the apartment grew quieter, curiosity took over. Slowly, she bent down, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the bag as she picked it up. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a ripple of anticipation through her. 

Peeling back the wrapping, her breath caught when her eyes landed on the contents. A stunning set of lingerie lay folded neatly inside, the color immediately striking her—her favorite color. The rich, silky fabric shimmered slightly in the low light, delicate lace tracing intricate patterns along its edges. She lifted it out of the bag, feeling the cool smoothness of the material slip between her fingers. The fabric felt luxurious, softer than she imagined, and as she held it up, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Y/N had remembered.

In the whirlwind of their lives, it wasn’t often that someone paid attention to the small details, but Y/N always had a way of doing just that. Not just any lingerie, but a set that spoke to her tastes, a color that made her feel powerful, beautiful, sexy. The care and thoughtfulness behind it warmed her from the inside, the kind of warmth that settled deep, in the quiet places of the heart.

Sakura didn't waste time, a surge of excitement bubbling up inside her. Without even heading to the bathroom, she began to undress right there in the middle of the living room. Her body was sore, every muscle aching from the games “levels”, but the thrill of the moment outweighed the discomfort. She moved slowly, peeling away the layers of her clothing, and as each piece fell to the floor, she felt lighter. Her breath hitched when the cool air of the room brushed against her bare skin.

Pulling the lingerie up over her legs, she marveled at how perfectly it fit, as if it had been crafted just for her. The lace clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her figure in a way that made her feel both strong and undeniably feminine. She caught a glimpse of herself in the nearby mirror and paused for a moment. The reflection staring back at her was striking—she looked lovely and powerful. The fatigue that had settled into her bones seemed to dissipate, replaced by an invigorating energy, one that thrummed beneath her skin like a quiet storm ready to break.

Her gaze shifted from the mirror to the slightly ajar bedroom door, and that’s when she felt it. The pull. It was almost magnetic, an invisible force drawing her toward Y/N. There had always been something between them ever since they met, something more than words or physical attraction. It was an unspoken connection, a shared intimacy that went beyond the surface of things. Y/N had a way of turning even the smallest gestures into something profound. A simple gift of lingerie wasn’t just a gift; it was a conversation, an invitation, a reminder of the bond they shared.

Sakura’s heart raced as she stood at the threshold of the bedroom, her hand resting lightly on the doorframe. From where she stood, she could see Y/N’s silhouette bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The room itself was dim, quiet, filled with the gentle hum of the night outside. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, focused. There was a look in his gaze—one that she knew well. Mischief, affection, desire, all wrapped into one.

Her breath caught again, but this time it wasn’t the cold air or the tightness of the lingerie. It was the way Y/N looked at her. As if she were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. As if the night was theirs and theirs alone.

Without breaking eye contact, Sakura stepped inside the room, her bare feet soundless against the wooden floor. The door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound echoing in the quiet. It was as if the outside world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in the cocoon of their own making. The air between them was thick with anticipation, with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t say a word. His gaze traveled over her slowly, taking in the sight of her standing before him in the delicate lace and silk he had chosen. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, appreciative smile, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a smoldering intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

She moved closer, the space between them shrinking with every step. Her own breathing had become shallow, her pulse quickening in response to the heat building between them. It wasn’t just about the physical desire; it was the emotional weight of everything they had shared, everything they had been through together, all condensed into this one, intimate moment.

Sakura reached the edge of the bed, standing just before him, her body illuminated by the soft, golden light. Y/N reached out, his hand gently grazing her thigh, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace. His touch was light, teasing, sending a shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, the feeling of his skin against hers.

He had given her so much today, endless pleasures each one more intense than the last. But now, as she stood before him, she knew the time had come, it was his turn. She smiled, slow and teasing, as her fingers toyed with the straps of the lingerie. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her voice a soft whisper filled with promise.

"You’ve given me so many gifts today baby. Now it’s your turn to unwrap your present." 

She gave him multiple kisses from his neck to his cheek, ending with a needy one on his lips.

“Since you're so into games, let's play one right now,” her words mimicking those that started this whole thing.

The night had just begun, filled with endless possibilities Sakura's situation mirrored her favorite games. She had failed multiple times but knew that this was a fresh start, an extra life, With a smile she positioned herself face to face with his crotch and pulled down Y/N's pants exposing his member, she gave the tip a quick kiss and lick, before reminding him that singing was not the only thing her mouth was used for.

Miyawaki Sakura was back on level one.

[controld3vil]

𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

pairing(s): aemond targaryen x twin!reader

synopsis: “My son, Daeron, what’s he like?” Alicent wondered as she couldn’t recall ever waiting so eagerly for news from her youngest. Oldtown felt distant now; her home was here. “And his sister?”

notes ➜ i got major writers block from writing for rhaenyra :( content warnings: targcest, twincest, happy & bittersweet reunions 😋, features only ONE scene with aemond (at the very end :/), slowburnn

Despite the turmoil of her life – the crowning of her son, the tragic murder of her grandson, Jaehaerys, and the loss of her father as Hand – Alicent never felt as anxious as she did now waiting to meet her son and daughter after more than five years apart. Love for them lingered in her heart, even amidst the estrangement that marked their relationship. Oldtown seemed like a distant memory, a place she sometimes revisited in dreams. It was a compact city of scholars and believers, a center of Faith that once filled her with strength, a quality she now desperately craved. The Queen Dowager sat with her hands folded in her lap, her fingers nervously plucking at the debris on her cuticles, an irritating habit she found impossible to suppress. Each tug felt like a reflection of her own fraying nerves as she prepared to face the children she loved yet scarcely knew.

A hint of red bourbon hair catches Alicent’s eye. “Gwayne.” Her brother turns toward her, momentarily distracted by the horse at his side.

“Sister.”

“I wish to give you my blessing,” she says, her hands folded solemnly. Gwayne steps forward, with a casual ease. 

“Wow,” he replies, a light-hearted tone in his voice. “My thanks to the Dowager Queen.” He bobs before glancing back to his tasks, preparing to march south the new Hand, Ser Criston. His men and the forces of King's Landing would soon form a formidable army. 

“Have you heard from father?” Alicent asks, her voice laced with anxiety. “I sent word to Highgarden and Oldtown but, there has been no word.” She twiddles her fingers, a restless gesture as she fights to quell her unease. 

Her brother picks up her distress. “Otto Hightower is ever resourceful. He will send news when there is news.” His tone suggests a reassuring nonchalance, yet it also reveals his own certainty. Gwayne knew their father well – he rarely wrote unless there was something significant to report. It was not unusual for Otto Hightower to remain silent; he preferred to communicate only when necessary. 

Though their conversation comes to a halt, the Queen is left unsatisfied with Gwayne’s dismissal. Her heart is heavy with concern, and she longs for more than just the absence of news.

She peeks into the distance before turning back to him. “I often wonder what life could have been if he had brought you to court instead.” Earnestly, she offers a tentative smile, her expression drawing a warm grin from her older brother, who is charmed by her speculation.

“I’m the oldest son,” he replies, focusing on the object in his hand. “It was right that I was raised in Oldtown.”

“You were eight years of age and motherless. It must have been difficult.” Alicent’s tone carries a mixture of sympathy and concern, her desire to delve deeper into the topic. The knight senses her intention; their conversation is more than just light banter.

He shakes his head again, his demeanor shifting. “You get on with it, don't you? When there isn’t any choice.” His eyes are expectant, as if urging her to reveal what’s truly on her mind.

“My son, Daeron,” the Queen begins, her lips tightening with a mix of pride and longing. “What’s he like?” A small glimmer of affection leaves her eyes when she mentions her youngest, though it stings to know how long it has been since she received from him or even heard his name mentioned. She regrets not having time to raise him, to know the man he might become. Daeron feels like a stranger to her, and despite her disappointment, all she longs for is to seek insight from someone who knows him well. 

“Does he not write to you?”

“Less and less, these days.” A subtle curve of her lips transforms into a sad frown. 

“Ten and six now,” Gwayne says with a gentle chuckle, warmth flooding his expression at the thought of his beloved nephew. “Let us perhaps hold less of his interest. He's stalwart, clever – adept with both his lute and his sword. And a feature in the fancies of many young ladies, I'll wager.” He pauses, catching the concern on her face. “He's kind."

Relief washes over Alicent, her shoulders relaxing as if a heavy weight has been lifted. A kind son – at least he embodies the benevolence she always had hoped for her children. 

“Kindness is a quality I find lacking in his brothers,” she admits, her tone reflecting candid honesty that earns a thoughtful hum from Gwayne. Her thoughts drift back to the one person she has longed to meet. “And his sister?”

The Hightower knight fixes his gaze fondly on his sister. The mention of another niece, one he has watched over, brings forth a rare tenderness in her older brother – a warmth his sister rarely sees. “Well she’s certainly well-regarded,” Gwayne replies, placing both hands on his hips and shifting his weight to one foot. A playful pride lights up his face as he reminisces about the recent achievements of her youngest children. “She’s adapted remarkably well among the scholars. She carries herself with grace and resolve, and they speak highly of her intellect. I’m sure her letters, though few, speak of contentment and growth.” 

“Yes, she has,” The Dowager Queen giggles, recalling your recent letter. With every message came, your handwriting and style has evolved. A smile brightens her face at the memory of her earlier struggles with grammar; the first few letters had been messy and disorganized. Though she may have had her doubts as your mother, she is undeniably proud of your respected place among the scholars. “She thrives, or so she assures me. But I yearn to see for myself the woman she is becoming."

Gwayne offers her subtle comfort, placing a hand gently over hers. His reassuring grin promises that when you and Daeron finally come to King’s Landing, a part of her guilt-driven heart will be lifted. “I understand your worries, sister. You’ll have the chance to see them both soon enough.”

Days later, the army returns to King’s Landing, exhausted from a ruthless battle that claimed both casualties and deaths. Ser Gwayne and the Hand, Ser Criston led the march back, to focus on reinforcing their troops and resupplying. The journey was grueling, marked with constant vigilance against Rhaenyra's forces. However, the tension eased momentarily when a dark purple dragon appeared overhead without warning. While the sight terrified the hearts of men, it ignited a spark of relief and joy to Ser Gwayne’s face, leaving Ser Criston bewildered. 

The Hand had never seen a dragon with white claws and plum scales. 

As you made your unannounced arrival at King’s Landing, chaos erupted. Townsfolk scrambled and fled as your dragon, Blood Moon, circled the castle grounds. Many had not seen your dragon in a long time, and some had never laid their eyes on it before your departure. Blood Moon screeches menacingly, soaring above, casting a shadow over the weary army under Cole’s command. Dragon! The townsfolk gasped in horror, frantically jumping from house to house to hide from the inevitable. 

Meanwhile, the Queen Mother rushed to the courtyard, her heart racing at the familiar, nihilistic roar of your dragon. When she caught sight of Blood Moon passing her window, Alicent felt a rush of adrenaline – she knew you had arrived. You were home. 

She clutches her dress, tightly, a sharp pain in her chest as the sight of you approaching makes her eyes water instantly. You follow behind her brother and Ser Criston on horseback, conspicuously absent from her dragon. Yet, somehow she knows Blood Moon is close. “My sweet girl!” Alicent rushes forward the moment you dismount, locking eyes with you. Gods, you looked so beautiful. It feels like an eternity since you last met. 

“Mother!” In an instant, you were a child again, clamping your arms around her as if to anchor yourself in her presence. You sink into her embrace, basking in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her touch as you nestled your head against her neck, filled with affection.

Alicent pulls back, cradling your face into her hands. “It’s been so long. You’ve grown so much. I can see the change in your eyes…” Her dark, chestnut-colored eyes brim with tears. Her lips quiver as she fights back a sob. 

You hold her hands, and offer a soft smile. “I missed you, Mother.” She beams at you, fondly with nostalgia, pecking a gentle kiss on your forehead before gliding her thumbs softly across your cheeks. Gods, you’ve changed. You’re no longer the frightened little girl who resisted staying in King’s Landing. Though Alicent regretted seeing you so sad, she knew it was best for you to learn and grow alongside your brother, Daeron.

There was a time in your early childhood when you dreamed of becoming a lady in waiting for Highgarden, yet when the day arrived, you unexpectedly became homesick, clinging to Alicent like a newborn.

But now, you stand before her, a grown woman. Gone are the days of silly hair ribbons and flowing dresses; you’ve matured into a striking figure, like a blooming rose. Alicent notices how you’ve preferred to braid your hair, gathered in a high ponytail with intricate braids extending from your forehead to the base of your tail. This style frames your face perfectly, allowing her to see your expression fully—happy and radiant. You even complement your look with a striking outfit, featuring long leather garments reminiscent of dragon scales and breastplates adorned with chromatic metal accents. 

“I trust the journey to King’s Landing wasn’t too taxing, niece?” Gwayne quips with a playful grin. You let out a short giggle sensing your uncle’s presence behind you. 

“It was fine, thank you, Uncle.” You chuckled, turning to see Gwayne with his hands clasped behind his back. Stray hairs fell across his forehead from the skirmish days prior. Though he appeared weary, he maintained a façade of composure as he greeted you.

“You must be exhausted from the journey,” Alicent perks up, as she brushes her fingers over your bare knuckles, sheeply. “Come let us find a place for you to rest and share what I have missed.”  

A warm fuzziness flutters in your chest as you savor your mother’s tender urgency. Few understand the depth of her protective love for her children, most only notice her as the former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Even though you haven’t stepped foot in King’s Landing for so long, you appreciate her efforts to ensure your childhood was a happy one. Many dismiss her as a princess bound to duty to bear heirs, but all forget the countless moments that defined her as a mother. They do not recall her swaddling young Aegon when she was only ten and nine, or rushing to the Godswood to catch Helaena from her wandering. Even that time you attempted to make a flower crown, too small for her head, which Alicent wore to appease your pleas.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with your mother who was determined to stay close to you at all times. You were not sure if she took note of your hesitance, but stepping back into King’s Landing stirred distant memories you had long buried. You couldn’t help but gaze around the different sections of the castle, wondering if any of the tapestries had changed or if new furniture had been added. This familiar yet strange home felt like an enigma as you tried to thread together the small moments of your past. 

You had changed out of your dragon gear, and now wore a stunning silver dress, laced with an embroidered corset featured with blossoming gold florals. The transparent cuffs by your wrist added an ethereal touch as well as the sleeves. The Red Keep was a serene and quiet place to study and chat with your mother. You sat beside her by a small table, discussing the latest news from the city. Rumors spread quickly as if they were smoke and you both indulged in whatever topic came to mind, relishing in the intimacy in the moment. Sometimes you would bring up about your time in Oldtown while your mother spoke vaguely about the Council's plans. In all, you were spouting words to fill in the inevitable space of silence, cherishing the connection that always bound you as mother and daughter. 

“How is Aegon?” Your eyes flashed with concern when your mother placed down her drink. There was a glint of sadness you saw from her. For a quick flicker, it disappears when the widowed Queen plucks one of the pastries from the plate in the center. 

Her voice, though tender, betrays her hesitation. “He is healing. But he will never be the same.” The words hang heavily in the air, a quiet acceptance of the grim truth. Aegon’s body had been ravaged, rotted with infection, covered in sores and pus. Alicent couldn’t say it outright but she knew the cruel reality; he might never walk again. The thought of it was too heavy to bear to tell her daughter. She couldn’t tell you the full extent of his suffering; the memory was still fresh in her mind as if it was only yesterday. 

Your breath hinders as you process her words, and a deep frown pulls at your face. “He is alive. That is something I am thankful to the Gods for.” Though your relationship with your eldest brother had always been distant, it was never cold. You made sure to write to all of your siblings whenever you could, each filled with personal messages. Aegon, in particular, was never fond of books or history. He was the one who’d light up any room, the first one to suggest a drink when things had dulled. You would not deny how much you missed his infectious laughter, his wide  grin that could cast away your sorrows. 

Now it seemed, that smile might never return. The war had stolen it from him as it had stolen so much. A lump forms in your throat, and suddenly you feel tears stinging your eyes. You wiped them away with the back of your palm. 

Alicent’s gaze falls, lost in thought as she considers the words she wanted to say but can never bring herself to. She felt, even now, like a failure as a mother. Her mistakes, her foolishness, lingered unspoken between you both. The few letters she sent, the distant exchanges, were all reminders of the distance that had grown between you over the years. She could feel the weight of her own neglect – the little attention she’d given you in letters should have been enough to make you stop writing altogether. But despite it all, you never once turned away from her. Alicent had never felt worthy of your love, and though you had every reason to harbor anger or resentment, her heart ached for failing her children. 

It was then she felt your hand creep over hers, the simple touch sending a jolt of surprise through her. Your mother lifts her solemn visage, her heart breaking as she meets your eyes. For all the pain and disappointment she imagined you had, there was no trace anywhere in your expression. You looked at her with stoic calmness, your deep indigo eyes pierced with consideration – and a hint of fondness that made her heart ache even more. 

Your demeanor shifts, softening into a sympathetic grin, and with a tear-stricken pout still clinging to your lips, you squeeze her hand gently. “None of this is your fault, Mother.”

“It is,” She weakly admits, her voice faltering as she fights the urge to break down in front of her sweet daughter. “It is my fault, for your brother’s cruelty. Don’t you see?” 

You pause, the weight of her words sinking in, but you reply with unwavering certainty. “Aemond may be cruel but he would never kill his brother.” The words come out steady but something shifts when you fully acknowledge your twin since your arrival. His absence feels oddly conspicuous, like a shadow that haunts the hall. The Red Keep, so familiar, now seems strangely hollow with its newly reassigned staff and the ever watchful eyes of the City Watch. Yet, even as the quiet settles in, a desire stirs in you to seek him out. Aemond was never far, even when distance separates you. Now, back in King’s Landing, you find that something in your restless heart settles, as though the mere proximity of the Red Keep could ease your disturbed thoughts. 

“You have not laid eyes on him in years, my love,” Alicent pleads, a tremor in her voice as she lowers her gaze, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t know what he has become. Aemond is angry.” The visible fear in her earth-toned eyes is raw and unsettling, like a shadow that lingers in the room, one that threatens to swallow the very air between you.

The incident at Rook’s Rest was ambiguous. You were not there to witness it firsthand, and while you had your suspicions, you could never know for certain who struck first. But you were sure – it had not been intentional. Aegon and Aemond didn’t see eye to eye, but they had always shared the same blood, the same bond. Now, from what your mother described, a flicker of doubt stirs within you, uneasy and unfamiliar, making your heart sink. What had Aemond become in these years of absence? 

After your chat, a Kingsguard arrived to summon your mother on urgent matters. The former Queen’s gazes lingered on you for a moment, her expression filled with guilt for interrupting your time on short notice. She catches your comforting smile as she gives a curt nod and exits the Red Keep. 

For a while, you were left to your residence with the comforts of nature. You sat by the window, absentmindedly nibbling on forgotten baked goods, their sweetness grounding you as your eyes drift toward the sky. The clouds moved at a glacial pace, their slow drift contrasted to your storm of thoughts brewing in your mind. Momentarily, you are allowed to forget your purpose for coming back to King’s Landing. The afternoon sunshine bathed the room in a golden light, casting a calm, almost serene glow on everything. 

You didn’t need much more than that – the gentle warmth, the quiet, and familiar taste of tart delicacies your mother knew you loved. It was enough to quiet your mind, if only for a while. The taste of pastries, sweet and tangy, reminded you of simpler times, of moments before the weight of duty and family obligations tangled your soul. You found yourself yearning for that comfort, anything to keep your mind off the growing unease with the inevitable encounter with Aemond.

It was the early evening when the bells of Baelor rang out. The Great Sept, just a few houses down from King’s Landing, held its call long enough for it to be heard in the very heart of the Red Keep. You had arrived hours earlier, slipping through the castle halls with grace of a predator – quiet, deliberate, waiting for the surge of adrenaline that always accompanied your return to this place. 

The Council had met moments prior to your arrival, so you knew you’d have to wait until the morning to join them. The politics of the realm could wait. In the meantime, you roamed the ancient, empty corridors of the Keep, your footsteps the only sound in the silence. The air was thick with history, heavy with memories of a time when the halls had been full of life, of laughter and conversation – before everything had changed. 

Your thoughts drifted to your siblings. It’s been far too long since you had been together in one place. The Red Keep, usually so bustling with court, now seemed like a ghost town – empty and hollowed out, a shadow of its former self. The events of the past loomed over you, pressing down with the weight of what had been lost, what had been broken. 

Perhaps this is why you found yourself at Aegon’s chambers. Your heart pounded with anticipation when the doors swung open, revealing the King’s quarters. The air within was thick and quiet murmurs of the maesters attending to him, their words halting when they saw you – your unexpected presence casting a brief shadow over the room. It was strange. To see your brother like this – unconscious, barely clinging to life was a sharp bitter thing. 

Sorrow gripped you tightly and unrelenting, as you gazed upon Aegon’s tarred state. His skin, once vibrant and strong, was now tarred and burnt, the pale sheen of his injuries almost too much to bear. His legs, now broken, twists, spoke of the pain you could never truly know. For a time you spoke as thought he could hear you, as though he might awaken any moment. You told of your travels through Oldtown, of Daeron’s small but proud achievements. The familiar weight of his absence made your words tumble out like a lifeline, a way to fill the space between the present and the years that had passed.

It was comforting, in a way, to be near him again. Though this was not the reunion you had hoped. Years ago, Aegon struggled with the position of being the firstborn son to King Viserys. The expectations that pressed upon him, the constant weight of responsibility, were more than any young should bear. Your mother, with her quiet but unyielding voice, had often spoken of it – how the throne was his to inherit, and how Rhaenyra’s claim, a constant reminder of a fractured family, only deepened the divide. The more Alicent and Otto insisted on Aegon’s future, the more you saw him under pressure. He never wanted to defy his sister, yet torn between duty and blood. You had watched him from the shadows, seen his faults, his mistakes, but only made you love him more. In his moments of playfulness, you had found a fleeting sensation of freedom, a reminder that even in the midst of terrible situations, he was your brother. 

You watched his chest rise and fall, with each breath fragile of life. The weight on your heart lifted, if only slightly, as held onto that small reassurance: Aegon was still alive. He was still strong. He was the Blood of the Dragon, the rider of Sunfrye, and he was your King. No matter what came next, you would stand beside him, sworn to protect him, willing to give your last breath if it meant keeping him safe.

You left your brother to rest, and set off in search of your next destination. Deep down, you knew where you’d go first, where you always went for comfort, to Helaena. She is the balm to your restless soul, the voice that could untangle your anxieties with a few soft words. When the world seemed too large, too overwhelming, her presence was a silent sanctuary. 

Helaena, the second daughter of King Viserys, had been both a mentor and maternal figure to you in your younger years. Her kindness had been a steady anchor in your life, her wisdom a guiding light when the weight of your responsibilities felt too much to bear. As a child, you sought her out whenever you felt lost or afraid and her gentle guidance had given you the courage to venture into new worlds. Her advice forever shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully realized until you left for Oldtown. In that city, with its strange customs and faces, you leaned onto her worlds to adapt quickly, to carve out your own place. 

When you found your sister in your old playroom, sewing quietly with her daughter, it felt as if no time had passed. The familiar sight and sounds of the room washed over you – its warmth, its history, the memories that had once made it a sanctuary for both of you. Helaena’s moved with the same careful precision you remembered, her fingers threading the needle with quiet grace.  Her daughter, Jaehaera, sat beside her, her wide eyes fixated on her mother’s work. You stood for a moment, watching them and a smile tugging at your lips. The sight of them – mother and daughter, together in their own world, stirred something deep inside you. The years between you seemed to melt away in an instant. 

Quietly, you crept closer, your footsteps soft on the floor as you approached the pair. A mischievous grin spread across your face, without earning you shouted, using your niece’s shrill cry to startle your sister. Helaena 's hands faltered, the needle slipping from her grasp as her face registered in shock, her expression frozen for just a heartbeat before it shifted into relief and then pure joy. 

She stood quickly, her eyes wide with excitement, as she took you in from head to toe. And then, without a moment, a silent sob escaped her lips, her hand pressing to her chest as she whispered your name.

“Sister…” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. 

Unexpected and sharp, there was a lump in your throat. You swallowed it down, trying to steady yourself but the emotions surged in a way you had not anticipated. “It’s good to see you, Helaena.” you whispered, the words catching as they left your lips.

For what felt like an eternity, you indulge yourself in the soothing warmth of rosemary oils and the sweet aroma of fragrant tea. The tapestry above the balcony swayed gently in the rhythm with the tides, the fabric rippling like satin kissed by the breeze, catching the light in delicate waves. The sunshine poured in the small opening between the outside world and your private space, casting a soft, translucent pink hue across the horizon. The late summer warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, filling the room with a quiet comfort that you never find elsewhere. 

A porcelain tea cup sat at the edge of the table, its base a soft coral pink, the edges trimmed in lustrous gold. Besides it, the matching coaster resonated with the same elegance. The teapot shared the same intricate design, its spout crafted to imitate the graceful curves of vineyard vines. Tiny matcha leaves curled around the handle, their delicate shapes glinting with golden highlights. It was a beautiful set – one that made the room feel like a pristine sanctuary, but something was missing. The topper.  

Sometimes, in the stillness of these moments, you would let your imagination roam. You would pretend you were some from a faraway land. It seemed childish, almost absurd, but it lingered with you. You often wondered what the world was like beyond Westeros, the vast deserts of Dorne, the mysterious lands of Essos, or the distant, shadowed shores of Asshai. Asshai especially. The thought of it, so remote, so mysterious, had always called to you. You used to daydream that you were a girl from Asshai, someone who knew nothing of wealth, beauty, or the court of King’s Landing. 

You imagined yourself seeing the teapot for the first time. You would change your character, each time with a different persona – some curious wanderer, a child of the unknown, discovering the simple elegance of a teapot that seemed to carry more meaning than it should. You’d pretend to be in awe, a stranger to luxury and react differently each time, letting your curiosity guide your every movement. 

It was strange, but comforting. In those moments, you could be anyone – but the child of a royal bloodline.

Alicent, however, found you peculiar. In many ways, you were nothing like Aemond, despite being his twin. While she hoped you would be as easy to mold as Helaena or as compliant as Aemond, you were neither. You had a quiet way of drawing attention, of showing interest in things that made others uneasy. Aemond, with his fiery intensity, demanded things, but you – your power laid in silence. 

From a young age, you have learned how to meet people with nothing more than a glance, a tilt of your head, or the quiet intensity in your eyes. Alicent never could figure out how you did it – how you could command attention with such subtlety. She often watched, perplexed, as your eyes would light up at the slightest opportunity or how your lips would press into a small pout when the Kingsguard denied you entry into her office. And then, with practiced ease, you would cry – small, silent tears that glistened like pearls on your cheeks. The effect was always the same. Suddenly, the men who had once denied you would be at your feet, ready to do whatever you asked. 

Alicent didn’t know the secret. You did. 

It was almost too easy for you, the way the ceramic topper fits perfectly into your hand, as if it had always been meant for you. The weight, barely there, seemed to vanish the moment you cradled it, leaving only the sensation of smooth china beneath your fingers. Your gaze traced the delicate rims, following the curve with the tip of your thumb as you glide over the shiny finish. 

For an old teapot, it remained unchanged, an artifact from the past that, like the porcelain, had been carefully preserved. It reminded you of childhood, of simpler days that felt like they belonged to someone else. A smile, slow and wistful, tugged at your lips as memories drifted to the surface – tea parties held in this room, alone with the teapot, lost in your imagination.

“Do you miss this?” Helaena’s meek words cut through the quiet, grounding you back into reality. Her words were simple, yet they carried weight. She stood before you, her eyes intent but tender, watching you with a knowing gaze that seemed to see straight through your soul. Never one for many words, Helaena was always able to strike the right chords when it mattered. Conversations between you two never cluttered, there was no need for endless explanation. It was as if, without saying much, you both understood each other completely. She knew the thoughts you carried without needing to ask. And somehow, you always knew hers.

Your grin fades, the playfulness slipping away as you grow contemplative, searching her face for any trace of misunderstanding or unspoken hurt. 

“I do,” Your tone coming out slightly more strained than usual. “They don’t have tea parties or play dates in Oldtown. They don’t have anything, really,” The final words felt heavier, laid with sorrow that you hadn’t quite realized was there until now.

A somber silence hangs, the weight of your absence pressing down onto the room. Oldtown had been another world entirely – foreign, starkly different from the warmth of King’s Landing. As much as you had once embraced the city’s beauty, part of your childhood still lived here, among these walls, among the memories shared in this very room. Your eyes drift over the old ornaments and forgotten toys, each one sparking a fleeting moment of nostalgia. It was as though you were caught between two places, two worlds, each different from the other at the ends of the map. 

Helaena, ever so quiet, glances down at her sewn collage, her fingers pausing mid-motion. She was lost in thought, the needle still in her hand as she set it aside carefully. Without a word, she scoots closer, settling beside you on a plush cushion. The cushion is periwinkle, a soft reminder of your childhood obsession with the color pink. You smile faintly, remembering how everything had once been pink to you – the teapot set, the floors, even the smallest trinkets. If you had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, Helaena was certain the banners would have been changed to a soft shade of pink, just because you would have insisted on it.

Of course you would. The thought of it, so hysterical, almost makes you laugh. But for now, there’s only the quiet companionship of the moment, and the comfort of your sister’s presence beside you like a silent reassurance that despite the years and distance, this place, this feeling, would always be home. 

When the Queen’s knees made contact with yours, you felt the quiet look, filled with anticipation, but not fear, only certainty and love. “I hope you mean to stay this time.” 

Her words settled in the space between you, gentle but insistent, like a tender plea. For a second, you simply stared at her, her warmth radiating outward, but your response came without thinking. 

 “Stay?” you asked, almost as if the very concept of it was foreign to you. 

“Stay here,” She planted her palm onto the soft woolen rug, her fingers splayed wide, almost spider-like. “Here.”

There were a few things about Helaena that could catch you off guard, but her sweetness had always been one of them – an undeniable force that softened even the hardest edges of your heart. Still you hesitated.

“Helaena—” You faltered, unsure how to voice the conflict swirling inside you. “I don’t know—” 

“Mother would want you to stay.” Your elder sister leans forward, as you witness the beauty of her ribbon silver hair up close. “I want you to stay. It’s been too long, I’ve missed you. Aemond misses you—“

“Aemond.” You repeat, sharply, each syllable weighted with spite. Your expression darkened, the emotions inside you shifting to a cold, quiet rage. “After all these years, he does not come to see me come home. Not even a word from our mother or Cole.” The words tasted like ash on your tongue, heavy with the silence that built between your twin.

Helaena, unfazed by your tone, leans in even closer, her voice faint. “That is what he does.” she said simply, her lilac orbs meeting yours with understanding. “Aemond is… who he is.”

“And you say he misses me…?” The words left your mouth with sharpness that even surprised you, your voice laced with disbelief and frustration.

“I know you are upset, sister,” The Queen reached out to grab your wrist, the one holding the teapot topper as if to calm the storm brewing in your head. Her touch was gentle, yet firm, the kind of protective care only a mother could offer. It was the same tenderness she had to her own children, an unwavering love. “But believe me, Aemond would’ve been there for you… It’s just… He’s not himself lately.” 

“Rook’s Rest,” The name falling from your lips with weight of its own. The rumors had reached you, whispered among the soldiers and your uncle’s counsel. They spoke of things that had been kept hidden, too raw and dangerous to put into words. “He was there,” The realization creeping up your spine like an icy chill. You had tried to be discreet, seen enough in the faces of the men who had returned from that place, the devastation in their eyes, the scars that would never heal. “Did he… Was he there?” 

Helaena’s silence spoke volume. The Queen hesitated, her expression flickering between you and her thoughts. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she nodded, the tension in her jaw was apparent as she unclenched her teeth, the words coming out strained. “He almost killed Aegon.” 

The silent recollection of your brother’s condition, his broken legs and half burnt face. The weight of it crushed you in a way words couldn’t describe. You had sworn to avenge, promised yourself that you would hunt down whoever was responsible. It was Aemond. Him. Your other half. The brother you had once shared everything with, now the source of your deepest grief. 

For a while, you felt like a child again, small and helpless, standing in the shadow of things you could not control. The memories flooded back, the days your brother claimed Vhagar, the dragon that should have been Laena’s daughters, a move that had shaken your family to the core. You had been in Oldtown by then, unaware of the unfolding storm, but a raven arrived with the news that made your blood run cold. You knew, even from miles away, that Aemond had done something that could not be undone. 

As a result, he lost an eye. You could imagine it vividly, the moment when his world – your world changed forever. From a distance, you were devastated. But there was no room for grief, no time to mourn. All you could do was watch, helpless as everything you once knew spiraled further away. The cold empathy you felt in the pit of your stomach couldn’t be expressed, instead it festered, twisting inside you like a wound that never healed. 

You were never a part of the war your family had started, yet here you were, caught between duty and the chaos they created. And now, with Aegon, weak and broken, you couldn’t help but worry for Aemond, about his ambition, about the hunger in him that only grew since your separation. It had been long overdue. The moment you would have to face the One-Eyed Prince. But you wondered, would he still look at you with the same sentiments or stare at you coldly for how absent you’ve been?  

The fleeting hours of your restless dreams had long since faded. As the bright sunrise bathed the room in soft light, you shared breakfast with your uncle and your mother. Helaena, however, had chosen to eat in her room, not wanting to disrupt the delicate reunion between the Dowager Queen and her brother. You had insisted on staying with her, but she had quietly declined, offering a gentle pat to your shoulder. Her gaze lingered on you, full of unspoken concern, a clear hint of worry for your restless sleep. How did she know? You had asked once, but Helaena wouldn’t say a word. 

“You’re thinking about him,” she said, softly, noticing your hesitation. You didn’t flinch or give a nervous sigh. You simply said nothing, your body frozen for a moment before you hummed in response.

“I never realized how long it’s been… until I saw you. How different you look,” you murmured, distractedly tracing the lines of your palm. You shifted slightly in your stance, and Helaena mirrored you, her head leaning closer into your personal space.  

She smelt of lavender and poppy – Helaena always did. 

“Talk to him.” she urged, her voice quiet but insistent. 

You pondered as you walked, your mind racing with thoughts of how to approach Aemond, while your heart thudded in your chest, refusing to be ignored. As you made your way down to the Red Keep, you realized that your mother and uncle had long since finished breakfast. Gwayne was preparing for another march with Cole, and Alicent had slipped away, offering you a sympathetic smile as she excused herself from the table. For once, you found yourself leaving with your uncle to a grand feast set for twenty – but your appetite had long since vanished.

“I trust you are well acquainted with the place?” he teased, his voice light with a playful edge. With no one else in the room except for passing maids, you let out a soft chuckle.

“My early childhood was here,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the half-full glass of wine in your hand. “Everything feels the same.” 

“Good to know nothing has changed,” Gwayne muttered with a dramatic sigh, shoveling tart in his mouth. 

“But I’ve changed,” you said, lifting your glass to the light. The sun streamed through the window, casting a red hue over the liquid that shimmered like a blood moon. “I don’t belong here anymore.” You could feel the eyes of lords and ladies as you passed by strangers and familiar faces alike, each gaze heavy with contempt. They looked at you as if you no longer had the right to be here, as if this place, once your home, no longer welcomed you.

Gwayne’s voice cut through your thoughts. “That doesn’t change your place here,” he said, firmly, studying your face as you rubbed the tension from your brow. “The lords of Westeros are nothing but greedy old men. They should not concern you.” 

You know he was right. You were more than they thought, more than the whispers and the cold stares. You were still the daughter of the late king, and that commanded respect, no matter how they looked at you.

Your gaze lifted, a small smile curling on your lips as you beamed at your uncle. “You’re right.” 

“You have every right to be here, sweet niece.” he said, rising from his seat and stepping toward you. His hand gently brushed through your hair, and his auburn eyes, filled with empathetic warmth, offered you quiet comfort. “Your brother will be here in a few days.”

“Ah,” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a fleeting moment of joy. Daeron, your beloved brother, would join the battle alongside you. You had missed his sharp wit and clever nature more than you cared to admit. The bond you shared was unbreakable, he was the one you had confided in, the one with whom you had bedtime stories in your childhood. You’d watched him grow, maturing into a young man with a fierce spirit. Together, you’d flown with Blood Moon, him with his passion for adventure, and you with your love for literature. You couldn’t help but smile wishfully. “I’m sure he terribly misses me.” 

This time, the knight laughs, a soft, knowing sound, as he gives the back of your chair a light, affectionate pat. “He’ll be challenging every lord and knight that would ever look down on you.” 

The moment it happened, a hollow emptiness settled within you. In that vulnerable space, you sought solace, mediating in silence as the clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Beneath the sacred boughs of the Godswood, you sat with a quiet sense of divinity and pride. The place was often sought by others, but you claimed it for yourself, a refuge where you could empty your mind. Your arrival was gentle, unhurried. You moved with patience, your steps slow as you approached the great roots of the tree, stepping into its cool shade. The tree itself was majestic – its crimson leaves a remainder of autumn’s embrace. One leaf detached from a high branch, falling gracefully through the air. Without thinking, your hands reached out, catching it as it floated toward the Earth, landing perfectly into your palm. 

And then, he appeared. 

“Sister,” came his voice, unmistakable, sending a chill down your spine. The sound of it stirred something deep within you, a hunger you had tried to quell. You felt a shiver ripple through  you, desperately resisting the urge to show any excitement at his sudden presence. It had long been so long, and after all the time you spent in King’s Landing, Aemond chose now, of all moments to seek you out? “It’s been ages since we’ve been given your presence.” he remarked, his tone sharp, almost teasing.

You turn to face him, noting the neutral timber of his voice. Your brother, he’s changed. His posture was poised, his features more refined. The years had shaped him, as you had expected. He was no longer the boy who cried for a dragon, but the man who had claimed Vhagar – the Queen of Dragons, the largest beast to ever soar across the Seven Kingdoms during Aegon’s Conquest. A small part of you wondered if he might look at you the same way. You, too, had changed. Gone was the mischievous girl who caused trouble for your mother to clean up. Now, you were a woman – grown, poised, and more refined than ever.

You give a curt nod. “Aemond.” 

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, as if unsure how to read the shift in your demeanor. His arms crossed behind his back as he stepped closer. Dressed in obsidian leather from head to toe, a dagger sheath resting at his hip, he presented himself like a predator. His eye patch sat comfortably over his face, and his silvery hair flowed straight and silken, like the velvet fabrics of Highgarden.

“I thought you’d forgotten this place.” He closed the distance between you. Most people would have stepped back when he approached, but you stood firm. There was no fear in your gaze, only a subtle scowl – the one he would know all too well. “Do you remember the stories we used to tell here?” Aemond’s tone shifted, growing softer, almost nostalgic. “Before you drove us apart?” 

Oh. His tone is sharp, reflecting the past you both left behind, laced with a hint of nostalgia. He prowls closer, as if waiting for some retributive excuse, a justification that might ease the tension between you.  

Yet you respond with a mixture of skepticism and offense. “I haven’t forgotten this place.” you say, your voice steady, but your glance betrays a moment of vulnerability, tinged with grief. "It holds memories — both good and bad." The weight of those memories presses on you, the remnants of a shared past that broke the moment you stepped away from King’s Landing. You had left him behind, left him to dwindle with your mother and siblings, while you sought something else, something that still stirs beneath the surface, unresolved, as it had been the day you left. “Do you think I have forgotten you?” 

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the years and emotions that separate you now. The One-Eyed Prince halts as if he lays caught red-handed.  But he quickly recovers, regaining his rigid posture. “You left, sister. You chose Oldtown over your family.” he says, bitterness lacing his words.

“Only because I had to,” you retort, knowing it was a weak excuse with the way your frustration was bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t abandon you.”

You were pleading at this moment, the tone of your voice meek and growing softer. However his silence was deafening, thickening the tension like a storm cloud. “I was left here alone.” Aemond says, his voice strained. “While you were away, I had to earn my place. We were once one, yet it was you who separated us. You think I wanted to be alone?” 

The silence stretched between you, immeasurable and heavy with unspoken grievances. Memories flooded back into your mind — shared laughter, sibling quarrels, late night sneakouts to the Godswood, the bond you once had was failing. You wanted to berate his discretion, to defend your choice and consequences but the weight of his gaze pulls at you. The subtle yearning you both missed for years, miles apart from Oldtown to Kings Landing. Even as a child, you felt the odd coincidence, always finding Aemond’s stare back to yours. The Blood of the Dragon ran thick, weaving a bond neither of you could fully escape. 

“I need you, brother,” You spoke in High Valyrian for the first time in years, adopting a strange accent. It felt rushed and rigid against your tongue yet you persisted, with ease. “More than I care to admit. The tides are shifting in King's Landing. Alliances are fraying, and we cannot face this alone.” It’s a desperate plea that escapes your lips, a vulnerability that rarely shows anymore. You were never emotionally empathetic, exceptionally only with your mother and sister. But with Aemond, you had shown glimpses of the weight you carried, moments that spoke of the things you long buried. 

Your brother searches your face, his gaze searching for the truth in your eyes. His resolve falters, the harshness in his expression giving way to something softer. Your own softened expression features seem to shatter in his mind, like a broken ship in the middle of a nasty sea storm. 

“You expect me to forget?” His voice cracks, the words laced with pain. “To forgive the years of silence?” For a fleeting moment, something in him flickers – something raw, something real. You notice the brief exposure, a fleeting softness in his eye, before it vanishes, replaced by anger. But in that moment, your gaze doesn’t waver. You look at him lovingly, tracing every line and contour of his face, the old and the new. You remember the boy he once was – the faint blush of his childhood cheeks, the tousled hair that now Aegon wore as his own, the green emerald clothes that pleased your mother so.

But he was no longer that young boy. Aemond’s cheeks were more refined, the delicacy of youth replaced by a hardened appearance. His lean physique tells you he’s trained well with swords. His missing eye, his most defining feature, reminds you of the day he claimed Vhagar, while losing that very eye.  

“Don’t forget,” you said, your voice steady as you mirrored his every move, no longer concerned with the forgotten leaf on the ground. You stood just a few feet apart, your gaze fierce, unwavering. “Two heads are better than one, Aemond. Because the Blood of the Dragon flows through us.” 

The weight of your shared history hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your palms were slick with sweat, the tension of your nerves palpable. Yet you remained still, your posture resolute, like a dragon poised to strike.

Aemond finally exhales, feeling the remnants of his anger slowly dissipate like mist. “I don’t trust you.”

You step closer, merely under his gaze, close enough to make out hesitation and contempt from his momentary silence. The possibility of rebuilding what was lost was upon you, hanging on the threads of your next words. It was like a fragile thread, binding you together that guarantees loyalty is a promise. 

“Let me earn it.” Sincerity in your voice cuts through the air yet the weight of the past lingers, like a shadow. Aemond walks closer, studying you for a moment. His intensity is sharp and brittle. The air you breathe under feels electric with the tension between you evolving into something that may appear on the brink of hope. 

This time, you see intrigue under his gaze, enjoying the short moment of nostalgia happening. “You think it’s that simple?” His voice is low, laced with doubt. “Years of silence can’t be erased with just a few words.”

There is a flicker of something that eases his gaze, but it quickly vanishes. 

“I know,” You say, settling on the weight of his words like the branches of the Godswood tree behind you. “I won’t abandon you again. I swear it.” 

And like the boy you had always known, his breath hitches, the storm of emotions swirling in his one good eye. For a moment, you stand within the vicinity of each other’s comfort, relishing in the warmth of his presence, the ghost of your shared youth – the unkempt promises spirling around you, binding you in ways that were painful and profound. 

Eventually, he exhales, easing the tension in his shoulders slightly. “I don’t trust you.” The edge of his voice mellowed, hinting at a reluctant approval. Aemond’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer, as he memorizes every bit part of you. You catch onto his discreet watch and that act alone stirs your heart, creeping a faint smile on your lips. As he walks away, the bittersweet ache settles into your heart. Your promise hangs in the air, intertwining with the silhouettes of your former younger selves. Though it feels uncertain, you know that the Blood of the Dragon runes through you both, that could potentially mend the distance between you.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Reunions Embrace ~ HYJ

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

GENRE: idol!AU, established relationships, SMUT MINORS DNI, blow job, unprotected sex, reader taking care of the prince as deserved,

PAIRING: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The moment Hyunjin stepped into the house, a sense of tranquillity washed over him, filling every corner of his being with a comforting embrace. The home had been completely transformed since he left as if his absence had somehow imbued it with an even greater sense of warmth and homeliness. 

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of evening light filtering through the blinds, it felt like peace compared to the bus he'd been cramped on for months. The coffee table had a vase of fresh cut flowers placed in them, so fresh he could smell them from the doorway and his body began to relax completely but the one thing putting him into a complete state of relaxation was the smell of cooking. Not just any cooking but Hyunjin's favourite meal that was greeting him, instantly warming his heart as he went toward the kitchen in the hunt for you.

In the kitchen, he found you standing by the stove, your sleeves rolled up as you tended to a pot simmering on the stove. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of his favourite meal, a comforting blend of spices and flavours that instantly transported him back to simpler times.

"Hey, you're home!" You exclaimed, rushing over toward him and instantly wrapping your arms around him, his arms snaking around your waist as his head rested on the top of your head. This was what peace was, this was everything he ever wanted in life. To come home to you and this hug. He held you close, feeling the warmth of your embrace chase away the lingering chill of his travels. 

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, his voice filled with longing and affection. It had been far too long since he'd gotten to hold you and he wasn't planning on letting go so easily. You smiled to yourself, letting out a happy sigh as you snuggled your head into his chest. 

The two of you spoke almost every day whenever you could but it was hard when his schedule kept him so busy on tour, but you understood the risks of dating someone in his career and you accepted them. As long as he continued to come home to you, that was all you cared about. 

Slowly pulling back you looked up at him with eyes that sparkled with joy and love, you were almost afraid if you looked away he would suddenly disappear. 

"I've missed you too," You replied softly, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, it had grown so much longer since the last time you saw him and you knew it was going to be irritating him sooner or later.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for having you in his life. Despite the distance and the challenges you faced, you were always there for him, supporting him and loving him unconditionally. No matter the rumour going around you stood by him, waiting for him to tell you his side before ever passing judgement. Always there to care for him whenever he was sick or overworked, you were always there and he couldn't have been more grateful for you.

"I can't believe you cooked my favourite meal," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"You really are the best." He kissed the top of your head as you grinned up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. 

"Well, I wanted to do something special for you," You said, your voice filled with warmth as you slowly went back over to the stove to make sure everything was cooking nicely. You had a whole night planned out for him and it wasn't going to end with just the meal,

"Welcome home, my love." You whispered as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder while he stood with you and you cooked. And at that moment, as you stood there together, surrounded by the aroma of his favourite meal and the love that filled the air, he knew that no matter where his travels took him, he would always find his way back to you.

After savouring every last bite of the meal you'd lovingly prepared, he felt a warmth spread through his body unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't just the delicious flavours that filled him with contentment, but the knowledge that each bite was a tangible expression of your love and devotion. As he leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. The worries and stresses of his time away seemed to melt away with each mouthful, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for the love of his life sitting across from him.

"Wait right here," You whispered, your voice soft and soothing, you walked over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and smirking to yourself.

"I have something special planned for you." Without giving him a chance to respond he watched as you disappeared from the room, anticipation fluttering in his chest like a butterfly's wings. 

Moments later, you returned, your arms cradling a stack of fluffy towels and a bottle of his favourite bath oil. 

"Come with me," You said, your voice a gentle melody that beckoned him to follow, almost like a siren's call and he was up in a flash, following after you in silence.

Together, you ascended the stairs, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. As you reached the landing, you led him into the bathroom, where the air was heavy with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.

With tender care, you began to fill the tub with warm water, the sound of rushing water a soothing symphony that filled the room. Once the tub was filled to the brim, you poured in a generous amount of bath oil, the fragrant aroma enveloping you both in a cloud of tranquillity.

"You don't have to do all of this for me," He mumbled a little, guilt weighing on him as he thought about all of the efforts you were going through for him. He'd been away so long and yet you were still doing all of this for him and a small part of him felt as though he should be the one to do this for you. 

"I want to, I missed you and want to take good care of you," You told him as you glanced over your shoulder, reading the look on his face easily and sending him a reassuring smile.

"But-"

"No buts, I want to do this and I will," You said sternly, making him chuckle a little as you stood up and turned to face him. 

"Now, it's time to relax." You whispered as you kissed him softly, slowly peeling off his clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket inside the room. Continuing to strip him and kiss his naked shoulders as you did so, smiling happily as you watched him sink further into relaxation.

Hyunjin stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm embrace of the water with a contented sigh. You knelt beside him, dipping a soft sponge into the water and beginning to wash away the cares of the day with gentle strokes. As you washed him, your touch was tender and loving, each caress a silent promise of your devotion. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself fully to the sensation of her hands moving over his skin, washing away the tension and fatigue that had accumulated during his time away.

"This is nice," He whispered, his head leaning back against the tub as you continued to wash his body gently. It was the first time touching him in a long time but it wasn't sexual, it was relaxing. 

"Lean forward." You whisper in his head, once he does you begin to run the sponge down his back, smiling as your boyfriend fully relaxes for you. 

"Thank you," He whispered as he leaned back against the tub, his eyes finding yours and smiling in a completely relaxed state. There was no place he'd rather be right now than right here,

"Anytime baby," You giggled a little, kissing him softly as he slipped further into the water, his eyes fluttering shut as you smiled leaning back against the tub enjoying him back with you. 

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your soft lips wrap around his hard length, he couldn't remember how you'd gotten to the bedroom but he didn't care, he was in complete bliss. Your eyes flirt with him as you sink lower onto his shaft and back up again, his moans filling the room as his eyes flutter shut,

"F-Fuck I missed this," He mumbles, his hands clutching onto the sheets as you run your tongue up and down his length, using your hand to stroke what your mouth can't reach as your head bobs up and down, tracing the veins in his skin as you suck. 

"Just like that," He moans, his gaze now on you as you looked up at him, humming around him as you continue to suck him deeper, his praises filling you with determination. You wanted this to be the perfect welcome home for him and you were going to do anything for that to happen.

"Ffuuck," He hisses, your pace quickening as you suck him and stroke him faster, pulling off him to spit on the tip before taking him back into your mouth and to the back of your throat again,

"S-Stop...S-Stop," He begs as you pull back, afraid you'd done something wrong but he brought you onto his lap, kissing you deeply and hungrily as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I want to come with you," He whispered as he lined himself up at your entrance, your hands making their way into his hair and you bit down on his lip softly. 

"I need you" You whimpered, as he slowly pushed into you, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch, it had been far too long since you'd been with one another but you needed this.

"Shit, Yn, you're so fucking tight," He groans, his head rolling back against the bed as you sank further onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his length as you breathed out a happy sigh,

"You're too big," You mumbled to him, rolling your hips slowly moving your hips in slow circles as his hands clutched onto your hips, there was no way he was going to last long, not when it had been too long since you were last together,

"Y-Yn," He stuttered out, he wanted this to be good for you too but he knew there was no chance he could make you come like this, not with how needy he was,

"This is all about you tonight," You breathed out, biting his ear softly as you slowly began to raise your hips only to let them fall again, rocking back and forth on him as he moaned your name out loudly. Your breathing went faster and shallower as you moved your hips faster on him, his hands digging into your hips as he groaned squeezing his eyes shut and trying to list off baseball players to distract him,

"Come for me baby, I missed you." You moaned out, looking down at him as he whimpered, his hips bucking wildly as he couldn't fight it anymore, the urge to come taking over him as he bucked into you, your pussy clenching around him as he thrusts harder and faster into you. Cumming suddenly as he whimpered your name out, sweat dripping down his forehead as you continued to ride him through his high.

"Maybe I should have made you bathe last," You teased, kissing his lips softly as he whimpered, unable to find words to speak at that moment.

"I'll run a fresh one and I'll join you this time," You told him, slowly getting up and smirking as you made your way to the bathroom, your boyfriend's eyes on you the whole time.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

What we know about each Yellowjackets character’s life before the plane crash

Shauna

Not a lot is known about Shauna’s childhood, but it definitely seems like she had an estranged relationship with her parents. It is confirmed that Shauna’s parents divorced when she was younger. Jackie mentioned that Shauna lied to her about her father’s sudden absence, saying that he was traveling a lot because he had become the new president of Hello Kitty (aww Shauna). This suggests that, after the divorce, Shauna had little to no contact with her father. Additionally, Shauna never even mentions her parents in the adult timeline, which may imply that she is no longer on speaking terms with either of them. Further emphasizing this distance is her childhood bedroom, which appeared to be in an attic. Whether she chose to sleep there or not, this detail speaks volumes about how separated or neglected she felt by her family.

Shauna had been best friends with Jackie since grade school, although their relationship was strained by jealousy and Shauna's feeling of living in Jackie's shadow. Nevertheless, their love for each other ran DEEP (a little too deep). Shauna’s jealousy of Jackie led her to lose her virginity to Jeff, Jackie’s long-term boyfriend, behind Jackie’s back. The night before the crash, Jeff and Shauna slept together again and she became pregnant with his child.

We also know that Shauna was a straight-A student and received admission to Brown University right before the crash, and she was a very good soccer player (she was very fast according to Coach Martinez!) even though she apparently didn’t even like soccer.

Shauna was most likely a Defensive Midfielder on the soccer field, given that her jersey number was 6. This means that she was in charge of acting as a shield in the midfield, breaking up attacks, covering teammates, and intercepting passes.

Jackie

Jackie appears to have come from a wealthy family given how massive her house was (complete with those fancy mansion columns). She was an only child and lived with both her parents. Jackie’s parents seemed to put a lot of pressure on her to be perfect, and we see that they tend to brag about her achievements (even after her death), which highlights their high expectations for Jackie’s success. Jackie’s mother may have had a dependence on prescription drugs, as she mentioned that her mom was on “ten different kind of downers”, some of which (Valium) Jackie stole to fall asleep on the plane.

Jackie was popular in school and was the captain of the Yellowjackets soccer team (more expectations that she had to live up to). She was said to possess great influence over others due to her natural leadership skills and magnetism. She had been dating Jeff since freshman year, although she mentioned having broken up with him multiple times, so it seems like it was a tumultuous relationship. She refused to have sex with him due to wanting to make losing her virginity special. Jackie planned to go to Rutgers for college and be roommates with Shauna.

We can assume Jackie was a forward/striker on the soccer field due to her jersey number: 9. This means her primary role was scoring goals.

Natalie

Out of all of the Yellowjackets characters, Natalie’s life pre-crash is explored in arguably the most detail. We learn that she came from a low-income family and lived in a small, cluttered trailer with her parents, both of whom appeared to struggle with drinking and drug problems. Her father worked a blue-collar job, possibly as a mechanic, given the (tire?) patch on his work shirt, while her mother, Vera, seemed to stay at home, often drinking and sleeping throughout the day. We also know that Nat’s father was physically and verbally abusive to her and her mother.

Nat’s best friend was Kevyn Tan, whom we first see her with when she is 14 or 15 years-old, although it seems like they had been friends for a while before that. Kevyn had a significant crush on Natalie, which she was unaware of. When Nat was 14 or 15, her father found Kevyn in her bedroom one day and berated Nat, thinking that they were sleeping together. This escalated into her father beating her mother, prompting Natalie to grab a gun and attempt to shoot him. However, she forgot to take off the safety. Her father then took the gun but accidentally shot himself in the head after tripping on the stairs.

It is strongly implied that Natalie's mother blamed her for his death, as she makes comments in the present day like, "You never know what you have until it gets ripped away from you." This suggests that Natalie had a cold and distant relationship with her mother.

It appears that Nat spent much of her high school years experimenting with drugs and sex to cope with her guilt and had gained a reputation at her school for being sexually promiscuous and a “burnout.”

Somehow she ended up playing soccer, and she was likely a right midfielder or winger given her jersey number: 7. This means she was in charge of attacks in the midfield and passing the ball to other teammates closer to the goal.

And one more interesting detail: Nat was definitely a hardcore feminist in her teen years, as we can see riot grrrl posters all over her childhood bedroom walls.

Travis

We get very little information about Travis’s life before the crash, but we know that he lived with his father, Bill, his little brother, Javi, and his mother. Travis stated that his father was “a shit dad” who “didn’t even like him,” so he clearly did not have a good relationship with his father. Additionally, before leaving to get on the plane, we see that Coach Martinez leaned in to attempt to give his wife a kiss goodbye, but she turned away and appeared stiff. Travis rolled his eyes at this. My guess is that Coach Martinez cheated on his wife and Travis knew about it. His parents’ relationship was strained after the affair but they stayed together for the kids, and Travis resented his father for it. Just definitely seems like the context behind that scene.

Travis seemed to hold some resentment towards Javi as well given his harsh treatment of him even before the crash, perhaps because he received more attention and care from their father. We also know that Travis was bullied since 7th grade after he had spinal fusion surgery and Bobby Farleigh made up the rumor that he got one of his ribs removed to perform…certain acts on himself, earning him the nickname “Flex.”

Van

We got a brief scene in the pilot episode of Van’s home life. Like Natalie, Van also appears to have come from a low-income home. Van’s father was likely not involved in her life, as Van’s mom seemed to be the only option when she needed a ride to the airport and her father was never mentioned. Van’s mother was an alcoholic, as she was laying passed out on the couch and Van had to slap her to wake her up. It seems like Van had to take on a parental role with her mother and likely had to raise herself for the most part. In the adult timeline, Tai mentions that Van had always had a strained relationship with her mother.

Van went to New York City once for her 7th birthday and wanted to do the carriage ride in Central Park, but she was taken to see Cats instead. She dreamed of going back to NYC and doing the carriage ride ever since.

Van is the Yellowjackets’s goalie, and it seems like she and her teammate Taissa had a romantic relationship before the crash (or were at least flirting a lot).

Lottie

Lottie’s pre-crash life gets explored in a little more detail. Lottie grew up in a very wealthy family. Her father, Malcolm, is a businessman who seemed very strict and controlling. Lottie’s mother, Emilia, seemed more soft and understanding of Lottie’s potential gifts. We see that, as a child, Lottie often experienced strange visions, including a time in which she started to scream in the backseat of the car while her parents were at a red light, which ended up preventing them from getting into a car crash when the light turned green. It is implied that Lottie experienced these visions often. Lottie’s parents argued over the nature of these visions, with Malcolm saying that Lottie had psychological issues and needed to be fixed, while Emilia argued that Lottie had a gift for seeing the future. Lottie was placed on medication for schizophrenia, and she is seen taking this medication the morning of the crash.

Lottie had a disconnected relationship with her father. It seems like he never understood her and neglected her as a result. It is implied that he wasn’t around much due to his work. Lottie said that her dad paying for the private plane to take the Yellowjackets to Nationals was “basically his only form of parenting.”

Lottie, according to Coach Martinez, is a talented soccer player with great footwork. Lottie is likely a Defender on the soccer field, given her jersey number: 5. This means she was in charge of keeping the other team from scoring goals and stopping attacks.

Taissa

Tai appears to have come from the most well-adjusted household among the group. She lived in a nice home with both of her parents, who seemed supportive, as shown in their brief interaction in the pilot episode. Her mother offered to drive her to the airport, while her father was cooking breakfast. He reminded Tai that "the most important thing is to have fun," which conveyed a sense of care and encouragement. Despite this, Tai was always intensely focused on success and hard work. As a star player on the soccer team, she was implied to be the best player, according to Coach Martinez.

When Tai was little, her grandmother got sick and Tai often visited her on her death bed. Not long before her grandmother’s death, she saw a “man with no eyes” in the mirror of the bedroom and began to scream. Tai saw this man, as well, and also began to scream. At her grandmother’s open-casket funeral, Tai noticed that her grandmother’s eyes were missing.

Tai was likely in a romantic relationship with Van before the crash.

According to the Pilot episode script, Taissa is the star midfielder of the Yellowjackets. Her jersey number is 8, also supporting that she is a Central Midfielder, which is often considered to be the most difficult position on the field. This means she acted as a link between defense and attack in the midfield.

Misty

Misty was clearly a social outcast before the crash. She was bullied throughout her school years. One classmate, Becky, frequently targeted her with prank phone calls, spreading rumors and mocking her with her friends. During one of these calls, Misty quoted Plato, hinting at her intelligence and academic inclinations. Misty clearly loved learning and equipping herself with knowledge, as she obsessively took Red Cross babysitting classes, had a great deal of medical skills, and paid close attention in Coach Ben’s health classes. Misty always craved the feeling of being useful and needed by her peers. This was most apparent in the scene where Allie broke her leg—Misty was the first to spring into action, trying to help, although her attempt was unsuccessful.

We can also see that Misty may have always had some sociopathic tendencies, as she is seen watching a rat struggle and drown in a pool with no emotion on her face the morning before the crash.

As the Yellowjackets’ equipment manager, Misty didn’t play soccer herself but still found a way to be involved with the team. Her responsibilities likely included maintaining equipment, ordering new gear, and issuing uniforms to the players.

[propertyofwicked]

you're gonna go far - ln

♬ so pack up your car, put a hand on your heart. say whatever you feel, be wherever you are...

warnings: angst. thats kinda it icl

masterlist the playlist

at 16, had anyone asked y/n where she saw her life now, she probably wouldn’t have expected to answer that she was still watching lando’s career in motorsport blossom into a legacy. not that she didn’t imagine him being successful, it was just hard to comprehend that the boy who fell asleep in the back of his dads car on the way back from a karting race would one day be one of the most successful formula one racers on the 21st century. the boy who wiped sweat from his forehead, his other hand shaking as he raised the flowers he held up and mumbled a quick “will you be my girlfriend?”

and when lando got his first break in racing, y/n was there, cheering the loudest, her eyes shining with pride.

at 18, the two laid together, having late-night conversations about their futures, promising to support each other no matter what. lando was progressing in his career, working closely with mclaren, y/n was looking at universities, dreaming of what she would spend the rest of her working life pursuing.

and at 20, moving into the flat had been a dream come true. lando's career with mclaren soared. he became a household name, known for his skill and charisma on and off the track. y/n was always there, cheering him on, even when she couldn't be at the races in person. and the two found solace in returning to their little flat, cooking together, being surrounded by each other in every aspect.

but at 22, she did not think that she would be sat in their home, hands tightly gripping a mug between her hands, the sun casting a golden hue that spread softly throughout the flat.

the distance between them had grown. the long hours, the constant travel, and the relentless demands of the sport started to take their toll. y/n felt it most on the nights she was alone in their flat, the silence a stark contrast to the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd. she tried to fill the void but nothing couldn't mask the loneliness that crept in.

lando's absence became more frequent. their once lively home felt emptier with each passing day. phone calls and video chats couldn't bridge the gap, and y/n found herself missing the little things - his laugh, his touch, the way he made her feel alive. she tried to stay positive, reminding herself of his dreams and the promise she had made to always support him.

the air was thick with unspoken words as they stood in the kitchen. the flat was filled with a tense silence that neither of them knew how to break - it was like this any time he came home recently. lando seemed restless, his eyes avoiding hers. finally, he broke the silence.

"i'm planning on moving to monaco," he said matter-of-factly, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth, "it's the best move for my career, to be closer to other drivers and in a better position to travel to races."

y/n felt her heart clench, a wave of numbness washing over her. she couldn’t reason with him, she didn’t want to. understanding that their relationship had been unravelling for a while. she had become an afterthought, a part of his past that didn't quite fit into his future.

"i understand," she replied softly, her voice void of emotion.

lando looked at her, his expression a mix of relief and regret. he stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulled away gently.

"it's okay," she whispered. "i know you're gonna go far. this is the best decision for you career," she said, echoing his previous statement, void of any ability to fight this.

and across the following weeks, as lando packed his things, y/n watched from a distance, feeling detached from the life they had built together. the memories of their laughter, their dreams, and their love seemed like distant echoes. she moved through the days like a ghost, mentally distanced from everything around her, unable to talk to anyone about the emptiness growing inside her.

she missed the way he would come home and wrap his arms around her, the way they would stay up late talking about their dreams. she missed the feeling of being loved. they hadn’t even discussed the break up, or the fact they had even broken up - “im moving to monaco” was a weighted sentence, a statement that had no place for her.

when the day came for lando to leave, y/n stood by the door, her eyes dry and her heart heavy. he hugged her one last time, and she held on just a moment longer, savouring the last trace of lando in her life.

"take care," she murmured, almost coldly, before stepping back and letting him go.

as the door closed behind him, y/n felt a hollow ache in her chest. she knew lando was destined for greatness, but the price had been their love. she sat down in the empty flat, the silence now a testament to what had been lost. she wandered from room to room, each corner filled with memories of a time when they had been inseparable.

their friends noticed the change in y/n, the way her laughter no longer reached her eyes, the way she seemed to be merely existing rather than living. they tried to reach out, to offer comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about the emptiness she felt. she painted smiles on her face, but inside, she was numb, unable to process the loss of the person who had been her world.

as months went by, y/n threw herself into her work, hoping to find solace in the one thing that had always been constant in her life. she worked hard, she improved, but every achievement felt hollow without lando by her side. she watched his races on tv, feeling a mix of pride and sorrow. he was going far, just as she had always known he would, but he was doing it without her.

standing on the balcony of their flat, looking out over the city they had once explored together, the lights of london stretched out before her, a reminder of the dreams they had shared. the city looked the same, the lights still cascaded through the rows of buildings, the cars still sped through the streets at all times of the day. how could she be angry? he was achieving his dreams, she was doing the same. it wasn’t fair to keep him here against his own volition.

it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t stop her from hurting, thinking about how easily he’d left her behind in search for something greater. she took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to move on, let go of the past, find a new path.

with a heavy heart, y/n too began packing up the flat, each item a reminder of the life they had built together. she carefully wrapped up the photos, the mementos of their time together, and placed them in boxes.

when the flat was finally empty, y/n stood in the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been their home. she knew it was time to close this chapter and start a new one, to find her own path, even if it meant doing it alone. as she locked the door behind her, she whispered a silent goodbye to the life they had shared, knowing that lando was destined to go far and that she had to find her own way, with or without him.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Primal Instinct - San

KINKTOBER DAY 11, REQ. BY @arki-sha

~"Hi Bia!!! I have a Werewolf San brainrot rn because I rewatched his Warriors dance cover so I'll request a Werewolf San x Human Reader.. So, San is in a rut but he doesn't want to spend it with the reader so he was deliberately avoiding her. And when the reader decided to go to San's apartment to confront him, she found out that San was in a rut and that's were the shit happens. As for the kinks, go wild with it girl. But I would like to have some size kink as well as man handling with it. Thank youuu!!!!"

pairing: werewolf!san x human fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: when you decide to confront San after days of him avoiding you, unknowingly step into the lair of a werewolf in rut, you ignite a night of uncontrollable desire and primal intensity.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: werewolf!san, san is in a rut, san is damn desperate and needy, biting, marking, predator/prey kinda feeling, making out, kissing, lots of cum, two rounds, wall sex, dinner table sex, neck holding, breast fondling, manhandling, big dick!san (obvi), some mentions of slightly bleeding marks because of his biting? ex reader's lip bleeding. unprotected (boooo wrap up irl!), completely consensual, unedited, might edit later, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: THIS IS TASTYYYY I LOVE ME SOME NEEDY DESPERATE SAN OMFG. He's so rough but needy and wjiebicjwicjshx I'm going insane. My love, I took EXTRA care of this fic and I hope it's up to your expectations ! Personally I lvoed writing it and I feel like I improved a lost since I first started writing here.. ☹️❤️ I love you and tysm for being one of my loyal followers until nowww 🫂💗

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The chill of autumn had started to settle in, and with it, a strange tension that had been growing in the air. You could feel it creeping into the small space you and San shared, an undercurrent that had begun subtly but now lingered like a heavy fog. The house was quieter than usual, too quiet, and it had been that way for days. You’d grown accustomed to San’s presence, his warmth and affection filling the room with a sense of home. But lately, he’d been avoiding you, pulling away in ways that left you confused and worried.

San had always been open with you, even about the most complex aspects of his life as a werewolf. You had long since come to terms with it—his otherworldly strength, his heightened senses, the way his eyes sometimes glowed in the moonlight with a predatory gleam. These were parts of him you accepted, parts you even loved. Your relationship had always been built on trust and understanding, and San had always taken extra care to make sure you felt safe, no matter what side of him you were dealing with.

But now, for the past few days, something had changed. He had started to distance himself, keeping to his room and avoiding any close contact. At first, you thought maybe he was just going through something personal, something he needed time to work through on his own. But as the days dragged on, the silence between you two became unbearable.

It wasn’t like him. San was affectionate, constantly pulling you close, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead in moments when words weren't needed. The absence of his touch had left a cold emptiness in its wake. You missed the way he’d look at you, his gaze filled with warmth and a deep, protective love. Now, he barely looked at you at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, mingled with concern. What could be so bad that he had to lock himself away from you? What was he hiding?

Today, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had knocked on his door earlier, only for San to mutter something about being busy. But that excuse wasn’t going to work again. You stood outside his door now, hesitating for only a second before deciding that you needed answers. You loved San too much to let this strange distance go on any longer. If something was wrong, you deserved to know what it was.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob before you pushed it open, the soft creak of the wood breaking the silence in the hallway. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight to keep the outside world at bay. San was sitting at the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, his body rigid with tension. His sharp features were drawn tight, and even from where you stood, you could sense the storm brewing inside him.

“San?” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something wild passed through his eyes before he quickly looked away, running a hand through his messy hair. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, strained.

You frowned, your concern deepening. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. I just want to know what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

San’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, the muscles in his arms tensing. “It’s not you,” he muttered, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “It’s me. You need to leave, *now*.”

His words stung, but more than that, they confused you. This wasn’t like him at all. You took a tentative step closer, refusing to back down. “I’m not going anywhere, San. Please, talk to me. Whatever this is, we can figure it out together.”

He stood up abruptly, turning away from you and facing the wall. His shoulders were broad, his back muscles taut under his shirt, as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. “You don’t understand,” he ground out. “I’m not safe to be around right now. I’m in a rut, Y/N. The first real one I’ve had in years.”

Your eyes widened in understanding as his words sank in. You had heard about werewolf ruts before, but this was the first time you were facing it with San. A rut was intense, primal, a period when his instincts were heightened to the point of losing control. San had always been careful about managing his shifts and moods around you, but this… this was something new, something that terrified him more than anything else.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him despite the warning in his voice.

He nodded, still facing away from you. “I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t trust myself right now.”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt. He was trying to protect you from himself, but in doing so, he was shutting you out. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to face this alone.

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his back. He flinched at the touch, but he didn’t move away. Encouraged by the fact that he hadn’t pushed you aside, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“I trust you,” you whispered against his back. “I know you won’t hurt me, San.”

His body trembled slightly under your touch, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself, as if battling between the need to protect you and the overwhelming desire that was consuming him. Slowly, he turned around in your arms, his dark, intense eyes locking with yours. “I’m not sure if I can control myself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm, almost burning under your touch. “I trust you,” you repeated softly, looking into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

San let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to grip your arms, as if grounding himself in your presence. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was hot and uneven against your lips, and you could feel the restraint in every muscle of his body.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a desperate whisper.

Before you could say anything more, his lips were on yours, the kiss deep and intense, as if he were pouring all of his pent-up emotions into it. It was raw, needy, but there was still tenderness in the way his hands cradled your face, as if even now, he was holding back for your sake.

You kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The tension between you melted away as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both familiar and new. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, but even in the heat of the moment, you could feel him trying to be gentle, trying to keep himself in check.

The kiss lingered, slow and passionate, until finally, San pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours again. His breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with unspoken emotions, but the storm inside him seemed to have calmed, at least for now.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of gratitude.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I told you. I’m not afraid of you.”

San’s breath was ragged, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder as he fought to control the storm raging inside him. You felt his hands tremble against your waist, his claws teasing the edge of his control but never quite emerging. His body was all heat and tension, his breath coming faster now, more uneven.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he let his hands drift down your sides, fingers brushing along the fabric of your clothes. He gripped the hem of your shirt, his touch delicate, as if the very act of undressing you would shatter whatever fragile restraint he had left. His fingers dug into the fabric for a moment, and you felt the tension in him snap for just a second. He exhaled sharply, as if trying to talk himself out of it.

“I... I can’t,” San muttered, though his actions betrayed his words. His voice was low, raw, filled with a desperation that echoed his struggle. His hands, though trembling, began lifting your shirt, slowly revealing the skin beneath. His breath hitched at the sight, and you could feel his body tensing as his instincts warred with his will. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, his voice thick with need, but his hands didn’t stop.

He pulled the fabric over your head with a swift motion, his touch growing bolder now, more confident. You watched as his eyes darkened further, the wolf in him creeping closer to the surface. His fingers grazed your bare skin, tracing the lines of your collarbone, down your arms, and across your waist with reverence. Every touch was electric, sending shivers through your body as he explored every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re making this so hard for me,” San growled, his voice deep and unsteady. His hands moved lower, fingers ghosting over the waistband of your pants, lingering there for a moment as he struggled to hold back. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched tight. “I should stop. I should walk away.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, he tugged at the waistband, pulling your pants down in one rough motion, the fabric slipping from your body effortlessly. His breath caught in his throat, and he took a step back, looking at you as though you were something both sacred and dangerous. His hands reached out, but they hesitated, hovering just inches from your skin, the restraint in his body trembling like a wire about to snap.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like... to want something so badly but know you can’t... you *shouldn’t*...” His eyes traveled over you, wild and full of conflict, as his fingers finally found your skin again. His touch was slow, lingering, as though he was trying to savor the feel of you beneath his hands before he lost all control.

His hands were everywhere at once—tracing the line of your spine, sweeping across your waist, exploring the curve of your hip, and back up to your chest. His palms were rough but gentle, his fingers trembling as they brushed your bare skin with reverence, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His breath was hot against your neck as he leaned in, his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel every rise and fall of his breathing, erratic and wild.

“I’m losing it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His forehead pressed against your collarbone, his lips brushing there, as if he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. “I’m trying to hold back, but... I can’t, I can’t.” His words were almost a growl now, deep and rough as his hands gripped you tighter, his claws just barely grazing your skin.

You shivered as his lips traveled down the side of your neck, hot and desperate, his breath shaky as he fought to keep himself from slipping completely. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the lines of your body with such intensity that it felt as though he was memorizing every detail.

“I need to feel you,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw desire. His touch became more urgent, his hands pressing harder against your skin, his lips moving faster, more erratically. The restraint in him was slipping, unraveling with each passing second. His hands found your shoulders, then your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance between you any longer.

He let out a low growl, his breath coming fast and ragged now. “I’m losing control,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were wild, dark with unrestrained emotion, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled against you.

And then, with a sharp inhale, something broke in him.

San’s hands gripped your waist with a sudden fierceness, pulling you tightly against him, his body pressing into yours with a desperate, wild energy. His mouth found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, his restraint shattered completely. His hands roamed your body, no longer holding back, no longer gentle. He was wild, untamed, and you were swept up in the force of it, your body responding to his every touch as though you were made for this moment.

He growled against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. "I can't stop," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with need. His hands gripped you tighter, as if the sensation of your skin beneath his fingers was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. "I can't hold back anymore."

And he didn’t.

--

San pushed you to the wall behind you, one hand behind your head to not hit it to the hard material. He leaned in for a kiss, his teeth grazing against your lower lip, biting it from time to time. He made it bleed, going even more insane about the taste of your lips.

"P-please... don't hold back" you said, barely above a whisper. He took your words seriously and put your hands above your head with his right hand, while his left hand took your panties off, threw them away and flew right back to your thighs. His sharp nails dug into your flesh, leaving soft, red marks all over.

"P-please forgive me.. if you get hurt by me." San said and moved his hand between your thighs, impatiently and softly hovering his fingers around, looking in your eyes. He was asking for permission. You moved yourself above his fingers and slowly let yourself down on his then, quietly moaning at his fingers finally inside you. His hands were huge, being a werewolf... even two of his fingers were stretching you the fuck out, tears forming in your eyes.

"San, voice low, almost a growl, "You have no damn idea how hard it's been to hold back, don't you?"

"San.." you breathed out, his fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly.

San’s eyes flash with wild intensity. In an instant, his lips crash against yours, a rough, hungry kiss that leaves you breathless, tongues finding it's way and tasting every corner of your mouth.

Breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your neck, "You’re driving me insane... every part of me just wants to take you, make you mine in ways you can’t even imagine." He stopped finger-fucking you for a moment, breath hitched and your legs already trembling.

"I want all of you.. need to feel you, taste you.." he breathed out in an almost-primal tone, like you were his prey and you were his to go after.

"San, please.." you pleaded out, back softly arching against the wall, in search of any friction between your cunt and his fingers that were still resting.

"I see that you're... asking for my touch, hm?" San whined, in an almost desperate tone, basically exposing himself through his words. He was the one that wanted, needed you so bad.

"Y-yes.."

In an instant, he raised your leg up, placing it onto his hip. "I’m out of my mind with how much I need you. You'll take me right here—no hesitation, no waiting." he said as he raised your leg a bit, left your hands alone and fully thrusted in you, lubed up from your own arousal. He was fucking you against the wall, your hands reaching for his shoulder, holding on for dear life. Your legs were trembling, his long and girthy cock stretching you good as it always did.

"Fuck.. you feel so good.." he said as he rammed into you wildly, touching every sweet spot of yours, the friction overwhelming you. His lips went wandering around, marking you everywhere. He left kisses and bites all over your neck and collarbones, tasting your sweet flesh.

"Yes babe.. get it all out-" you muffled, but his lips found their way to yours, engaging in a rough, sloppy and messy kiss.

His nails dug into your flesh, his primal-like behavior sending you over the edge. Your back arched against the wall, San's hand finding it's way to the back of your neck. He held you close and still, as he thrusted in you a few times and came undone, filling you up to the brim. As you felt yourself get filled by his load, he fucked you through his high and his hand found it's way to your clit, rubbing circles all around. You squirmed a few times, overstimulation surging over you and the knot in your belly became undone, soft cries and moans leaving out of your slowly rising chest.

"You feel so good.. I don't know how I've waited until now. Every second without you is torture..." he said and embraced you, his cock still inches deep inside you. He lifted you up and dropped you on the dinner table you had in the living room, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "I can't get enough of you," his lips grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. The table beneath you creaked under the weight of your bodies, the edge pressing into your back as he leaned down, kissing you deeply, hungrily, with an urgency that made your heart race.

Your legs tightened around him, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. He let out a low, guttural sound of pleasure as he thrust into you, slow but deliberate, each movement intensifying the ache inside you. His fingers trailed up your sides, all the way up to your bare skin, fondling with your breasts, holding onto them.

With a wicked smile, he bit his lip, his eyes dark with desire as he watched the way your body responded to him. The rhythm of his hips became more insistent, and the friction between you built with every motion. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, bodies perfectly in sync.

"I want to hear you," he growled softly, his voice deep and raw with need, his hand slipping between your bodies, teasing the spot that made your whole body tremble. Every touch was electric, every sensation overwhelming, as the pressure inside you built to an irresistible peak. You arched your back, surrendering to the intensity, your nails digging into his shoulders as the room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of your bodies and the undeniable connection between you.

Time seemed to blur as the world outside faded, leaving only the pulse of your heart, the sound of his ragged breaths, and the undeniable fire between you, burning hotter with every second.

His thrusts grew more urgent, deeper, as if he was chasing the same release that had your body trembling in his arms. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, his grunts mixing with your breathless moans, the tension between you building to a breaking point. His fingers worked in perfect rhythm with his hips, pushing you closer, closer, until finally, the pleasure surged through you, crashing like a wave. You cried out his name, your body arching against him, tightening around him as the intensity consumed you.

San groaned low in his throat, the sound almost primal as he felt you pulse around him, the sensation driving him over the edge. His hips bucked one last time, deep and powerful, before you felt him cum inside you, his warmth filling you as he let out a broken moan, collapsing against you. His breath was heavy in your ear, his heartbeat racing against your chest as the two of you remained locked together, still trembling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the soft sound of your shared breathing. His arms wrapped around you tightly, protectively, as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet. Gently, he shifted, pulling you into his chest, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. His touch was tender now, his rough urgency replaced by a deep care, a need to hold you close.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, full of concern as his fingers brushed through your hair, soothing you.

You nodded, still catching your breath, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you, grounding you. His hands stroked your back in lazy, comforting circles, his lips never far from your skin. He held you as if you were fragile, like he wanted to protect you from everything, even though minutes ago, the world had disappeared in the heat between you.

San slowly pulled out of you, the absence leaving you feeling both empty and completely fulfilled, as he carefully helped you sit up on the edge of the table. He kissed your lips, slow and sweet, as if he had all the time in the world. Then, without saying a word, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you over to the couch, laying you down gently before settling next to you.

He tugged a soft blanket over your bodies, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it was overwhelming. He kissed your temple, holding you tighter as you both drifted into a peaceful silence, your bodies still entwined, but now surrounded by a warmth that was so much more than just physical.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[abswhore]

just a friend final

Pairing: college!fwb!abby Anderson x reader tags:@macaroni676 @vqxen @grey-jedi12 @i02elss

A/N: this is the final part :( I’ve gain sm support I’m grateful also this isn’t proofread I’ll be going back on all the parts editing ! <3

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A month went by, and those three words continued to echo in Abby's brain . She felt the urge to contact you and make things right, to find out if you truly meant what you said. Yet, she struggled with the idea of confronting you after walking away like that. So, she decided that silence was the safest option, or at least the best choice for her.

She carried on with her life as if nothing had changed, focusing on soccer, her studies, and even finding time for jade, which brung comments from the group. Nora and Dina held her responsible for your absence from the friend group.

"You didn’t see my call? I tried calling you tree times. " Abby asked Nora as she approached the group's table in the dining hall,

"I did, but I was with y/n. You know she doesn't really like you much since you broke her heart." Nora clarified going back to her meal, causing Abby to click her tongue in annoyance.

“That’s not fair Nora.” Manny, speaking with his strong accent "You can't keep bringing this up; it's none of our business what happened with them."

The group genuinely made an effort to avoid interfering in you and Abby’s relationship , and Abby knew this. She felt as though she had caused a divide within the group. Abby understood just how much Dina and Nora valued you.

“She’s our friend.” Dina added in “ it’s kind of hard to mind our business.” 

“Whatever.” Manny mumbled sliding his headphones back over his ears .

“Okay, abs it’s been a month just tell us what happened .” Jesse suggested and Abby sent him a look throwing his hands up “or not.” 

“You or y/n won’t tell us, how bad can it be.” Ellie chimed in, Abby shook her head grabbing her backpack from beside her 

“I promised jade id meet her after , her class I gotta go.”  ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Abby laid in bed scrolling through your Instagram story, replaying the story where your face appeared the most in them. She felt a deep longing for you, and it took all her strength to resist the urge to reach out.

She slid up on one of the stories, typing "beautiful" with heart eyes. Biting her lip, she moved her thumb to the arrow to send the message. When the person resting on her chest shifted, causing her to glanced down.

She glanced at Jade with a sigh, erased the message she had written and tossed her phone aside, pulling the girl in closer. This is what she wanted to settle for. ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

The day had went on and Abby spent the whole day on campus, something she rarely did, hoping to bump into you, but so far, she hadn’t had any luck.

She exited the library, deciding to stop looking for you. And just send you a text something she should’ve been done. As she took out her phone to send you a message, her gaze landed on the recognizable tote bag you always had with you.

“y/n ?.” Abby's voice came out gently, tinged with uncertainty. You paused briefly, clutching the straps of your bag tightly, then forced yourself to look away and continue walking, your heart racing. It felt as though it was thumping outside your chest.

“Y/n wait, let me talk to you.” Abby called out as she jogged behind you, trying to close the gap, reaching for your arm in a bid to slow you down.

“What do you want, Abby?" you snapped, pulling your arm away from her. She stared at you, starting to say something but then stopping before the words could escape.

"Can we have a conversation?" she said softly, moving closer to you. You let out a scoff and shook your head in response.

“talk.”

"can we go to my place? I don’t think we should talk here."She proposed, glancing at the couple that strolled by,

You felt the need to keep your distance, saying, “I can’t; I have other plans.” You did your best to maintain a cold demeanor, but her expression softened you. Finally, you gave in and suggested, “How about this weekend? I’m free then.”

"Sure, that sounds good to me," she said, and you nodded uncomfortably as you walked past her. She turned to watch you as you moved away.

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The week had flown by, and at last, the weekend was here. Abby sat on her couch, anxiously waiting for you , repeatedly glancing at her phone to see if you had sent her a message. Ever since that day she saw you, you had occupied her thoughts completely.

A gentle knock on the door caught her attention, causing her to turn quickly. She got up, brushing her hands against her sweatpants. As she paced back and forth in front of the door, she contemplated what to say when she saw you. Finally, she approached the door, nodded, and pulled it open.

“Hi.” You entered quietly, and as you shifted to the side, you felt a bit out of place. You stood there, feeling awkward, while she maneuvered around you to shut the door.

You both stood quietly, exchanging glances that felt heavy and awkward. The silence stretched on, making the moment feel even more uncomfortable. Finally, Abby suggested that you take a seat, but you turned her down; you had no intention of staying there for too long. 

“ you look good.” Her words made you let out a frustrated sigh. “Is this really what you wanted to talk about ?”

“No, I ju- how have you’ve  been ?” 

“Abby.” You expressed your frustration by saying, “I could be spending my time on something better.”

She stepped closer to you “I wanna say, that I’m sorry for how I left things off.” 

“Your sorry ?” You nearly laughed, but it felt empty, weighed down by the pain you had kept inside. “Is that all you can say? Just ‘I’m sorry’?” Your voice trembled.

Abby paused for a moment, searching for the right words to convey her thoughts to you. She slipped her hands into her pockets, attempting to steady her nerves. 

“I was scared and i didn’t know your intentions. It was natural for me to protect myself, I wasn't sure how to handle it.”

You froze as you let the words sink in, “you could’ve just talked to me.” 

“I know, and I really do care for you and I’m  sorry I’ll spend everyday making it up to you.” She spoke closing the gap in between the two of you. 

“I should go.” You went to turn and Abby went to grab your arm stopping you turning you to face her . 

“No,I don’t want you to go.” Abby stepped closer, closing the gap in between you two , her gaze never leaving you. “I know, I messed up” she breathed. “And I’ll spend every moment proving myself to you. I can’t change the past but I’m here now trying to make it right . Please… let me make this right.” 

Your eyes meet her pleading eyes, and everything inside of you crumbled , she had finally got to you. Whether you believed what she was saying to be true or not. despite everything—you still wanted her.

“You promise ?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. 

Abby eyes lit up and  Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like she was afraid to let go. "I promise,"

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Abby had dedicated the last six months to showing you just how much she cared, and those months turned out to be the best moments of your life. She welcomed you into her world, sharing her thoughts and feelings, and you cherished every second spent together.

You both had introduced each other to your families, and if you had any issues with each other , you promised to keep them private and away from your friends.

“Did you enjoy yourself ?”Abby asked while leading you to the front door. As you both worked on rekindling your relationship, you emphasized the importance of not just focusing on sex but instead prioritizing quality time together, which meant going on dates every weekend.

“I did, thank you.” You leaned in and kissed her cheek gently. Gripping her belt loop, you both stepped inside together.

“What are you doing ?” Abby asked you as you pulled on her belt pulling her towards the bedroom “I thought our deal was no sex ?” 

“I know but I.want.you.”You whispered between kisses on her jaw while you unfastened her belt and pants. She then took control, gently pushing you back onto the bed.

She pressed soft, lingering kisses along your neck, and you tangled your fingers in her hair, tilting your head back and shutting your eyes tightly. This made her stop, and she took hold of your chin,

guiding your gaze to meet hers. “Look at me,” she whispered gently, even as your eyes remained closed. When you finally opened them, you took in the features of her face.

She drew you into a passionate kiss, and as she pulled away, she studied your expression before uttering those three significant words.

“I love you…”

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

[baelarys]

𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

Daemon targaryen X reader Daughter (Father and daughter relationship)

Word Count:1719

Warning: just daddy issues I guess

You never had the close relationship others might expect between a father and his daughter. The memories of your childhood, especially the first five years of your life, are marked more by the absence of that paternal figure. It was just you and your mother, living a life you knew well, without the presence of a man whose existence you barely imagined.

The first time you saw Daemon Targaryen was when you turned five. You vividly remember a tall man with silver hair and violet eyes, who lifted you into his arms with a mix of curiosity and distance. He took you outside, where an imposing dragon awaited. Although the encounter left you confused, you couldn't help but wonder who this stranger was who suddenly seemed interested in you. You didn’t recognize him as your father until you heard him call you his daughter.

Despite the surprise, there was a spark of excitement in that moment, especially when you descended the skies together. From that visit on, Daemon began to appear more frequently in your life. On one occasion, he arrived with a gift that left you breathless: a dragon egg, in delicate shades of pink and blue, which you held in awe in your small hands.

But life has cruel ways of changing the course of things. The sudden death of your mother marked a turning point. It was then that you were told that your father would now take care of you. You remember clinging to your grandfather’s cloak, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with him not to let you go with that man who, although your father, still seemed like a stranger.

The cold and gloomy stone walls of Dragonstone never ceased to intimidate you. The imposing statues of dragons carved into every column and wall seemed to watch you with their empty eyes, always managing to scare you. There was no possible comparison between Dragonstone and Runestone, the home in the Vale where you had been raised. There, the air was lighter, the colors more vivid, and the mountains and forests offered a sense of protection that you never felt in this dark fortress.

Daemon, aware of your distress, did everything he could to provide you with comforts. He gave you the finest clothes, feasts that rivaled royal banquets, exquisite toys, and dazzling jewels, all in an attempt to make you feel at home. However, none of those luxuries managed to dispel the sense of loneliness that enveloped you. Each passing day, you felt more distant, more trapped in a place that was not your home and never would be.

You always insisted that Daemon allow you to return to Runestone, to complete your education in the home you so longed for. Every time you mentioned the possibility, his response was the same: "You are a dragon; you must be among dragons." Those words, repeated with a mix of firmness and conviction, seemed like an increasingly untenable excuse. Deep down, you knew you did not share the same lineage as the Targaryens in such a visible way. You did not have the distinctive silver hair or violet eyes that marked the royal family. Even your dragon egg, the symbol of your heritage, remained inert, a silent reminder of the distance between you and them.

The news of his marriage to Laena Velaryon took you by surprise. You had assumed that if he ever decided to settle down, he would do so with one of the dubious women he frequented in the darker corners of King’s Landing. The idea that Daemon, always unpredictable and volatile, would opt for such a strategic and respectable alliance as Laena Velaryon seemed inconceivable.

When your new sisters, Baela and Rhaena, were born, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. The girls were everything you were not: beautiful, with silver hair and an unbreakable bond with the blood of the dragon. Every time you looked at them, the difference between them and you became more evident, like a chasm that kept growing.

It’s not that you hated them, not at all. Laena Velaryon, always kind and affectionate, treated you like one of her own daughters, and the twins looked at you with the same devotion they would a big sister. However, despite all the affection they offered, there was something deep-rooted that kept you separate from the rest, an invisible but unbreakable barrier.

The birth of the twins awakened a paternal side in Daemon that you had seen only distantly before. With Baela and Rhaena, he was attentive and dedicated; he spent hours teaching them High Valyrian, telling them ancestral stories, and making sure each night they were well tucked in before sleep. However, with you, that tenderness and dedication never manifested in the same way. He never came to your room to give you a goodnight kiss or took the time to share with you the secrets of the tongue of his ancestors.

You tried to ignore the void that Daemon’s absence left in your life. Every time you saw him diligently care for Baela and Rhaena, you told yourself that you didn’t need him. You didn’t need his stories, his affection, or his teachings. You had learned to be self-sufficient, to find solace in your own strength. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel the chill of his indifference.

Laena’s death affected you more than you would have liked to admit. She had been a kind figure, a link that connected you in some way to a family that had always seemed distant. Her passing left a void in Dragonstone that felt like a heavy shadow over everyone. The twins, devastated by the loss of their mother, sought support from you that Daemon no longer seemed capable of providing. You tried to be strong for them, even though sadness also enveloped you.

Daemon, for his part, fell into a silent grief, transformed by the tragedy into an even more distant figure. But just when you thought that sorrow had consumed him completely, he made an announcement that left you stunned: his engagement to Rhaenyra Targaryen. For you, it was yet another of your father’s madnesses, another impulsive decision that defied the norms and expectations of the world around him.

The news filled you with a confusion that quickly turned into indignation. You had barely begun to come to terms with the painful loss of Laena, and now Daemon, in what seemed like an absolute display of insensitivity, announced his intention to marry again, this time to Rhaenyra Targaryen, his niece and the future Queen. You couldn’t help but bitterly think about how quickly he had moved on.

How could he, having just lost his wife, dive so quickly into another engagement? The idea that Daemon, with his unpredictable and defiant nature, would make such a controversial decision at such a delicate time seemed to you like another display of his recklessness. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken the time to honor Laena’s memory before plunging into what seemed like yet another of his craziness.

The wind whipped at your face, cold and biting, as it often did on Dragonstone. Your hands, numb from the island’s relentless climate, clutched your cloak as you watched Valarr fly in the distance, his pale pink scales glowing softly in the sunset light. The roar of Caraxes, resonant and powerful, made you turn your head. Daemon approached the dragon with a look of anger etched on his face.

Seeing you, he stopped for a moment, clearly surprised. "Y/N," he said, his tone more controlled than his expression suggested. He hadn’t expected to find you there.

Daemon cast you a brief but piercing glance before answering, as if weighing how much he should reveal. "To Harrenhal," he finally said, with a bluntness that only fueled your suspicions.

You were not satisfied. "Does the Queen know?" you insisted, searching his face for any sign that would confirm your fears.

Daemon avoided your gaze, focusing on preparing Caraxes, as if simply ignoring the question could dissipate the growing tension between you. But you were not willing to let it go.

"Was it you, then?" The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. "Was it you who ordered the death of Prince Jaehaerys?”

Daemon stared at you, his eyes as dark as a stormy sea. "It was an accident," he replied brusquely.

"How can that be an accident?" you retorted, disbelief and anger mingling in your voice. "I don’t have time for questions," Daemon snapped, his tone sharp and cutting, clearly expecting you to be silent and drop the subject.

Despite his command, you stood firm, crossing your arms and challenging the silence that had settled between you. The tension was palpable, each unspoken word carrying an imposing weight in the air. Daemon watched you, his expression initially hardened, but after a long moment of silence, his eyes revealed a glimmer of something deeper, something he had been hiding. He sighed, resigned. "Y/N, some things are better left as they are. There aren’t always answers you want to hear.”

Your thoughts remained unsatisfied, but before you could respond, Daemon took a step toward you. The unexpected warmth of his hand on your shoulder was a stark contrast to his usual coldness. His demeanor, though still somber, softened with a note of fatigue and concern.

"Take care of your sisters," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "They will need you now more than ever.”

With those words, he leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead, a gesture that, although brief, was surprisingly tender and protective. It was a moment of vulnerability that sharply contrasted with his usual hardness.

Daemon quickly pulled away, his face hardening again as if the act of tenderness had been a slip he could not afford. Without another word, he turned and mounted Caraxes. The dragon soared into the sky with a roar that echoed through the cloudy heavens, taking your father away into the distance, disappearing among the gray clouds of the sunset.

[jaeyunluvbot]

possibility

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 angst, seungmin is kind of a dickhead, poor y/n, seungmin x fem!reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 5.3k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The apartment feels eerily quiet, except for the faint sound of Seungmin’s voice coming from the bedroom. You’re curled up on the couch, blanket draped over your shoulders, staring blankly at the paused movie on your tv. The half-empty mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table has long since gone cold.

This has been your routine for weeks now—waiting. Waiting for Seungmin to finish his meetings, his calls, his endless planning for the comeback. You understand. You’ve always understood. Being an idol is demanding, and he’s worked so hard to get where he is. But lately, the understanding has felt heavier. Lonelier.

Tonight, this feeling is especially prevalent, with Seungmin having promised you he’d have the night open specifically for you, no work calls or meetings. You’d been overjoyed at this news, planning a movie marathon for the two of you, a way to reconnect after weeks of distance. 

The night had been exactly what you needed, a relaxing evening with the love of your life who had finally cleared up his schedule enough to make time for you. Except, the love of your life was currently on a surprise work call, speaking in a clearly frustrated tone in the other room.

You scroll through the photos on your phone, lingering on one from a few months ago. Seungmin had a shy smile on his face, holding up a peace sign while you snapped the picture. That was before the chaos of schedules consumed him—back when there was still time for dates and lazy mornings in bed.

You hear the creak of his door opening and perk up instantly, setting your phone down. Seungmin walks out, a notebook in one hand, his hair messy like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.

“Hey,” you say softly, your heart lifting just a little at the sight of him. He doesn’t respond, heading straight to the kitchen.

You follow him, watching as he rushes around the apartment, looking for his keys and wallet. “Wanna finish the movie?” you ask, leaning against the counter.

“Hm? Oh, I can’t, Chan needs me to re-record a few lines for the title track,” he mutters without looking at you. 

Your stomach twists. “You’ve barely had a break all day, Seungmin. Don’t you think it can wait until tomorrow?”

Before he can respond, his phone buzzes again. He picks it up, reading the message with a frown.

“I really have to go,” he says abruptly, finally finding his wallet and keys, which had been tossed haphazardly on the kitchen counter when he arrived home earlier that afternoon.

“What?” you ask, your voice rising in disbelief. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” you ask, following him to the door, wanting desperately to beg him to stay for once. “It’s so late, Seungmin. You need rest. Can’t someone else handle it?”

“My lines aren’t right for the track, I have to fix them,” he says, slipping on his shoes.

“Please,” you say, your voice cracking. You reach for his hand, but he doesn’t stop moving. “Can’t you stay? Just tonight?”

He pauses, just for a moment, his back to you. Then he sighs. “I really can’t, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He opens the door without even looking back, leaving you standing in the middle of the room. He doesn’t kiss you goodbye.

The sound of the door closing echoes in the empty apartment. You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his absence pressing down on you. Crawling into bed feels like defeat, and the sheets are cold without him beside you.

You understood that his job depended on this, and that he was a perfectionist to his core, always criticizing his own work, no matter how good it was, but you had thought that maybe he could finally put work aside to spend the night with you. Clearly, this was a foolish thought, or wishful thinking, but you thought that your three-year relationship was important to him, now you weren’t so sure.

As you get ready for bed that night, your mind is plagued with thoughts of Seungmin, of the good times the two of you had once shared. You crawl into your empty bed, the cold sheets reminding you again that he would always put his job over you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, you move through the rhythms of your daily routine, getting up, showering, and cooking yourself breakfast. The act is painful, as you’d usually cook for both you and Seungmin, and you find yourself getting two mugs out of the cabinet without thinking, another ache shooting through your body as you remember that he’s not here and that he never came home last night.

Your day at work isn’t any better, with grades being due soon and kids trying to turn in late work for extra credit so their parents wouldn’t be mad at their report cards.

The only semblance of relief you get is when your coworkers join you at lunch, chatting happily as you grade papers and projects, distracting you from what’s going on at home.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’re just finishing your shower when the sound of the door unlocking catches your attention. You glance at the clock—6:00 p.m. Seungmin steps in, looking exhausted, his hoodie wrinkled, and his bag slung lazily over his shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just sets his things down and heads toward the kitchen.

“Hi,” you say softly, following him. “You didn’t come home last night.”

“They kept me late,” he replies, opening the fridge. “I crashed at the studio.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “You could’ve at least let me know. I was worried.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he says with a shrug.

“Not a big deal?” Your voice rises slightly. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye when you left, and then you just… don’t come back? Do you know how that feels?”

He sighs, shutting the fridge without taking anything out. “Y/N, I didn’t have time to think about it. Work is crazy right now.”

“Work is always crazy,” you shoot back. “It’s always your top priority, Seungmin. Always.”

“Because it has to be!” he snaps, finally turning to face you. His face is a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “Do you think I can just slack off? This is my career, Y/N. It’s not optional.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, but you push through. “I’m not asking you to slack off. I’m asking you to care about us as much as you care about your job. To care about me.”

His jaw tightens, his voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. “Some of us have actual jobs, Y/N. We don’t all get to hang out with a bunch of kids every day. I have to provide for us.”

The words hit like a punch to the stomach. Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. He’s never talked to you like this before.

“That’s what you think of what I do?” you manage to whisper. “You think my job isn’t important?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did,” you say, your voice trembling now. “You know how insecure I’ve always been about my career. About how little I make compared to you. You’re supposed to be the one person who doesn’t look down on me for it.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “You always put your job first, Seungmin. You never think about how it feels for me to be left behind all the time. And now this? It’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.”

“That’s not fair,” he says, his tone defensive. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I’m trying to keep everything together, and all you do is cling to me like I’m supposed to fix everything for you.”

You flinch at his words.

“I’m sorry being with me is such a burden to you,” you snap, your voice breaking.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this right now. I’m going to the dorms.”

Your heart drops. “What?”

“I need space,” he says, grabbing his bag again. “I can’t handle this right now.”

“Seungmin,” you say desperately, stepping toward him. “You just got home. When are you coming back?”

He hesitates at the door, not looking at you. “I don’t know. I just… I need to think.”

And then he’s gone.

You stand there in stunned silence, the apartment suddenly feeling impossibly empty. You sink onto the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears come.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next few days are a blur. You try to keep yourself busy, filling the emptiness with noise and routine. Work becomes your refuge, the chatter and laughter of your students a temporary distraction from the heaviness that lingers in your chest.

You smile at your coworkers during lunch, laugh at jokes you barely register, and nod along to their conversations. To anyone else, you look fine—maybe a little tired—but fine.

But the truth is, you’re unraveling.

The apartment is too quiet now, each room a reminder of his absence. His toothbrush is still next to yours in the bathroom, his favorite hoodie draped over the back of the couch. The silence is suffocating, and every time you catch yourself glancing at the door, hoping he’ll walk in, the ache in your chest deepens.

At night, it’s worse. You lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the space beside you cold and empty. You clutch his pillow, trying to hold on to the faintest trace of him, but it’s not the same. His hoodie having lost his scent from how often you’d been wearing it in his absence.

When Felix texts you to check in, asking if you’re okay, you respond with a cheerful, “Just busy with work! How are you?”

And when Han calls, his voice warm and teasing, you force a laugh, telling him everything is fine.

But they’re not convinced.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

One evening, you’re cleaning up after dinner when there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find Felix and Han standing there, both holding plastic bags filled with snacks.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to sound surprised, though the sight of them makes your heart clench with relief.

“Just thought we’d check in on you,” Felix says, his tone light but his eyes searching yours.

Han holds up the bags. “And bring supplies for a movie night. Unless you’re busy?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I’m not busy. Come in.”

They settle on the couch while you grab drinks from the fridge. You can feel their eyes on you, their concern unspoken but heavy in the air.

As the movie plays, Felix nudges you gently, offering a gummy bear. You take it with a small smile, grateful for the distraction. Han cracks jokes throughout the film, his energy infectious. For a while, you almost forget the weight you’ve been carrying.

But when Felix casually drapes an arm over your shoulders, you stiffen, the familiar comfort of his affection too much to handle. You pull away slightly, pretending to adjust the blanket.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice low enough that Han doesn’t hear.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, just tired.”

He doesn’t push, but you catch the glance he exchanges with Han.

After they leave, the loneliness sinks back in, an unwelcome, but familiar feeling. You curl up on the couch, clutching your phone, your thumb hovering over Seungmin’s contact.

You want to text him, to ask if he’s okay, if he’s coming home, if he still wants this.

But you don’t.

Instead, you put the phone down and stare at the ceiling, wondering how things got to this point. The pit in your stomach only growing when you think about how long it’s been since he’d spoken more than a few words to you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Seungmin sits on the dorm couch, his head tipped back against the cushion, eyes closed. The weight of exhaustion settles heavily on him—physically, mentally, emotionally. Work had been relentless lately, and though he knew he should feel relief at finally being back in the dorm, the quiet nagging in his chest wouldn’t let up.

The sound of a door opening pulls him from his thoughts, and Chan appears, a towel slung over his shoulder, fresh from a shower.

“Yo,” Chan greets, pausing when he notices Seungmin’s expression. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home with Y/N?”

Seungmin exhales sharply, sitting up straight. “I’m staying here for now. Work’s been...hectic, and it’s easier to be closer to the studio.”

Chan narrows his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s a load of crap, and you know it.”

“It’s not—”

“Nope, stop.” Chan cuts him off with a hand. “I’ve known you long enough to see right through you. What’s really going on?”

Seungmin doesn’t respond immediately, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We had an argument,” he mutters.

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Okay, and? Arguments happen. Why are you avoiding her instead of fixing it?”

“It’s not that simple,” Seungmin snaps, his voice harsher than intended. “I just... I needed space.”

Chan sighs, crossing his arms. “Look, I get it—work’s a lot right now, and relationships aren’t always smooth sailing. But avoiding her? Leaving her alone while she’s probably upset? That’s not right, man. You’re better than this.”

Before Seungmin can respond, the front door swings open, and Han and Felix step in, their energy noticeably different than usual.

Felix places a bag of leftover snacks on the counter, avoiding Seungmin’s gaze, while Han throws himself onto a chair with a pointed huff.

“Something wrong?” Seungmin asks cautiously, his brow furrowing.

“Not with us,” Han says, voice clipped. “But Y/N? Yeah, she’s not doing great, if you even care.”

Felix doesn’t say anything, but the disappointed look he shoots at Seungmin feels sharper than any words.

“What do you mean?” Seungmin’s stomach sinks, his voice softening.

“She’s hurting, Min,” Felix finally says, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “She’s trying to hold it together, but it’s obvious she’s struggling. She misses you. We can see it.”

Han leans forward, his expression uncharacteristically stern. “You should’ve seen how she lit up when we showed up. Like we were giving her air after she’d been holding her breath for days. And even then, she barely touched us. You know how she usually is—always clinging to us.”

Felix nods. “But not now. She’s pulling back, trying not to be a burden because you made her feel like one.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightens, shame creeping up his spine. “I didn’t mean to make her feel that way.”

“Then fix it,” Han says bluntly. “You’re the only one who can.”

Chan chimes in, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You’ve got to decide what’s more important, Seungmin. Work will always be hectic. That’s the nature of our job. But Y/N? She’s not always going to wait around for you to figure it out.”

“The comeback is so close, it’s only a few weeks, I’ll make it up to her after promotion is over.”

Chan rolls his eyes, “What if she’s not there in a few weeks? What if she gets tired of waiting for you to get your shit together? Then what?”

Seungmin inhales sharply, abruptly standing up from the couch and tossing the blanket on the floor, “I don’t need this from you all, I’m just trying to do what’s best for the team.”

Seungmin then leaves the living room, storming into his bedroom, and slamming the door behind him with a force that makes the walls shake. He stands there, panting, hands clenched into fists at his sides. His heart races, blood pounding in his ears.

He can’t believe the audacity of the guys. Han and Felix had no right to be upset with him—he’s the one who’s been working nonstop, the one who’s been carrying the weight of the comeback, and they don’t understand that.

They’re taking her side, Seungmin thinks bitterly. They don’t even know what it’s like, how much pressure I’m under.

He throws himself onto the bed, his anger turning to frustration. The guilt is there too, gnawing at him, but he shoves it aside. It’s too much to think about now. He needs to focus on work.

But no matter how hard he tries, his mind keeps drifting back to Y/N. You haven’t messaged him, called, or done anything that would make him feel like you're still holding onto him, and for some reason, that stings worse than he thought it would.

The thought of you—alone, without him—is almost too much to bear.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next few days pass in a blur. Seungmin tries to push through the exhaustion, but it’s impossible. He’s barely functioning at work, his focus slipping during practices, missing notes during recording, and forgetting his lines. His energy is drained, and his usual sharpness has been dulled by the mix of stress and guilt.

At one point during a practice, Chan pulls him aside, his face uncharacteristically stern. “Seungmin,” he says in a low voice, “you’re not performing at your best, and it’s affecting the group. You need to stop and get your head straight.”

Seungmin opens his mouth to argue, but Chan cuts him off. “No, you’re not doing any more work until you fix whatever’s going on in your head. Go home. Rest. You’re burned out, and you can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightens in defiance, but he knows there’s no point. He’s never seen Chan like this before—so firm, so sure. Reluctantly, he nods.

He returns to the dorm, barely dragging himself to his room before collapsing into bed. The silence in the place is suffocating, and he feels his frustration build once more.

Felix and Han avoid him completely. When he passes by them, they don’t make eye contact, don’t greet him. The tension is unbearable.

He can’t stand it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After a few days of aimlessly rotting in bed, Seungmin finds himself sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a half-empty cup of coffee. The weight of everything is crushing him.

Felix and Han are in the living room, talking softly, but Seungmin knows they’re talking about him. He can feel the way they avoid him, the way they give him pitying glances when they think he’s not looking.

Finally, Han breaks the silence, his voice calm but unwavering. “You know, Seungmin, we tried to warn you.”

Seungmin looks up, his eyes flashing with irritation. “What are you talking about?”

Felix doesn’t even look up from his phone, his tone clipped. “You’ve been acting like an asshole. You can’t just shut out Y/N because you’re stressed, especially not after everything she’s done for you. You pushed her away, and now you’re both suffering.”

Seungmin feels the sting of their words, but he doesn’t let it show. He scoffs. “And what? Now you’re all going to take her side?”

Han meets his gaze with a level look. “No, we’re not ‘taking her side.’ We’re just saying—before she was your girlfriend, she was our friend. We care about her, and we don’t like seeing her go through all this because of you.”

Felix finally looks up, his expression tight with frustration. “She’s been putting on a brave face, but we know it’s tearing her up. She misses you, and instead of working it out, you’re here moping like you’ve been wronged. You’re the one who fucked up, Seungmin.”

The words cut deep, far deeper than Seungmin expects. His chest tightens, and for a moment, he’s at a loss. The guilt from all the tension and unresolved feelings crashes over him, but the anger he’s been holding onto keeps him from fully letting go.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Han stands up, walking over to the table, his expression softening slightly. “Well you did, and you can’t expect us to ask her to wait for you when you haven’t made any effort to keep her.”

Felix nods in agreement. “Obviously, we don’t want you two to break up, but why should she sit around and wait if you won’t even check on her and let her know you care?”

Seungmin looks down at his hands, feeling embarrassed at their words, despite knowing deep down that they were right. He fucked up, but now he’s in so deep that he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Seungmin’s chest tightens with each passing second, the weight of everything finally hitting him all at once. The guilt, the anger, the frustration—it all comes crashing down. His eyes sting, and before he even realizes it, tears begin to form.

He lets out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the emotions he’s been bottling up are overwhelming. The anger he had towards you, the defensiveness, the fear of being vulnerable—it all seems so insignificant now. His mind goes blank, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

Felix and Han look at each other in shock. This isn’t the Seungmin they know. He’s always been one to push his issues away in front of other people, and he certainly hasn’t ever cried in front of them like this.

Seungmin’s voice cracks as he finally speaks. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he says, his words barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to make it right. I’m terrified she’s going to leave me.” He wipes at his eyes, as if that could make the feeling go away, but it doesn’t. “I fucked up so bad.”

Felix’s usual calm demeanor softens as he moves to sit next to Seungmin, placing a hand on his back. “Seungmin...” he starts, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve always been the one who holds everything together. But you can’t do that by pushing people away. You know that, right?”

Han joins them, his expression filled with concern. “You’ve always been our rock, but you’re human, man. You make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Seungmin looks down, his hands trembling. “But she’s... she’s everything to me. And I hurt her. I don’t deserve her.”

Felix and Han exchange another look, the weight of his words sinking in. After a long pause, Han speaks, his voice softer now. “You fucked up, yeah. But one thing about Y/N is that she’s one of the most forgiving, kind people we know. She won’t walk away from you for making a mistake. And she loves you, Seungmin. Even when you hurt her.”

Seungmin shakes his head, still not able to fully accept it. “But what if... what if she can’t forgive me this time? What if I’ve ruined everything?”

Felix’s hand gently rubs his back, trying to offer some comfort. “You’ve hurt her, but you’re not beyond redemption. You just need to own up to it. Apologize. Show her you’re trying to change.”

Han adds, his voice firm but caring, “You can’t expect everything to go back to normal overnight, but Y/N has always been there for you. She’s patient. And even if she doesn’t take you back, you need to make it right with her, for your own peace of mind at least.”

Seungmin’s breath hitches as he struggles to process their words. He feels so small right now, like he’s lost control of everything, but at the same time, hearing them say that you still love him gives him a small glimmer of hope.

“I don’t deserve her,” he murmurs again, voice thick with emotion.

Felix smiles softly, a bittersweet look in his eyes. “You do. You’re just... human. You’re not perfect, but she loves you anyway. So go and fix it. Don’t let your pride get in the way of what the two of you have built together.”

Han gives him a light shove, a smile tugging at his lips. “And you know, we’re not going to let you off the hook that easy. You’ve got work to do, but you’re going to get through this. And when you do, Y/N will still be there.”

Seungmin wipes at his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. He feels exhausted, emotionally drained, but the weight on his chest is starting to lift just a little. Maybe there’s a way to make things right after all.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, voice still thick with emotion but filled with gratitude. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Felix and Han both nod, standing up as they ruffle his hair in their usual affectionate way.

“You’re welcome, bro,” Felix says with a soft smile. “Now get to work, and make things right with Y/N.”

Seungmin nods, his heart heavy but determined. The path ahead won’t be easy, but he knows he has to face it, not just for himself, but for you too.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, Seungmin wakes up with a pounding headache, the events of the past few days replaying in his mind. He barely slept, tossing and turning, but now he’s awake, his body exhausted but his mind more clear than it’s been in days.

He stares at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. The guilt from how he treated you gnaws at him, but so does the realization that he doesn’t want to lose you. He knows he messed up, but now all he can think about is making things right.

The first thing he does is check his phone. There’s a text from you—your usual check-in message, though it’s curt, different from the warm, affectionate messages you used to send him. You’re trying to be polite, trying not to show how much he hurt you. He sees the small signs—an ‘I’m okay’ that doesn’t sound convincing, an emoji that’s more of a placeholder than anything genuine. It stings more than he expected.

He quickly types a reply, his fingers trembling slightly as he types out the words he’s been thinking all night.

“I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t mean what I said. Can we talk later? I’ll be back soon.”

After hitting send, he gets out of bed and heads for the shower, trying to get himself together. He knows it’s going to be a long day, but it’s the first step toward fixing everything.

Checking his phone, he sees a message from you, telling him he can come over. It’s so short and devoid of any personality that it almost makes him reconsider his decision to go see you. He steels his nerves, knowing that he’s the one that did this to you, so it’s his job to fix it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

When Seungmin arrives at your apartment later in the afternoon, his nerves are shot. His hands are clammy, and he can barely sit still. It feels like he’s walking into a minefield, unsure of how things will go.

You’re sitting on the couch when he enters, your posture stiff, as if you’ve been waiting for this conversation but dreading it at the same time. Your eyes don’t meet his as he steps inside, and a lump forms in his throat.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs to apologize for. He feels stupid for how he acted, for pushing you away when you only wanted to love him. The silence between you both stretches on, neither of you knowing where to begin.

Finally, you sigh and look up at him. Your expression is guarded, but the pain in your eyes is impossible to ignore. It breaks him, but he can’t shy away from it. He has to face it.

“Seungmin, I don’t know what to say,” you say quietly. “I don’t know how you went from being so sweet to... to treating me like that. I get it, you’re busy, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone when you’re around.”

Seungmin feels his heart drop at your words. He takes a step closer, swallowing hard. “I know I hurt you, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. That’s not your fault. I never should’ve said those things. I just... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I let everything build up, and I pushed you away when you were just trying to be there for me.” His voice breaks slightly, but he keeps going. “I didn’t mean what I said. I never want you to feel like you’re a burden to me, because you’re not. You’re everything to me.”

You don’t say anything, your gaze fixed on the floor as you process his words. Seungmin takes another step closer, reaching out, but hesitates for a moment before gently placing his hand on yours. You flinch, just barely, but you don’t pull away.

“I love you, Y/N,” he continues, his voice thick with all the feelings he’d been bottling up during his time away. “And I’m terrified that I’ve ruined everything. I know I can’t take back what I said, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I promise.”

There’s a long pause before you finally look up at him, your eyes red, and he can see the raw emotion in them. He realizes you’ve been crying, and it makes him feel worse, knowing how much his actions have hurt you.

“I don’t know if I can just forget it, Seungmin,” you say softly, your voice tinged with sadness. “It hurt too much. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was just a burden that you had to deal with.”

Seungmin’s chest tightens, and he pulls his hand back, feeling the sting of your words. “I didn’t mean that. You’re more than enough. I’m the one who messed up. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I couldn’t see how much I was pushing you away. And I hate that I did that.”

You look at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face as if trying to gauge whether he truly means it. You take a deep breath and stand up. For a moment, Seungmin’s heart skips a beat, unsure of what you’re going to do. But you face him, standing in front of him, arms crossed.

“I’m not asking you to fix everything overnight,” you say, your tone firm but soft. “But you have to show me that you’re sorry. That you actually care. I need to know that you want to be here for me, even when things are hard.”

“I do. I do care. More than anything,” Seungmin says, his voice low. “I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I’ll show you. I promise.”

You study him for a moment longer before finally nodding, though it’s clear you’re still hurt. “I’m going to need time, Seungmin. I need to trust that you’re not just saying this because you feel guilty. I need you to prove it.”

Seungmin’s heart sinks, but he nods, knowing that you’re right. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please... don’t give up on me.”

You look at him one last time, your eyes softening a little. “I’m not giving up on you. But you need to work for it.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

As the days pass, Seungmin tries his best to show you that he’s serious about making things right. He’s more attentive, more patient, and he makes an effort to be there for you, even if it’s just for a few minutes every day. He cancels unnecessary meetings, takes time off from work when he can, and always makes sure to check in with you.

You start to soften again, but the walls you put up are still there. It’ll take time, but Seungmin’s determined. This is his chance to prove that he’s worthy of your love, and he won’t let it slip away.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 wrote this instead of doing my schoolwork lmao

masterlist.

[binniesbooks]

• REWINDING TO TOMORROW

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 7.1k

pairings ex-boyfriend!Soobin x fem!reader (a little bit of bff!Taehyun x you)

warnings angst, a lot of crying, comfort, blowjob (m receiving), swallowing, unprotected sex (usage of condom at first tho), creampie (+ if I missed anything)

faye's note GUYS! THIS IS MY BIRTHDAY SPECIAL! 🥳 ㅋㅋ And since it's my birthday, I made something about Soobin, my lifeline! 🫡 Hope you like this one too! I'm stepping closer to the quarter life, I'm officially 21! Cheers to more years of supporting TOMORROW X TOGETHER! Btw, fuck Tumblr for being so glitchy, I had a hard time posting this because it kept on messing and realigning the pictures, wtf. 😒 The end felt rushed, please don't judge, for I, accidentally, fell asleep early last night! ㅠㅠ

You and Soobin have been dating for a while now. The relationship that bloomed from your friendship was the reason why your relationship was going well. You both also share a close-knit circle of friends who often hang out together making your bond feel even stronger.

So of all people, why are you and Soobin suffering from the heartache you were not supposed to feel in the first place?

"Y/n, are you going with us this weekend?" Chae was the one to wake you up from your thoughts. You are currently in the library for a group study for the upcoming examinations and your friends are planning to go out this weekend for dinner as a celebration.

You meekly answered a quiet yes, throwing a glance at Soobin, who is sitting six seats away from you, too focused on writing down his notes. "How about you?" Taehyun asked him as he slightly nudged him with his elbow. "I don't know. I might not be able to go." Soobin fixed his glasses without sparing a single look at the group and took a sip at the grape ade he had grown accustomed to when you two were still dating.

Despite the fact that you two broke up, your friends still tried to mediate between the two of you. Always trying to make the environment light whenever you two were present. But the hurt runs deep to the point that you both struggled to navigate your feelings in the presence of each other. Feeling the long lost love and the absence of trust you two once shared.

"I'm not going to eat if anyone from this circle is not going." Kai, the youngest, pouted. Only to receive soft chuckles and light laughs from the others.

"I'd rather hit the gym then. Besides, I've been skipping a lot nowadays." Taehyun sighed.

"Should I just play for a diamond this time?" Beomgyu muttered, pondering on whether to go or just play his favorite game at home.

"Then I should go shopping then, it's the weekend anyway," Ari exclaimed.

"Goodness! I'll pay this time! Just... just go with us, Soob." Yeonjun whined as he lightly slammed his card on the table. His action got your friends exclaiming "Oh, I'm going!" Yeonjun threw a tantrum, knowing his card was at stake. A laugh was once shared again in your circle. However, you weren't dumb, you knew that they were just trying to make the atmosphere lighter. They are trying to break the awkward tension that settled between the two of you.

"Let's wrap up and ace our exams! I'm prepared for Yeonjun Hyung to go broke." Kai cackled at the thought, receiving a neck slice from the older. While the others walked ahead with Soobin, Taehyun stayed behind for a bit to talk to you.

"I seriously don't know what happened between the two of you. You used to be sweet with each other, not like this," he helped you pack your things, your moves coming to a halt.

"Have you not heard about the rumor?" you inquired.

"Rumor? What rumor?" his brows furrowed.

"That he and..." you paused, trying your best not to break down, " He and Yunhee are back together. They've been screwing behind my back."

"Have you talked to him about that?" Taehyun's brow furrowed. You shook your head. "I did not. The moment I heard about it, I distanced myself from him."

"I suppose those are baseless rumors, y/n. I'm not siding with him but I will talk to him about that." His voice hinted with irritation about what he had just heard.

"Please don't, Tyun. I can't afford to destroy their relationship. Yunhee is Soobin's first love." Your eyes welled up with tears as you held both his hands, pleading. Scared about the thought that it might embarrass you more.

"How could I not? Am I supposed to stay put while the girl I-- no, this friend of mine is hurt?" He gently cupped your face rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks. You were not able to catch a few of the words he uttered, as you looked at him with watery eyes.

Taehyun sighed once again and pulled you closer to hug you. The tall guy let you sob on his chest. "I'm not used to this y/n. I can't see you like this." He breathed words drowning with your silent sobs.

One day before the exam, you weren't able to spot Soobin in the classroom, or the wide field of the campus. You can't help but get bothered. Soobin never skipped classes especially when it was exam week. He can't afford to miss out on important lectures. As a concerned friend- no, probably just a mere classmate at this point, you jot down important notes from the lectures that day. Planning to at least give him a copy of the lectures.

It was your exam day, only two subjects were scheduled for today, excluding the subjects Soobin missed. You brought the written notes with you, praying that Soobin would be going to school and at least take his exams.

The moment you stepped inside the classroom, you saw the familiar figure sitting near the window with a sprout in his hair. You weighed whether to give the notes to him now or later. A few of your classmates, one who happened to be his seatmate, passed by near you, and was talking about Soobin.

"He said he caught a cold yesterday, so he wasn't able to come to class." You were quietly listening to them.

"He was asking me if I have some extra notes but I wasn't able to take down notes yesterday." The guy scratched his head. You smiled a bit, you wanted to check on him knowing that he caught a cold. You told yourself to meet him after the exam today to give him the notes you wrote.

"One subject is done." You muttered, stretching your arms above your head. You glanced at Soobin sitting in the front row. You were able to catch a glimpse of his face as he looked outside the window. His pointy nose was a hue of red, he kept on sneezing. His eyelashes fanning beautifully. Eyes with a glint of sadness, you can't tell why. He fixed his earphones as he closed his eyes, chin laying peacefully on his palm, feeling the cool breeze of the wind from the open window.

Your exams for today are done. You clutched the notebook where you compiled the notes you were supposed to give him. As you got up from your seat you saw Soobin down the other end. You stiffened, pondering whether you had the courage to talk to him and check on him after his absence. You wanted to ask if he totally recovered from the cold he caught, an obvious question, you heard him sneeze many times. When he passed by in front of you, you wanted to give him the notes, "Soob-", you were cut from what you were supposed to say.

"Thanks for the notes, I'll give it back tomorrow." He said. To your dismay, it wasn't you who he was talking to, it was the other guy behind you.

You smiled bitterly as you crumpled the notes. Of course, he won't pay attention to you, he's dating Yun Hee now, wasn't he? Besides, what business does he have to do with you anymore? You walked outside the classroom with heavy footsteps The extra notes were long discarded in the bin near the door.

You felt arms wrapping around your neck, causing you to almost fall. "How's the exam?" It was Beomgyu. "Move your hand. She almost fell." Taehyun spoke with an annoyed tone.

"You are so stingy, even these past few days." Beomgyu rolled his eyes, referring to Taehyun. Taehyun took your bag over your slumped shoulders, carrying it instead.

"Math is hard." you only exclaimed, mouthing a quiet 'thank you' and a smile to Taehyun, to which he responded by ruffling your hair.

"I know you still did well." Beomgyu gently pinched your cheeks.

The two males walked with you side by side to the bus stop. They kept on spitting jokes, bickering with each other, and teasing you. But neither of the two spoke about you and Soobin. They know it themselves how it got awkward whenever the topic is all about you and your past relationship.

You and Taehyun got inside the bus waving goodbye to Beomgyu who was currently making faces outside. Beomgyu lives near the school while Taehyun and you, along with Soobin were neighbors, 4 stops away from the campus. It was time-consuming traveling back and forth, but you were used to it now. You were just thankful that Soobin takes another route, a longer one when he goes to school and when he goes home, leaving you and Taehyun to travel by yourselves. Maybe Yunhee told Soobin to do so, or maybe he walked Yunhee home first. It doesn't matter, besides, you two are already over.

"Tyun." You call out to your friend as you scoot over the side of the seat giving him space to sit down on. He gladly sat down, placing both of your bags in his lap.

"Did you two talk already?" He inquired, glancing at his phone to check the time. You just shook your head. "You?" You simply replied. He places his hand above yours on your lap as he closes his eyes while leaning his crown on the headrest of the bus seat. "I don't want to hurt you. You asked me not to talk to him about it, so I did not." He bit the inside of his cheek, words coming out unintentionally. He wants to be careful with his words but they keep on slipping out as if betraying him. He wants to come clean. He does not want to be selfish, he thinks to himself. But Taehyun has been the most caring friend ever. His tender touches whenever you cry when you were kids are so special to you. Maybe you are dumb, but Taehyun has always been your shoulder to cry on. Your best of best friends. The most sympathetic person you ever met.

"I... I tried to talk to him earlier though." You stare at his hands on yours. "But I was ignored, he was talking to one of our classmates." You added.

"Do you want to drop by our ice cream shop?" He asked changing the subject as he let go of your hand, your stop being announced on the bus speaker. "Your treat?" You giddily asked. "It's on the house." He smiled back at you.

Taehyun's big sister owns an ice cream store down the street where you live. Your favorite spot with the two of them, Soobin and Taehyun, is the ice cream shop. And when you three just wanted a breath of fresh air, you often hung out at the mini park mid-way. Just in the middle of your house and the shop.

You got off the bus, with Taehyun still holding your backpack. You are used to it anyway, whoever was with you does it without a second thought. It may be your ex-boyfriend, Soobin, your childhood friend, Taehyun, your seniors, Beomgyu and Yeonjun, or your junior slash smaller brother-like, Heuningkai. Nevertheless, they also do this to Chae and Ari.

As you two were enjoying your ice creams while having some chit-chat about your exams, Taehyun suddenly stopped talking, staring out the glass window pane. "Is something wrong?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the window behind you, and met with nothing but kids running. "Nothing." His sharky smile comes back as he looks at you again. "What were you saying again?" He added. You continued talking again as he glanced one more at the window, looking at Soobin who was currently talking to a girl. Her waist-length hair flowed with the air, it was Yunhee, at the very corner of the street just behind the big tree. Maybe the rumors were true.

Two more days passed and exam week was done. Students are gathered in different restaurants to celebrate, for their graduating seniors, for their top 1 classmate, their aced exams, or for just barely surviving the exam. One of the restaurants has their reservation, named after one of your seniors, Choi Yeonjun. Your circle comes one by one, choosing their desired seats. Leaving two seats beside Taehyun.

Soobin came up a bit late, the shoulder and hood of his jacket wet with the drizzling rain outside. You wanted to trade seats with Taehyun because you were afraid and nervous about the thought that Soobin was sitting beside you. But Taehyun was preoccupied with Beomgyu's non-stop talking. His sharky teeth show as he laughs. You end up sitting between the two males.

A few rounds of drinks and some of you are flushed red. Some are barely able to open their eyes. A few more students joined your table as the atmosphere became louder and rowdy. Final exams were done anyway, being wasted shouldn't be their problem right now. You flinched at the scraping sound of the chair beside you. Soobin excused himself saying he wanted to get some fresh air. He still can hold his liquor, you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't that long before the crowd got bigger so you excused yourself too. And maybe it was also just your alibi to look for Soobin.

You looked for him outside, and even the dark alley on the side. You were stunned at what you saw right in front of your eyes. The tall shadow of a big man, most likely kissing a waist-length-haired woman, according to the silhouettes. It was all too familiar. You don't need more shreds of evidence. The rumors aren't baseless at all. You covered your mouth until you felt a hand cover your eyes as well. You were pulled back to the bright corner of the alley as you felt big and warm hands wrap around you.

It was Taehyun. It was him again. It was he who accepted you in his warm embrace. The guy who lets you sob on his chest for as long as you want. He gently rubbed your back as you wept on his chest, hushing you. "Please don't cry. it's hurting me." The latter words were inaudible. He cups your face as he looks at you with pity. He tried to dry your tears with his thumbs only to be wet again as your tears flowed down.

"I-it wasn't b-baseless a-at all, Tyun." You sniffled. "It's all true. I-it's all fucking true!" Taehyun did not want to believe it. He did not want to think about Soobin like that, but what you both saw gave him everything he needed to know.

"I'm taking you home." He declared. "Wait for me at the entrance, I'll just grab our things." He held your hand as you walked with him by the entrance. "Give me a minute, don't go anywhere." Taehyun took you home that night, giving you the comfort you needed the most. "I'll crash at your place." He uttered as he engulfed you once again with the warmest embrace he loves to give.

Soobin stared at the two empty seats beside his when he got back inside. "Where are they?" he asked Chae, referring to the two people who were sitting beside him. "They've gone home, I think." the girl answered.

The session ended after a few moments, the two girls carrying Kai on their shoulders. "We're taking this baby with us" the two girls referred to the tipsy and all-smiling junior.

Classes can be skipped after finals. Making you the most grateful person to the heavens above as you chose not to go to school. Taehyun stayed beside you, always checking on you, going home sometimes only to go back again to your place because he couldn't stay put at all. Knowing how you bawled out your eyes that night last week until you fell asleep.

As you are in the comfort of your own house, you can't help but pity your friend who's currently cooking for you. "Am I giving you too much headache? I feel like a burden to you," you whispered as you lay your chin on the kitchen island, arms splayed out, as you stared at him. He walked closer to you and ruffled your hair. "You never did and you are not. If anything, I'm more than glad to do this for you," Taehyun explained.

One week. Taehyun has been taking care of you for a week now. Today was supposed to be you and Soobin's 3rd anniversary, but here you are with Taehyun, out in the streets, drinking your hearts out on some street carts. He's silent, unlike you who kept on blabbering and kept on drinking. He's taking little to no shots, he can't afford to get wasted when he still has the responsibility to take you home and take care of you.

"Y/n, that's enough now, you've drunk enough," he said as he stopped your hand from taking another shot. You clicked your tongue and glared at him, "Don't tell me to stop when you don't know what I'm feeling." No, Taehyun did. Taehyun knows. He knows more than anyone else. How can he not? "We're going home." Taehyun paid your drinks without paying attention to your whines and complaints.

You crashed at his house since it was a bit closer than yours. Plus he is already tired and tipsy, it's not a joke to carry around a wasted woman out from the street, no? However, you haven't stopped complaining, not even a little bit, even when your words are already slurred. He slumped you on the couch, arms sore for keeping you in balance. "I'll grab some towels and fresh clothes to clean you up."

You closed your eyes, feeling the sleepiness take over you. You jolted awake when you felt a cold towel touching your face and neck. "S-soob, what a-are you d-doing here?" You forced yourself to sit up, your eyes looming to burst into tears. "Hey--" you grabbed his face and kissed him. "I m-missed you, I missed you s-so much," you sobbed. You held his face once again, pressing the kiss you longed for.

"We.. we shouldn't..." he whispered, as he held your face and pinned you on the couch. Maybe it was revenge for what Soobin did, or maybe it was the liquor, but Taehyun did not care at all, he wanted to give in. He's slowly giving in.

"Hng-" Your small whines and whimpers drive him up the wall. The kiss gets deeper, hungrier, sloppier. Taehyun's mind is nowhere in the room anymore. He's going nuts, he can no longer control himself. With the pent-up frustration of watching you being tormented, he cannot wrap his head around this matter anymore. The longing feeling he wanted to show, the tender touch he wants to make you feel. He pulled away for a bit, causing you to pull him towards your neck. Who was he to decline, even if you mistook him for someone, it wouldn't hurt, right? He planted delicate kisses on your neck down to your collarbone. You moaned at his action. He snapped back to reality as he pulled away again, panting, lips swollen from the occasional biting. You looked up at his big and trembling figure.

"Y-you should sleep... Please..." he stutters as he covers your eyes with his hand planting a soft kiss on your tender lips one last time. "Good night," he whispered once more.

You drifted to sleep, nothing registering in your mind. He quickly stands up to his feet and scurries away to the bathroom, flushing his face with cold water. He sets down both of his palms on the sink, staring at his blown eyes. Hands coming up, caressing his lips. "Fuck you," he whispered. "Fuck you Taehyun!" He screamed at his reflection as he punched the mirror. "You've gone overboard, that's not something you should do. Fuck you, you idiot..." he scolded himself, teardrops escaping from his eyes.

The next morning, you woke up from the smell of the toast and the sound of a sizzling pan. You grunted as you tried to walk to the kitchen, still in a groggy state. "Taehyun?" you roamed your eyes around the house once, no Soobin to be seen in the room, nor his presence to be felt. You were about to ask Taehyun but we're distracted by the doorbell.

Three people came crashing into Taehyun's house, Kai, Beomgyu and Yeonjun. All of them carrying plastic bags with, what you think, is full of chips and different snacks. "Movie day!" Kai screamed who got a neck slice from the oldest. "You're quite noisy in the morning," he grunted, Kai then faked cries, emitting a laugh from all of you.

"I called them over," Taehyun announced as he placed the plates on the table. "But just the three of them came, the others are busy I guess," he added. "What happened to your hand?" You asked as you pulled a chair, the other three sitting on the other side of the table. Taehyun sat beside you, "I knocked a cup earlier," he simply replied.

The day rolled over like nothing with the five of you busying yourselves with watching movies, bickering with each other, eating and of course playing.

The following week, you were all called to the school campus for the preparation of the graduating students. You need to fix and clean up the whole campus so your attendance is a must.

You groaned while dragging two trash bags full of garbage. You sighed as you came to a stop, stomping at why no one was helping you with this. You were just a corner away from the garbage school pit when you hear voices from the other side. You peeked from the bushes. You saw how Soobin shoved Yunhee's shoulder.

"Hey! You shouldn't be treating your girlfriend like that!" you shouted, brows furrowed. You don't like Yunhee and her guts but this is not something Soobin should do to a girl especially if he's dating her.

"This is what I'm talking about!" Soobin raised his voice over Yunhee as you walked over between them. "What are you saying? Are you nuts?! How can you stomach the fact that you are hurting your girlfriend right now?! Physically, at that!" you retorted.

"Move, y/n," he said with a firm voice.

"I'm not moving! Unless you stop shoving her! You are hurting your girlfriend, you dumbass!"

"Shut up! She's not my girlfriend!" It was the first time. The first time Soobin raised his voice over you. "Now move."

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Did you not hear me well? I said she's not my girlfriend."

You turn to Yunhee, she looks down on her feet, fidgeting with his fingers.

"She was just spreading baseless rumors. Rumors that made you break up with me, isn't that it? That you didn't even let me explain myself to you. You just left me. You left me without hearing my side, y/n," his pouring anger is making him frustrated, huffing, chest thumping loudly.

You looked at Yunhee once more and she slowly backed down, running away.

"Baseless rumors you say?" you scoffed. He looked at you with a confused look. "Baseless, I see..." You pushed your hair back, you were also about to burst. "Baseless when I saw you screwing her that night after the exam in the dark alley."

His mouth hung open, "What are you saying?" he couldn't believe what he just heard. "I was talking to my mother that night when I got out of the restaurant. And I am sure, I wasn't even at the alley."

"W-what?"

"What do you mean what? How am I supposed to do something like that when you occupy my mind all the damn time!"

"H-how... How is that possible? I literally saw your tall figure, and I was sure about Yunhee's hair length." You mumbled.

"Ah, right!" As if there was a light bulb that sparked above his head, "It was Kai."

"Kai?"

"Yes, Kai."

You were equally confused by what he said, what does he mean Kai?

"What you saw was Kai, not me." He started. "Can't you remember? That night, we were both wearing the campus jacket. People often mistook the both of us for each other, especially with our height."

"Y-you mean, it wasn't really y-you?"

"I fucking swear y/n, it wasn't me!"

You slumped your shoulders as you leaned on the wall, dumbfounded by the newfound information. Truthfully, all you just saw were mere silhouettes, not their face. How did you even come up with the idea that it was Soobin?

"Kai told me himself. He and Yunhee's younger sister was a thing," he said as he ran his hand on his face. "Yunhee was my girlfriend. Knowing about Kai and her younger sister, she came up with the idea of spreading rumors saying we're back together." He explained one again.

"S-soob, I didn't know."

"Because you did not let me explain my s-side," his voice cracked. "You just cut me off, and blocked me." His voice is low and tears are about to fall from his eyes.

"So many times, I wanted to approach you," you saw the hurt inside his eyes. "But I always see you with the guys, especially Taehyun. Knowing the two of you grew up together, I know you told him about us." he wipes his tears, you can't bring yourself to wipe them.

"I was so scared... Scared that what if he took you from me? What if we won't be back together?" You felt the pang in your chest and the twist in your stomach. "That's why I distanced myself. From our friends, from Taehyun... From you, y/n," his tears are freely flowing from his cheeks. You quickly wiped them away as you cupped his face staring at his eyes with guilt.

"I even saw you..." he paused, choking on words, "with Taehyun. At the ice cream shop down our street. The time when I tried to talk to Yunhee about this issue." He closed his eyes as he felt the pain in his heavy heart. "I know Taehyun saw me, our gaze met."

"Soobin.." you pulled him in for a hug, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"I was s-so scared. I can't talk to you because I w-was so scared. I'm not s-supposed to ignore you. B-but I can't bring m-myself to t-talk to you." He explained between sobs and hiccups. Guilt ate at you that very moment, how can you just ignore him and believe all the rumors without talking to him and hearing him?

You cupped his face am you pulled him in for an apologetic kiss. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for not letting you explain. For shutting you out." He pressed his forehead to yours as he mumbled a soft sorry. "Sorry, for being a coward. Sorry for not cleaning this mess up as early as possible." He hugged you tighter.

That afternoon, your group of friends felt the easy atmosphere while having the snack at the cafeteria. They don't know what's up this time but everything just feels light and good. No one dared to talk about the atmosphere but everyone was relieved to their core.

"We'll go first, senior's duty. See you later again." Yeonjun announced.

"We'll go with you." The two girls chimed.

"I'll get going, still have something to do." Soobin excused himself as well. "Hyung wait up, I'll tag along!" The youngest trotted away, leaving the three of you in the cafeteria.

"What should we do now?" You asked the two as you tapped your fingers on the table. "I want to sleep, let's go to the infirmary." You and Taehyun followed Beomgyu to the school infirmary.

Taehyun sat at the window, hands inside his pocket. "What's gotten into you?" You asked him. He glanced at Beomgyu fast asleep before he looked down at his shoes. "Have you two made up? I mean, Soobin." He looked up at you, voice tinged with disappointment that an oblivious heart wouldn't notice. You nodded. "Everything was a simple miscommunication." You replied to him as you fidget with your fingers. "Oh, I see." "Yunhee was the one responsible for spreading the rumors, and that night... It wasn't Soobin. It was Kai." He almost scoffed at what you've said.

"Can you remember anything that happened after that night? He asked, hoping for a specific answer. " Nothing. Just you, taking care of me and being my shoulder to cry on." He faked a smile, "I'll just stay at the rooftop for a while."

"Is there something wrong?" You asked him, standing up from the bed you are seated on.

"None. Just want to clear my mind, I'm tired." He said as he walked out of the room.

Down the hallway, he saw Soobin carrying some boxes along with his classmates. He purposely bumped into his careful. "You should be careful. Hyung." He talked without looking back at Soobin, emphasizing every word. The latter merely confused with questions like 'What's his problem' thrown to him by his classmates.

Taehyun's words have a deeper meaning supposedly. He doesn't know how to act right. He's not like this. He used to be a calm and collected guy. He slumped down with his back on the rooftop door, whispering curses as tears flowed down his cheeks once again.

In the following days, you didn't see Taehyun anywhere. He's not home either whenever you went to visit him, or so you thought. He got distant from you. However, you did not pay it much mind. You think, maybe he was just busy.

You opened your door at the knock, welcoming Soobin inside. "You ready?" His smile is back once again, the bunny-like smile you loved seeing. His smile shined brighter than the sun outside. You intertwined your hands with him. You two were supposed to be on your first date, as a couple that got back together.

Soobin is always careful when planning for dates. Making sure to do and follow things according to plan. He makes sure that everything is aligned with what should be done at that certain time. From playing in the arcade to buying groceries, eating lunch, watching movies, going shopping and watching the sunset by the bay. He knows you love these types of dates. In order to earn back your trust, he made sure everything was alright.

"I enjoyed today. Thank you Soobin." You said as you opened the front door.

"I'm glad you did because I did too. Especially when you almost fell skating." He chuckled.

"Hey, that's not funny!" You frowned, plopping the grocery and shopping bags on your coffee table.

"Come here." Soobin motioned you to sit beside him after piling up the bags he was carrying along with yours.

"I'm really sorry, Soobin, I should've at least listened to you. It was my fault." He pulled you into a hug, gently caressing the back of your head with his huge hand. "Don't sweat it anymore, y/n. Besides, we're good now, aren't we?" He cupped your face. "I just hope miscommunication never happens again." He added. "Promise?" You showed your pinky finger, "Promise," he answered with a smile as he intertwined it with his.

He held your face once again as he pressed the softest kiss. Things escalated quickly, you can't deny that. Because your dress that you carefully picked this morning, was being taken off of you. The searing kiss you're sharing is making the both of you go nuts.

He pulled you on his lap, sliding the straps of your dress down your smooth shoulder.

"Fuck, love," the pet name he used even before rolled off his tongue casually, but hearing it again just now gives you goosebumps. He controls your waist as he lets you grind above him while you are straddling him. "Please, y/n keep going," he looks at you with pleading eyes.

You halt, earning a groan from him, bulge twitching beneath you. "Let's go to my room," eyes filled with love and longing. He carried you to your room, placing you down on the edge of the bed as he touched your lower lip. You looked up at his tall figure towering over you. You reached out your arms above you to his chest, unbuttoning his dress shirt, uncovering the hidden defined abs of your boyfriend. You slowly unbuckled his belt, pants pooling down to his feet. His mind flew somewhere, head reeling.

"W-what are you trying to do?" you chuckled at his obvious question. "Making amends," you shrugged.

He has nothing to hold on to aside from your shoulder as you palm him in his boxers. The soft gasps and groans he tried to muffle, came out hotter than you thought. You hooked your finger on the waistband of his boxers, his breathing hitched at the hot puffs to his exposed length that came from your mouth. He brushed your lips with his thumb once more, biting his own lip.

You give him a few kitten licks as you look up, practically making him hold his breath in with the sight in front of him. Your tiny hand wrapped around his hot and girthy cock, stroking him and prodding your tongue on his slit. Soobin hissed through his teeth as he closed his eyes at the sensation. This is not a normal way of apologizing but he is loving this.

You swirled your tongue on the head of his shaft resulting in him thrusting his hips forward. He muttered half-assed sorry with his mind flying around. You pressed your thumb on his tip, emitting a guttural moan from Soobin. It takes everything for him to keep himself steady.

"Y/n, love, please, n-no teasing," his voice hinted with urgency, "I-i thought you were s-supposed to m-make amends, n-not to t-torture me," he added.

"Okay then, whatever you say," you chimed.

"As much as I l-love the w-way you ap..apologize, I can't s-s-fuck!" you caught him off guard when you hollowed your cheek to suck his cock, the tip kissing your throat.

He was trembling, and his legs felt like jelly at the sensation, he wanted to pull back but his body was betraying him with how he slowly thrusts in your mouth. Your moans caused shivers to go down his spine and his needy eyes grew stronger.

"Y/n... Y/n.. fuck.. ohh," he was going out of his mind, the knot in his stomach about to burst as you taste the sweet and salty taste of his pre-cum. You once again looked up at him as he gently held your face, thrusting a bit stronger chasing his high. You gripped his legs to ground yourself.

"Mmnn! Fuck!" white spurts of cum painting your hot mouth and tongue, his legs and hips spasming. You showed him your cum-filled tongue before you swallowed it, licking the sides of your lips. "Pretty.. fucking hot," he commented as he swipes his fingers on your lips, checking if you were hurt.

He was about to go down on you when you stopped him, "You don't want me to?" he asked, confusion written on his face. "Do it next time. I-i want you inside me n-now," you shyly whispered, scooting over to the spacious bed. You felt the bed dip when Soobin climbed up as he removed his unbuttoned shirt. He kissed your shoulder, swiftly unzipping your dress with so much ease, throwing it away. "Condoms?" he pulled away, "Drawer, to the left," you replied.

He clumsily pulled the drawers, knocking other bottles as he grabbed the condoms out. "Let me do it," he smiled at your initiative, chuckling at how you fumbled to open the packaging. You wrapped it around his shaft in a slow sensual manner, making him curse from his post-nut sensitivity.

He lays you down carefully, littering your chest with a sloppy kiss, leaving you with splotchy red marks all over your neck and shoulder. "Tell me if it's too much," he strokes your hair, leaving a sweet tender kiss on your forehead, to which you simply nod.

"Should I tease you too?" he smirked at the thought forming in his mind, you pouted and whined a needy no to his face. But he did otherwise, gently tapping his heavy cock on your wet cunt, collecting your slick that's been dripping for a while now.

He started thrusting with only the tip of his cock while his face has a smirk plastered on his plump lips. "It won't fit," he lied. "P-please Soobin, I need y-you," your voice coming out with so much need. "Yeah? Is that right?" he kept on teasing you as you tried to lift your hips and fuck yourself on him. "How am I supposed to handle your oh-so-needy attitude," he chuckled, as you are slowly turning red from embarrassment. But you know he'll give in in no time, "S-soob please, I'm a-aching d-down there," you tried to reach for your clit to give it some friction only for your hands to be pinned by Soobin above your head. "Not so fast, darling, I thought you wanted to apologize?" His eyes speak volumes of lust, though. His eyes tell you he wanted to ruin you at this very moment, to fuck your brains out. "I'm really s--sorry Soobin, l-love, please let me h-hold you," he lets go of your hands to hide on your neck as he slowly entered your wet cunt.

You yelped at the sensation, he was big enough to give you a good stretch, and you clawed his back at how good you felt. You are sure that your scratch marks would last for days, he knows it too when he winced at the pain, but he loves the thought of it. Neither of you cared about it, all you wanted to last is the pleasure you are both feeling.

He stilled inside you, "Think you can do it? Can I move now?" He kissed your teary eyes. "I-i can take y-you," his ears rang at your words, and you felt his cock twitch inside you. "A-are you turned on by that, Soobin?" you wanted to make sure. "Mmm, you're so little compared to me, yet you're saying such a thing," he squeaked out, "What a brave little girl."

He started by thrusting slowly, elbows propped on both sides, hands continuously caressing your cheek as he occasionally pressed lingering kisses on your face.

"Fucking tight," he grinned, "stop c-clenching, I won't last long w-with that," his hips stuttered a few times.

"I-i can't, you f-feel so g-good, Soob, s-so... So b-big," you grab one of his arms to make him feel the bulge on your stomach. "Here. Ahh.. you are reaching h-here, ohh fuck, feels... Agh..." he smiled at how you can't form coherent words, his cock twitching inside, thrusting harder with a goal in his mind, to poke a bigger bulge on your stomach.

You clenched again, for the second time around, about to cream his cock. "I-i'm close," he stopped thrusting and rubbed slow circular motion on your clit, you thrashed around, complaining and wailing. "S-soobin, no, love, please. Ngh! Ahh! I want to c-cum!" A tear dropped from your eyes as Soobin cooed at you, "You wanted it so much, sweetie?" he grinned and you nodded eagerly. He pulled out of you all the way, and you cried at the empty feeling, "Fuck yourself on me then," he ordered as he lays down and let you climb up above him.

You weren't happy at how he was edging you, so you pulled his condoms out, sinking yourself on his cock in one go, Soobin was stunned as he cursed loudly along with your soured face from the stretch, "B-baby, this is w-wrong," he was so nervous at what can happen. "I'll let you p-pull out," you simply replied as he nodded back at you absentmindedly, because how is he supposed to pull out when you are on top of him?

You started fucking yourself on him, as you placed your hands on his hard chest. "Shit, I can feel you so r-raw," he cursed multiple times at the dragging feeling.

The familiar knot in your stomach is about to snap when he angled you hitting the best spot. Soobin saw how your expression was gone from soft to a fucked out one. You did not say anything, afraid that he might edge you again, so you just continued moving until your legs trembled. White ring pooling on the base of his cock as you creamed his shaft. "F-fuck Soob... Ahh." The soft moans seemed like they were coming straight out of porn as he helped you ride your high. And that's when you decided to overstimulate yourself to make him cum again.

"Angel, d-don't.. shit, w-what are you d-doing!" He can no longer grip your waist, his hands felt weak nearing his high. His mouth hung open, head buried back on the pillow with his hand clasped on his mouth.

You felt his hips stutter, along with the spasming of his legs as he gripped at the bed sheet, knuckles white.

You crashed down on his chest and you let him thrust more into you slowly as he hugged you tight. "A-apology.. apology accepted." He muttered lowly. You planted a visible love bite on his neck, emitting a groan from his hoarse voice. "Y/n.. no more..." He's straight out tired, whining, yet loving the feeling of how your tongue dances on his neck. "No more? But you're still thrusting." You popped the bubble above his head, chuckling at how he bit his lip with red cheeks.

He slowly pulled out and you both winced and hissed at the sensation, your mixed cum flowing out of your cunt. Too tired to clean yourself up, Soobin just grabbed his boxers and pants to put them back on and covered you with his dress shirt, you didn't even know when you fell asleep.

You woke up with an arm wrapped around your waist, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, and the quiet puffs of breath. You squirmed slowly to get off the bed without waking Soobin up as you headed straight to his bathroom, washing your face and cleaning yourself. You rummaged through his cabinet, finding some proper clothes to wear. You pulled on his black t-shirt and put it on without anything beneath, going back to the bed to be engulfed in a warm embrace.

You stared at his peaceful sleeping face as you thought to yourself, "Miscommunication isn't a good thing, we need to work on this, or else we might end up separating completely." You kiss his cheek as you get back to sleep again.

@binniesbooks 2024

[witerh]

need each other || boyfriend re4r!leon

warning: nsfw, fluff, mention of leon's ptsd, dom/soft leon! phone handjob, on distance, dirty talk, animal names, caresses, orgasm, consolation, comfort.

rating: mature

plot: your boyfriend's long absence from home makes you miss him not only mentally but also physically.

all rights reserved!| please don't copy my work without permission!| 18+ content!| minors DON'T interreact!|

Long-distance relationships, no matter what temporarily or forever, are always an unbearable longing and need. Thoughts are filled only with when he will return and worry about one rustle at home because he can will return at any moment. A couple of days, weeks and months have already been passing for too long, hours and minutes are like honey — they are slowly tormenting you with its slowness. Joy knows no bounds when you hear a notification on your phone, you hope that it’s your boyfriend, but it turns out it’s just a notification about the weather forecast. At night, hiding a pillow between your legs is simply unbearable because the desire to feel real touches is much stronger. Memories of his hands on your body, wanting to console you and calm you down from bitter tears that you don’t deserve make you sad while he consoled himself with a glass of whiskey at the bar. The atmosphere in the house just suffocates you like never before. You are used to coming home from work and smelling the cooked dinner, comforting yourself in the arms of the blond talking about your day. But now it’s deathly silence, broken by the jingle of your keys in the lock.

A stream of cool air blows into your bedroom through the slightly open window while you lie in bed and chat with Leon. The corners of your lips turn up as you can you hear his voice as if it were some kind of treasure. His words through the phone speaker feel like they are say from the heart. Admitting how much he misses you and will be back soon with a gift in the form of a new dress that you saw on Instagram makes your heart beat faster than before. You tell how things are going on with you at work and, in general, the upcoming news in your life. You haven’t seen him for a long time, you haven’t felt his comfort and the warmth for a long time which now replaces blanket. Fleeting conversations with him on the phone warm you more than any fireplace in a harsh winter that does not want to be consoled. This mission is too long for both of you and your cunt is already getting wet from his message: “How is my girl coping there alone at home, hmm?" It torments you, but at the same time it gives you pleasure like never before. Sweet torture that you are ready to endure on your own skin with defeat and hand in panties.

While talking about something new at your work, you didn’t even not right away notice how Leon was half naked and with rosy cheeks. He often worked out in the gym, because you always need to keep in shape, just as you always need to keep the bookshelves in order from dust in your house. He carefully tried and trained his muscles, so that veins almost burst under his slightly tanned skin. I can’t say that you didn’t admire his muscular body, his chest, his abs, but still it was too much. It was too beautiful a sight for your head to see his strong hands, that a pool had already formed in your mouth from your saliva. You didn’t even ask your boyfriend whether he was home from practice or not, because you still knew the answer: “Yes, I was, baby, otherwise it wouldn’t be me.”

— You think so, what if were you at home and touched me right now? Explain yourself for me. — you reproached into the speaker feeling a rather familiar knot inside your lower abdomen. The sound of your voice so alluring made him root for you even more. Leon could imagine the playful smirk on your lips as you teased him. His strong hand ran over his aching cock, which needed you more and more. Kennedy's imagination is simply clouded by excitement and he cannot think right now.

— I would lie between your thighs... and eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner... I'll make you scream my name until you forget yours... — he sighed softly lost in my imagination. About how you squeeze his skull with your plush hips, how you will cry for release while his tongue carefully works over your body, how your hands grab onto his strands of hair as if it were a sheet that was stained with your juices and his saliva. It makes his skin crawl. Leon threw his heavy head back onto the pillow, which eventually flopped from the big fantasies of your entertainment after his mission.

He will definitely make your pussy happy.

His blond hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat because it's so hot in the hotel room! With every statement and request from Leon, you felt that there was already a lake of your fluids under your ass. There is no point in resisting the temptation, and your hand is already under the lace fabric and circling over your clitoris, caressing you while you imagine that these are his fingers.

— Oh, Leon, — you mutter for him and only him — I want you... — your words were a request and a plea with heavy breathing. Your words and the sounds of your cunt squelching against your finger made the fire inside him flare up. His hand lowered his sweatpants freeing his already hard cock from its confines. Leon's movements were desperate when he heard this symphony of your sighs and sounds.

— What a good girl, — he answered, frowning from the tension in this situation. With every stroke he imagined that you were doing this to him which brought him to an uncontrollable state. Your shared muffled chorus of arousal and moans was heard only by both of you and no one else. — What do you want, baby, now?.. I will do everything I can in my power, —

Your fingers began to tremble due to the way you were squeezing them with your walls. His voice and words were stuck in your head for a couple of seconds while you thought about them while your boyfriend continued to console himself and you heard it perfectly. — Fuck me, Leon... Рlease... I need you so much.. right now, — your thighs began to tremble involuntarily — a sign that your fingers were doing their job well.

— I'm close.. very.. Oh God.. — Kennedy's slight muttering that you couldn't quite understand. Leon was quiet that there were almost no moans for you, but for him your moans were very often. His hand increased the pace of movement, smearing precum from the red tip with his thumb. You both lost your breath and the approach only increased without stopping for mercy. The tension in the lower abdomen tormented him greatly, as did you, constantly reminding him of the long-awaited release. With each passing moment, the intensity of your pleasure grew until it became almost unbearable. It's too much.

— Cum for me, baby, be a good girl for me... — he coos and his voice was hoarse with his desire and need for you. You succumbed to temptation with a hoarse cry, feeling like a knot was untying in the lower abdomen and your pussy ached and ached while your hips stood up slightly in trembling. You are lost and your mouth is dry and there is not enough saliva while your body is all wet from sweat and your own fluids, not to mention the sheet under you and now dirty pajamas. You could only hear his moans and low growls of his release with your encouragement. Thick strings of sperm released into his palm also staining his clothes and his skin.

You both walked away and breathed heavily without saying anything. — You liked it baby, huh? — his murmur was heard with the slight rustling of a napkin as he removed dirt from himself. Kennedy wanted to hear your approval or to hear what he did wrong in this unusual meeting on the phone. — This is not just “good”, it is ideal and only ideal, — you quietly whispered back.

[austinswife]

ON THE EDGE OF US - Austin Butler

REQUESTED BY ANON

SYNOPSIS — Y/N has always been in an on-again, off-again relationship with Austin Butler. What started as a whirlwind romance between two passionate souls turned into a rocky journey filled with highs and lows, breaks and reunions. When an unexpected pregnancy binds them together, Y/N hopes their baby will bring stability. But Austin, never the “father” type, struggles with his role, frequently leaving and coming back, caught between his love for Y/N and their child and his fear of being inadequate as a father. As Y/N grapples with the pain of his absence, she faces the hard truth: Can love survive when it’s constantly walking the edge of falling apart?

WARNING(S) — Angst, emotional turmoil, mentions of leaving/abandonment, frustration with parenthood, arguments, swearing, stress and anxiety related to relationships and parenting, sensitive themes (broken family dynamics)

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The house was quiet—too quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair as you slowly moved back and forth, trying to soothe Lily. Her soft whimpers had been your constant soundtrack for the past hour, and you were exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Completely. You hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in what felt like weeks, maybe even months.

The baby’s tiny fists curled against your chest as you swayed, her small face scrunched up with discomfort. You felt a lump rising in your throat, not for the first time tonight. The loneliness, the weight of it all, felt unbearable.

You glanced at the clock on the wall—2:08 a.m. The late hour only served as a reminder that once again, Austin wasn’t here.

With a soft sigh, you looked down at Lily, kissing her head gently. “It’s just us again, huh?” you whispered. The weight of that truth hung heavily in the room, even as her tiny breathing finally began to slow. You couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could do this alone.

The sound of the front door opening was so faint you almost missed it. The soft creak of the hinges felt like it echoed through the silence. Your heart clenched, emotions swirling—relief, anger, confusion. Austin was home. But was he really?

He stepped into the dimly lit living room, his body a shadow against the glow of the streetlights outside. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. You could smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, though it wasn’t overwhelming.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you and Lily. He looked tired. No, not just tired—worn. His eyes were darker than usual, like they held the weight of every fight, every argument, every night he had walked out the door and left you alone with her.

“Austin,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, but he didn’t move.

Instead, he just stood there, his eyes flicking to the floor as he shifted on his feet, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. You could feel the familiar ache in your chest, the same ache you felt every time he left. Every time he came back.

“Where have you been?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it, more of an accusation than you intended, but the hurt laced through your voice was impossible to hide. It wasn’t just about tonight. It was about every time. Every time he chose to walk away.

Austin rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into every line of his body. “I just needed some air,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. It was always the same excuse. Always some reason to get away, to escape the responsibility that weighed down on both of you.

“Air,” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping despite the knot tightening in your throat. “You always need air. But I don’t get that luxury, do I? I don’t get to just walk out when things get hard.”

He shifted uncomfortably, taking a step closer but still keeping his distance. His eyes flicked to Lily, who was finally quiet in your arms, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. He swallowed hard, the sight of her seeming to stir something in him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to come any closer.

“I’m trying, Y/N,” he said quietly, but there was a frustration in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

“Are you?” The question hung in the air between you, raw and vulnerable. “Because it feels like every time things get tough, you’re gone. I’m here—every day, every night. I’m the one who gets up with her. I’m the one who stays when she’s crying for hours on end. But you? You’re never here when I need you.”

Austin’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t feel trapped too? You think I don’t feel like I’m suffocating sometimes?”

Your heart twisted painfully at his words, but you held your ground. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Austin. That’s what being parents is about. That’s what being a family is about. You don’t get to just walk out because it’s hard.”

“I’m not built for this,” he shot back, his voice rising with the frustration he had been holding in for so long. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. You felt tears burning at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not now.

Lily stirred in your arms at the sound of his raised voice, her little face scrunching up as if sensing the tension between you. You instinctively held her tighter, trying to shield her from the chaos unfolding.

“You didn’t ask for this?” you repeated, your voice shaking. “You didn’t ask for this?” You shook your head, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Neither did I, Austin! But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. We made this choice—together.”

Austin’s eyes softened for a brief moment, the guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped. But then, just as quickly, the frustration returned. “I never wanted to be a father, Y/N. You know that. I don’t know how to do this.”

“You think I do?” you countered, your voice breaking as the tears you had been holding back finally began to fall. “I’m figuring it out just like you are. But the difference is, I’m here. I’m staying. I’m trying.”

He ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of you like a caged animal, trapped by the weight of everything he was feeling but unable to find a way out. “I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be.”

“Then figure it out!” you cried, your voice raw with emotion. “Because I can’t do this alone anymore. I’m tired, Austin. I’m so tired of fighting for this—for us—when you’re not even sure if you want it.”

Austin stopped pacing, his eyes locking with yours for the first time that night. For a moment, it felt like everything had stilled, the world falling away until it was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure you could come back from.

“I do want it,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “I love you, Y/N. I love her.” He glanced at Lily, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and something else—something you hadn’t seen in a long time. “But I’m scared.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the vulnerability in him. The cracks in his armor.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you looked at him. “I’m scared too,” you whispered, wiping at your tears with your free hand. “But we have to face this—together. We can’t keep doing this push-and-pull, Austin. It’s breaking us.”

He took a step closer, and this time, he reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“We can’t fix it if you keep leaving,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I need you to stay.”

Austin looked down at Lily, his hand lingering on her tiny head as she slept peacefully in your arms. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed her soft hair, and for the first time, you saw the conflict in his eyes. The war he was fighting between wanting to be there for his family and not knowing how to handle the weight of it all.

“I’ll try,” he whispered, though his voice lacked the conviction you so desperately needed to hear. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, but I’ll try.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you were going to get from him tonight. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lily’s forehead before pulling away and walking toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your heart tightening in your chest.

“I just need some air,” he muttered, his hand already on the doorknob. But this time, when he looked back at you, there was a flicker of something different in his eyes—something that gave you hope.